I’ve got a bit of a flying problem. Not that I’m scared of flying; I’ll be the last person on the plane white-knuckling the armrest during take off. And it doesn’t make me sick. Except for that time I was winging it to my brother’s wedding cracked out on the vicodin cough medicine the good doc had given me and wouldn’t you know, liquid narcotics and turbulence do. not. mix. And if I thought horking at home was bad, it was nothing compared to the hygienic nightmare of the airplane lavatory. And there was no bathmat to curl up on.
Yesterday morning, I seriously misjudged the amount of time it takes to get from my new digs to the airport. I’m used to a 20 minute door-to-gate commute. And having already checked in online, that’s exactly what I allowed myself. Silly me. As it turns out, my new drive was at least 35 minutes, the security lines were exceptionally long for it being only 7AM, and after stabbing my feet back into my shoes, I went running for the gate. I’d say sprinting but let’s be honest, it wasn’t anywhere near as graceful as the word sprint implies. I was gallumping. It wasn’t pretty. And my laptop smacked against my thigh so many times, I may have discovered a cure for cellulite. By the time I found a seat (Oh, Southwest, you and your wacky no-assigned-seats policy) and made sure my seat belt was securely fastened low and across my hips (me, I follow instructions), the door was shut and the flight attendants were halfway into their safety routines. My heart was racing. Then on went the engines and… I woke up 40 minutes later.
And, therein lies the problem.
Who goes from competing in the Awkward Olympics to comatose in twenty seconds? I do. I had an hour’s worth of work to do on that flight. And an hour’s worth of work to do on the flight back later that evening. And yet, I spent both of those hours working on nothing more than putting deep plastic window cover creases into the side of my face. Twice now I’ve fallen asleep with my boss in the adjacent seat while we were supposed to be going over our meeting agenda. Embarassing? Uh, a little. But it’s like taking the crying baby out for a drive; the moment the vibrations start, I’m catatonic. And once we land and hustle off to our meetings, I’m hardly raring to go. I’m sorry, what did you say? I was busy digging the sleep crusties out of my eyes.
I’ve got to do this all again on Friday. I’m looking into adrenaline injections.
The same thing happens to me, you’re not alone! Settled in, ready for my typical coast-to-coast flight, got my good books ready, looking forward to an in-flight movie and yet I often pass out before we even take off. I attribute it to cabin pressure, some sleepy mix of CO2 in the air.
Is it too late to just tell your boss that you normally get airsick and the medicine you take makes you drowsy? Otherwise I’m not help. I’m the world’s worst, most impatient, flier. I’m so high strung thinking about the remaining travel itinerary that I’m usually praying for sleep on the plane just to stop my from counting the tens of thousands of seconds until we land and I can get on with my life.
This is me too, or at least “was.” I was telling someone about how I always crash out on airplanes, and they asked me if I was airsick as a kid. (And was I *ever*!) I think my body sort of adapted to “omigod, I’m going to spend hours nauseous and/or heaving” by knocking me out as soon as the cabin is cleared for takeoff. (Honestly, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep before we are in the air.) When are you not nauseous? When you’re asleep. ANYWAY, once I had that explained to me, I had more control over passing out in the passenger cabin.
I always try to sleep on the red-eye flights but never manage to.
Have you thought of trying a B vitamin supplement about 20 minutes before you get on the plane? B vitamins are not only good for you, but they can give you a little bit of a pick-me-up too.
I do the exact same thing — my friends marvel at my ability to fall asleep before we even taxi down the runway! The only way I manage to stay awake when I need to, is to obsessively chew a piece of gum til the flavor runs out and then pop another. Constantly working my jaw seems to keep me awake. Maybe you can use the gum trick until you and your boss actually get to talking!
I am jealous of your problem. I hate sitting there for hours. I would love it if I could miss the flight.
I am jealous of your problem. I hate sitting there for hours. I would love it if I could miss the flight.
I took a ferry once on the Irish sea, and it was so rough, everyone was required to sit down and strap in while the crew passed out sick bags, walking down the aisles getting slammed from all over the place.
My boyfriend and I gripped the sides of our seats, closed our eyes, and tried not to throw up. Eventually, the motion, the meditation on NOT BARFING, or some combination lulled us both to sleep. I’d bet it is a motion-sickness reflex.
ME TOO! After a flight last month, the following conversation was relayed to me by one of my colleagues:
Boss: When I was boarding, I thought I saw Erin up there in the front of the plane, but I’m not sure… is she on this flight too?
Colleague: Was she already knocked out cold up against the window?
Boss: Yep. Fast asleep…
Colleague: Definitely Erin.
You’re not alone, dear. Plane sleep is some of the best sleep I get!
Me too! 100 miles in motion and I’m in dreamland. Only I problem when I’m driving.
I totally understand – me too. But those of you that think’s it’s sleep it’s really not. Heather definitely is right about it being like a coma. Although asleep, I’m definitely never rested.
you have no idea how much i WISH i could sleep on planes! i travel often for work and my biggest nightmare is chatty cathy sitting next to me on a three hour flight to detroit while all i want to do is read my novel.
I want to feel sorry for you, but mostly I’m just envious that you can actually sleep on a plane!
I think I’m actually a little jealous. I have NEVER been able to fall asleep on a plane. And this sucks, because I WANT to!!! We live in California, my family lives in Nova Scotia. That’s waaaay too many hours sitting in a seat yawning with no sweet release into sleep and THEN going straight into the hectic visiting with family and friends and sleep is now a distant memory from sometime in the past.
I will trade you “airplane comatose-ness” for “too wired and can’t possibly sleep sitting upright in a million years with strangers all around-ness.”
i wish i had your problem! try a 19 hour international flight with sleeping drugs AND STILL NO SLEEP.