motion sickness is not something i am often plagued with. however, this past week i experienced a new and exciting way to bring me closer to my own bile; frost heaves. these phenomena are the conjoined twins of the pot hole. for the unschooled (or non new englanders), water freezes and expands under the road's surface, creating a tarmac "pimple". the entire northeast's thoroughfares are peppered with potholes and frost heaves, requiring additional padding in your trousers or the seats of your subaru (the official 'state car' of maine and new hampshire) to decrease jarring to any errant haemorrhoids.
my rectal massage continued during the beechcraft 1900D flight from manchester to laguardia. in other words, i found myself climbing onto and into, an elongated toilet tube with wings and propellors. there were no overhead bins, no colgate toothpaste smiling hosties "welcoming [me] aboard", no toilets, and no bulletproof, reinforced steel door separating terroristic passengers from the cockpit. the cabin lighting had less wattage than a portable booklight, and i tripped over the giant hump in the centre of the aisle (one seat along each sidewall), which was actually the aircraft's undercarriage. the plane was equipped with tray tables, fan vents, and floatation devices in our "seat bottoms". however i couldn't identify where the oxygen masks were supposed to drop from, for my pre-flight "i am going to die in this thing, but at least i'm already packaged and ready to go in my prefab coffin" hyperventilation.
the plane (and subsequently my stomach, and consequently my anxiety) shifted at every bump, air pocket, and pigeon farting south of the equator. fortunately i had already called a (3 day) moratorium on nail biting and cuticle picking, so there was plenty for me to "harvest" during the 50 minute flight.
landing was an awesome experience, not simply because i was still alive, the flight was over, and my breakfast had remained in place. it's not too often i get to see the approach and taxi through the big window in front, however the bullet proof doors are probably a better deterrant to my jumping into the first officer's lap and whimpering like an infant.