We arrive early.

It's a small private airport terminal.

We wait in the lobby, I have butterflies in my stomach.

I also don't like flying very much. Everyone knows exactly what we're

going to be doing. Debra is giving me light kisses to get my

engine started. There's a guy behind the counter,

giving me a look like,

"Save it for the plane!"

Waiting for the pilot

is like waiting at the dentist's office,

only much nicer somehow. In my nervousness,

I find myself using the bathroom every five minutes.

What if I give a bad performance? It's one thing at home, but another

if you've spent $275 and you're 10,000 feet above your own city.

What if I get up there and she's not in the mood? Or what

if she gets a headache or something? Then I might

have to fly solo.