I used to derive a lot of pleasure from flying. But now, after the rush of glee has waned from the first several flights, all that's left is the horror...especially during the rocky parts of the flight.
I used to think that the chance of a crash is minimal. But then I realized that, by virtue of my flying more and more, the chance increases. Now I don't like it as much. Hence the more I fly, the more of a likelihood the situation described in the comic would transpire. No amount of repetition is ever enough to grant anyone immunity from the fear a turbulence induces. Whether it's the first or the 100th time, any given turbulence is gut-wrenching, and in the back of your mind you'll always be thinking, "Oh man, this could be it."
So this week I'm flying to Florida to celebrate Thanksgiving.
Wish me a happy, death-free flight.