My head was literally above the clouds, which got me thinking about a lot of things.

It’s weird strapping into a 757 aircraft using a seatbelt that would be better suited for a school bus. Nothing screams “SAFETY” quite like a pseudo bandana hand-wrapped around my waist. The plane travels up to 600 mph and I can’t exactly say that the sorry excuse for an oversized band-aid buckle is gonna keep me safe if we tumble down into the Atlantic Ocean. Seat cushions save sore butts, not lives.

I didn’t even feel safe on the runway. Mainly because the plane didn’t have a pilot.

Yeah, no pilot. I offered to step up, but the flight crew didn’t let us know about their captain-less problem until after everyone boarded. And there was no way I dared to maneuver out of my school bus seatbelt in attempt to reach the cockpit.

After calling in a reserve pilot (yes, those exist), we were ready for takeoff. I love being 45 minutes delayed. Oh wait, I get to sit in my cramped seat with my knees pressed into the ribs of the person in front of me? Pure joy. My clenched fists, crinkled furrow, and dwindling Macbook battery are all signs that I’m intensely happy with the flight delay.

The good news is I can always turn to Twitter to express my frustrations. I’ve been told people sometimes get compensated for bitching and moaning on Twitter. Sign me up.

I tweeted @AmericanAir with a genuinely enraged tone expecting either a flight voucher of a complimentary private jet. I was presented with neither. But what they did respond with was some terrific, light-hearted fun. “Oh we’re sorry about the delay! Please have a safe flight.” I felt like I reached the American Airlines answering service.

So clearly Twitter didn’t accomplish anything. I’m really not surprised. Another reason why I’m thinking about going digitally blind. What’s the point? If I spent a month living without social media or dating apps, would I really miss it?

Twitter - I can’t win a G5 for bitching about flight departure time or leg room.

Facebook - My mom’s on it.

Instagram - Choosing what filter to use shouldn’t take longer than brushing my teeth.

Snapchat - I’ve seen way too many of my friends’ poops.

Tinder - If I match with one more Tinder virus, I’m going to lose it. “Hi, do you want to have sex?” Well, yes, but you’re not real.

Bumble - I’d rather start a conversation with my dog. Thankfully, she’s not on Bumble.

Meet Me Outside - Does this app even work? Or is it so fit that it’s “Always in Beta”? #NewBalance. I’d rather go on a hike high with friends I’ve met outside of a smartphone.

I’ll give it one more week; one more week of digital disasters. In a week, I’m laying down the ground rules for going digitally blind for one month. Essentially, it’ll be one month of digital death. There will be no ceremony. No words of remorse. Mostly just death. A lot of digital death. Thirty days of no social media, dating apps, or other phone time wasters. I’m already thinking of all the things I could accomplish without all the iPhone’s distractions. For example, learn how to fly a plane. Apparently they’re running out of pilots nowadays.

I blame Tinder.