I've never really been an air-show sort of girl. Yeah, a plane, another plane, lots of loud planes, whatever.

I'm even less into it now. Now, when I hear jets screaming over Chicago, or when I see a huge, low-flying airplane hovering over the skyline, I get freaked. I need to remind myself that there's an air show. That these fighters and jets and cargo planes and whatever are just practicing for the air show. No, really, it's ok. You can start breathing again.

I'm glad I'm not downtown in my old office. That office had possibly the best view in the city -- north on Michigan Avenue, west on the river, and east out over the lake. The damn planes come right at it. Gah.