I recently flew (on a plane) for the first time in many, many years. To say I don’t like to fly is an understatement. I DON’T fly. Period. I drive everywhere, including up and down the country to WI and back to see my family.

With my new job came new responsibility and one of my goals for this year (the big 4-0) was to fly again. I knew I *may* have to fly this year with the new job, but it wasn’t a given. Until they told me they were sending me to a conference (which I am VERY grateful for). Being terrified of flying and also going somewhere new, I stocked up on the Xanax (thanks, Doc!), got some breathing exercises from my therapist, and hubs dropped me off at the airport armed with a dragon and a kiss.

Let me tell ya, Xanax is WONDERFUL! I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I would have been and I was actually excited to get on the plane, headed for new land. The flight was non-stop (oh, I wasn’t taking any chances on my first foray back in the friendly skies) and it wasn’t bad at all. I hate takeoff the most – after that, I’m pretty good and landing is fun b/c I CAN SEE LAND. lol.

My first time in Las Vegas was everything I had hoped, sans the walking. I’m pretty sure I walked more during my week in Vegas than I have in any other time in my life. It was painful (plantar fasciitis), but worth it. The conference was amazing, the mountains were gorgeous, the Strip was alive, and I had some of the best food and saw the best show (twice). You can follow my adventures on Instagram under the hashtag #VivaRossVegas.

Now, the plane ride home was not as glorious. I came home with way more than I went with so I had to buy some extra luggage to lug all my chachkies in. In my panicked packing frenzy of trying to stuff everything into bags, I accidentally packed my Xanax into my checked bag. I didn’t realize it until I got to the airport, checked in, and went to have a bite to eat and take a pill. No pill. Don’t panic, Sherri. Just have a cocktail (or four) and call it a day. The cocktails worked a little magic until our flight was delayed over an hour because “a passenger has a medical issue and we’re going back to the gate.” Aggghh! By the time we actually took off, I was my old, neurotic, nervous self rocking back and forth in my seat with my hands holding my earbuds as far into my ears as they would go and my eyes closed tight. I really looked special. Thankfully, the sweet veterinarian sitting in my row offered up a plastic stress dog that, when you squeeze him, his eyeballs pop out. What fun for a crazy person! I squeezed that dog so hard his head nearly popped off. Takeoff was rocky (for me), the trip was ok, and I was happy once we started to descend.

All in all, a very good trip and yes, I will fly again. With Xanax. And probably other things. But hey, I reached my goal, marked that off my bucket list and my ‘To Do at 40’ list (along with walking around Vulcan), and BOOM, I lived to tell about it. All that to say, you can do anything you set your mind to. I *could* have driven to Vegas (and seriously mapped out the road trip when I was first told I was going), but I put my extra large big girl panties on, took a few deep breaths, and flew off into the sunset singing, “Viva Las Vegas.” Join me next time!