Okay, I hate to fly. That little secret is out even though my family and few friends know this about me. Now, whoever reads this post will. Oddly, when I was in grade school. I found one of those advertisements in a magazine to fill out and send into stewardess school. I cut it out, filled in the information and mailed it away. I received a packet of information and lied my way through that, and mailed it back.
I doodled away pictures of airline stewardesses and thought if there was an emergency I would be the heroine of that story. One day, I received confirmation that TWA accepted my applications and I could start school in the fall. Me, little old me? I was only in the 8th grade! What the heck was I thinking! I took all the correspondence and threw them in the garbage and waited in fear that the mail police would find out where I lived and arrest me. Nothing happened. But that incident cured me, and I never sent away or filled out another questionnaire.
Then one day I woke up and the "fear of flying" set in. How? Why? I can't answer those questions. Forget about being an airline stewardess, even if they were cute, perky, and had great uniforms, and flew to far off exotic places.
The first time I had to fly - I was petrified. I hated it. It took a long time for me to realize, I hated to fly because I had no control over the plane. My symptoms were interior terror, my mouth would go dry, and I felt light headed. I loved the taking off and landing. I even wouldn't mind flying a few feet about the ground. I definitely could handle that. I also hate when the plane shudders, or hits turbulence, or moves. Yeah, I hate it. I hate everything about flying.
I remember flying one time and sitting by the emergency exit. Remember you get a little more legroom with those seats. I was flying with a friend who sighed as she stretched out her legs. The attendant came on the loud speaker and asked for the passengers to take a look at the typed up plastic paper and familiarize themselves with the emergency exits and procedures. I looked at it, read and re-read it and studied it, until my friend said to put it away because we would be fine. The attendant walked by and asked if I felt comfortable and capable handling an emergency while sitting next to the emergency exit? My heart raced, my eyes went wide and I tried to lick some moisture to my already dried lips. Before I could croak out a word, my friend assured the attendant I could do that and everything would be fine. After the attendant walked away, my friend leaned over and said, "Don't worry, if something happens, I'll knock you out of the way and attend to the door." Anything for a few inches of legroom!
Even though I have flown over 13 times, I am still not comfortable. I still remember flying Southwest Airlines and being given an unlimited amount of pretzels to eat when the plane dropped a few feet, scaring the hell out of everyone, and quieting a group of noisy travelers into silence and fervent prayers.
The first time that I ever flew, I can remember having to wait for hours because of a big winter storm. Another time I had to change planes because of mechanical problems. You can bet that didn't make me feel too relaxed or confident.
It even got better coming back from a Chicago, two months ago with my daughter, Kate, when we flew on a smaller plane. The attendant asked for three passengers to move from the right side of the plane to the left side of the plane so to balance the load!
Recently, on the day I was to fly back from Chicago to Pittsburgh with my daughter, Erin, I awoke to a howling wind, alternating with loud downpours of rain. I turned on the news to find that Chicago was on a tornado alert, and the planes had been grounded at O'Hare airport. We were flying out later in the day. Eventually, that evening, we boarded our plane on time. The pilot wanted us to get our luggage put away quickly, so that we would get our plane up in the air before the new storm moved in.
I'll probably fly when I have to. I'll probably still feel nervous. But, I still rather travel when I have control of the wheel. Maybe I should become a pilot?
On second thought - I don't think so!
I share your fear of flying and had a knot in the pit of my stomach as I read your blog. My fear started on a flight to Texas when we hit a storm and the plane kept dropping. I really thought that we weren't going to make it. I still flew after that, but never could shake that fear.
ReplyDelete