Eustachian Tube Dysfunction

My name is Mike. I am almost twenty years old, and I do not like to travel on airplanes.

I was on this plane, crying in the bathroom

Now, usually when people say that they don't like to travel on airplanes, the first thought is to assume that they are afraid of flying. And of course the natural reaction is for friends, loved ones, and total strangers at the terminal to offer statistics about plane crashes, give rudimentary physics lessons detailing the unlikelihood of a plane crash, and give away a few of their "Magic Night-Night Pills".

I don't really think that's fair. There is a multitude of reasons to despise flight, and that multitude transcends irrational fears and superstitions. For those that fly often, and without trouble, it can be hard to empathize with those who struggle with serious flight issues. Issues like motion sickness, claustrophobia, pressure headaches, not having your puppy with you, severe Eustachian Tube Dysfunction (really plugged up ears), and, last but not least, mild Eustachian Tube Dysfunction (kind of plugged up ears). 

I'm not claustrophobic and I don't have a puppy, but I would gladly take claustrophobia (and an adorable little puppy) over motion sickness. Because at least then I would have some dignity. But as it stands now, I have three options on a turbulent flight: puke in a bag at my seat, disobey the seat-belt sign and angry flight attendants to puke in a tiny, dark bathroom; or, if I'm lucky, make it to the airport without puking, think I'm fine, realize I'm not, and puke in a slightly less tiny, slightly better-lit bathroom. 

And that's not even the least dignified flight issue I have. My real issue is that at high altitudes, my ears cannot adjust to the pressure difference, and I am left with extreme pressure build-ups and pain in my ears (severe Eustachian Tube Dysfunction). This is worse than nausea, because it leaves me incapacitated in my seat, clutching my head like a crazy person. Now, if you're a child on an airplane, and you're holding your ears tight as though you expect your head to explode, it's understandable. But when you've got a high school diploma on your wall back at home, it becomes hard to explain to your fellow passengers. Especially through all the tears.

But all of that being said, I am almost twenty years old, and I am, in fact, afraid of flying.

I will admit to that, and I will admit that the fear is irrational. But I will try to explain it anyway. 

Normally, I would enlist my best pal, Microsoft Powerpoint, to assist me in this explanation, but sadly he was busy not being installed on my computer. So I will instead take advantage of the visual aid...skills...of my other friend...a really great program, super helpful at everything...beautiful illustrations...Microsoft...Paint.

Right. Hi Paint. How are the kids?

Oh dear lord. Okay, where was I? Ah yes, flying.

Now, I know you guys already have your "Physics For Dummies" books out and you're ready to sit me down and teach me the basics of flight, the principles of lift, and push your glasses back up your nose as you assure me that air travel is perfectly safe. I get that. My brain knows that. That's not the problem. The problem is that my eyes don't know that. 

Let me explain what I mean. My brain knows how a plane is able to stay in the air. My brain knows that, in virtually all situations that are not takeoff and landing, there is literally nothing within a five million foot radius for the plane to crash into. So those aren't things that scare me. 

My brain knows other things. My brain knows that a plane lives and dies by its wings. Because really, as long as a plane:

A) has its wings, and 
B) hasn't been snapped in half by Megashark,

then the worst thing a 747 can do is turn into a glider. A $20 million glider to be exact. But if something happens to the wings...

Okay Paint, you're fired.

Tough. If the wings go.....well, I guess Paint was right in that situation. He was still a jerk though.

ANYWAY, my brain has this vital knowledge, that the wings MUST stay intact for the plane to succeed as a plane. Luckily, it also knows that if there's some turbulence, the wings will bounce up and down, a LITTLE bit.


MY EYES MISSED THAT MEMO.


So when I'm sitting there in my window seat, Eyes see the wings start to bounce a little more than usual and they naturally proceed to FREAK OUT. They send panic signals to Brain, along with questions, but Brain can't answer them because he's preoccupied with the pain from my Eustachian Tube Dysfunction. So Heart hears all this racket, decides it's go time, and starts beating faster than Chest can handle. Next thing you know, I've entered full-on panic mode.

This is the part where you ask, "Mike, why don't you just shut the window?" Because, you idiot, what if something bad really does happen to the wing? Then it would be my action-hero duty to storm up to the cockpit, bang on the door, inform the pilot, save the day, and start scheduling my book deals and dinners with Barack. This is also the part where a rationalist would casually inform me that the best thing to do is to remind myself that airplanes are statistically the safest way to travel, and that just because it looks like something bad is happening, doesn't mean there is any actual danger. 

But how am I supposed to convince myself that more bad things aren't going to happen when so many already have? That's like trying to convince yourself that zombies aren't real as your best friend Dave stands in front of you eating brain-on-a-stick.

That's the kicker. The reason I hate flying. The reason I get terrified. Because when all those issues I mentioned earlier, the ETD, the headaches, the puppy lacking...when all of those things take me out of my element, all it takes is a little spark of fear to put me in my panic shoes. All while I'm stuck in a box that until we either land...


...or are eaten by Megashark.

It's an actual movie guys, I hope some of you already knew that.

A Tale of Two Cities...and the Discrepancies in the Quality of their Respective Learning Institutions Circa 2001 at Approximately the Third Grade Level, Give or Take an Academic Year or Two (With Guest Commentator, Otherwise Referred to as My Girlfriend (Who is Real)), Part 1 of 1 (Text Edition, Movie Rights Still Currently Under Negotiation (Take Your Sweet Time, Pixar))

Here is a joint entry, a belated Valentine’s Day gift for all of my viewers. Five million? I think I’m at five million, I haven’t checked in a while though, it could be more.  This is a post co-written with my girlfriend. Here she is:

She did that herself, if you want to buy this piece it’s for sale for $8000.

Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh that’s right, nothing yet. My very real girlfriend and I were recently comparing our elementary school experiences and we found some startling discrepancies. Let’s see if you guys can figure out which one of us went to school in the hood. I’ll throw in a disclaimer: these come with about 10 years of memory rust, and “the hood” was neither dangerous nor scary, it was just…well you’ll see.

When my girlfriend’s third grade teacher decided to take her class on a field trip, she took them to the IMAX theater downtown. Nowadays IMAX screens are commonplace; you’ve probably seen one at your local cinema. But circa 2001, IMAX was a big deal, especially for kids. The opportunity to watch dinosaurs and race cars come to life on a giant 3D canvas was enough to make us lose our marbles. So that’s exactly what they did: they took her and her classmates on a bus downtown to the IMAX and they had a grand old time. Many marbles were lost that day.

Now I’m not trying to say my teachers were bad, cause they had their hearts in the right place. When my third grade teacher wanted to take us on a field trip, she did too. To McDonalds. We hopped on a bus, who knows, maybe the same bus my girlfriend went to IMAX in, but instead of driving to dinosaurs and race cars and adventure, we drove straight to the belly of obesity. I have to say I was confused, even at my young age. I thought we were at least going to learn how a kitchen worked in the fast food world, but they didn’t even let us go in the kitchen. We just sat in the booths and the manager talked to us and we learned nothing about dinosaurs.

Pictured: Not dinosaurs.

Well I’ll be fair, I got the IMAX trip too. But a bus for that one? Too easy. My teacher, school administrator, principal, and whoever else was in charge decided it was acceptable for our third grade class to walk a mile and a half, single file, through the hood, past the local liquor store to get to the light rail station. It’s a good thing our chaperone count stood at a staggering one: the teacher. Leading us from the front. At least the light rail ride was fun, if you disregard the odor.

Maybe that’s too specific of an example though, I mean you can’t expect two schools’ field trips to be exactly the same. (“True that”, my girlfriend says. See guys she’s REAL I swear) Let’s see what else there is…

When my girlfriend’s PE class would get rained out, her teacher would bring the kids in for a jolly old round of board games, and Mancala. A lot of Mancala, apparently.

Which is this, apparently.

When my PE class got rained out we did laps around the inside of the cafeteria. We made sure to say hi to the lunch lady when we passed her.

Speaking of rain, when it rained during lunch at my school, OH BOY I hope you liked the movie they played in the cafeteria to keep kids quiet. If we were loud? No more talking for the rest of lunch, for any of us. They’d lock us in.

Well what did my girlfriend read about in school? As she claims, “We read stories about diversity…I liked them, they were colorful” See, she learned lessons about people getting along and creating better communities.

At my school we read bittersweet tales about underprivileged minorities struggling with everyday life. We learned that, even if we tried to get along…that doesn’t always happen. Or ever happen, it seemed. I was, and still am, amazed at how few happy endings there were. I think at such a young age it came off less like a lesson of diversity and more like a message to be nice to minorities because otherwise they are doomed in life.

My girlfriend went to the computer lab once a week.

I went once a month.

At my girlfriend’s library they read and checked out books.

At my library we organized them.

They made us organize the library.

My girlfriend got free bookmarks.

I got child labor.

Did I mention these are in the same school district, 15 miles away from each other? No? Well they're in the same school district, 15 miles away from each other. 

I don't know how to end this post so here's the first Google image result for "IMAX Dinosaurs"