My co-worker from PUSH, Karen has never flown before, and there's a reason for that.

 She doesn't want to.

 So this cold and dreary May past when we have to make a business trip to North Carolina, and I want to fly, she isn't too happy. In fact I can't even get her to start planning the trip.

 "Don't you think we should be making some arrangements for the trip, Karen?" I say to her one rainy day.

 Her lips turn down, her eyes scrunch shut, and she shakes her head.

 "I don't want to think about it - just beam me there, Scotty."

 Well after much deliberation, and soul searching, she finally gets herself on a plane with me.

Without drugs.

The trip to Raleigh-Durham isn't too eventful. A little bumpy. Karen doesn't care much for all the little funny sensations you get when the plane climbs, or drops, or turns. But she figures out from watching every one else that a dip of a wing does not mean a plane crash is imminent.

 I figure out the margaritas are kicking in.

 All in all the trip out is fine. When we get off the plane, the weather in North Carolina is so sunny and glorious, we both fall to the ground and worship the sun god! Figuratively speaking of course. For three heavenly days, Karen doesn't have to think about getting back on an airplane as we buzz around Durham in our little rental car. Thursday, the night before we are to return to Lafayette, anxiety starts to set in.

 Just so happens that Friday is the beginning of Memorial Day Weekend. What's so bad about that, you may wonder, but you have to remember, we are flying to Indianapolis. When we get to Pittsburgh, turns out our connection is overbooked by lots of people from Buffalo who have won free tickets to the Indianapolis 500 car race.

OK, whose brilliant idea was it to schedule this trip for this particular week?

As we sit around the boarding area, I look over at Karen. She looks tense.

I feel tense.

"Karen, don't you think that silver-headed, distinguished-looking guy by the counter is cute?"

She appears to take the bait. "I kind of like that rugged-looking guy standing over there in jeans."

 We spend the next twenty minutes researching every foxy guy in the crowd, comparing notes. Young or old, no one is exempt from our scrutiny.

 Finally, about the time we're supposed to be arriving in Indy, we are allowed to board, but there are no two seats together. I take a seat by a window next to a blond lady who is dressed for a picnic at the beach. Next to her sits a silver-haired, dark-eyed gentleman. Karen takes an aisle seat two rows up next to a young couple. I can tell she's not happy at the prospect of sitting by herself.

 This flight is a little bumpier. Then the pilot gets on the loud speaker and says there's bad weather over Indianapolis and that he's going to try to fly above it. He tries to go in from different directions, but the storm is too rough. So we circle Indianapolis and Evansville for about an hour waiting it out. Everyone is fairly quiet as the plane bounces around the sky. Kind of feels like we're sitting in a tumbler of Lemon Shake-up. I keep my eyes on the back of Karen's head. It doesn't move.

Suddenly one jolt throws me against the window. Shaking my head in disbelief, I yell out, "Hang in there, Karen!"

 Twice.

 She looks around at me.

Everyone looks around at me.

I try to explain, "Hey, she's my co-worker and this is her first plane trip."

 I wonder if they think we're gay or something.

Then all of a sudden people start talking to each other. Karen strikes up a conversation with the couple sitting next to her. I discover that the blond lady sitting next to me is Chilean, and actually went to Dunalaster, the same school I attended thirty-three years ago when I was a girl. While the plane esta bailando la Queca, we reminisce about the teachers and doing military drills at the Country Club in Santiago, Chile. Her husband, the silver-haired gentleman sitting beside her, is a Frenchman. They have just recently moved to the States and had gotten these free tickets to the race. They ask me about the weather.

 "Well, usually it's very warm and sunny on race day, and people tan themselves."

 They don't look like they believe me.

 Finally the plane lands, everyone wishes each other well, and scatters in a hundred directions.

Karen and I walk to the car in the rain, and drive home in the rain.

Three months later she's in a plane to Texas to see her granddaughter.

And she hasn't stopped flying since.