I don't do prop planes.
Doc H, knowing what I was thinking said, "You booked the flights" in a don't-look-at-me, it's-not-my-fault, defensive tone.
Sweet baby Jeezus, I just want to get home without falling from the sky.
Thankfully, that prop plane was not our plane. Our plane pulled up and was a smidgen larger with two small jet engines.
My insides settled. Just a little.
On the inside, I was cursing myself for not fully utilizing my "doc wife" card to it's fullest extent. Why, oh why, didn't I ask Doc H for a prescription of pills which would render me senseless... a state of unconsciousness even more preferable.
I loathe flying.