The last time I got on an aircraft was to make an emergency trip during Covid to visit my younger daughter abroad. I knew that the "test" could deliver a poisonous payload and harvest my DNA, so I was risking myself. The flight experience was horrid and tyrannical; the only time I would wear a muzzle. The bureaucracy and privacy invasion to get travel permission was disgusting. I didn't sleep the night before.
I now associate flying with genocide, rape of my bodily integrity, and state violence in general. I don't want to go near airports or board a plane. But those under the spell who didn't perceive the danger or wrongness don't understand why I am traumatised, and won't travel around on family business any more. On the surface it seems a bit pathetic, but that's because the silent weapons leave invisible wounds.
Right now I don't trust air travel in a post-Covid era. Jabbed pilots, woke airlines, capricious governments. Not sure if I ever will again. Am OK staying put.
Never liked flying but did it to visit places I wanted to see. It’s been four years and I can’t see myself doing it ever again unless and until the world is not so messed up. “People”, if that’s what you want to call them, are zombies and I can’t stand to be around them, much less in a cramped tube 30,000 feet up. What possibly could go wrong? And breathing in the air of all those jabbed and boostered goons just makes me ill thinking about it. No thanks, and like you, I am more content and peaceful staying out of that circus they are calling life!
