The mere sight of a plane is enough to make Herbert nervous.

Actually having to ride in one sends him spiraling into a panic.

The fact that the flight attendants are wearing sweatshirts and shorts does not inspire his confidence.

Nevertheless, he searches their faces for a sign that something is wrong. Does that smile seem a little strained?

Once underway, Herbert is subject to countless small indignities, such as happy face shaped pretzels. Are they supposed to make him feel better about his impending doom?

His fellow passengers busy themselves with various trivialities. He wonders how they can do anything other than contemplate the fragility of life.

Why is it that he, who usually scorns life in general, clings to it so desperately at the slightest sign of turbulence?

Everything seems a little bit off somehow. He wonders if he smells smoke.

How could they be so oblivious to their surroundings? Or maybe they're just incredibly brave.

The plane lands successfully. Herbert quietly rejoices.