My flight is domestic and short. They journey from Phoenix, Ariz. to Park City, Utah takes two hours and makes me question whether or not I like flying.
My plane is not large or spacious or comfortable. Plastic-walled with blue vinyl seats, it is packed tight with passengers. I wonder if they share my sense of docile irritation. We sit like sardines packaged in bottled air ready to be shot into space. I consider my seatbelt. How will it help me in the event of a crash? The fasten seat belt sign blinks and I obey, strapping myself to the plane.