My family has recently been set upon by an infestation of babies. One of them got into my brother and sister-in-law’s house back in March and another one found his way into my sister and brother-in-law’s spare bedroom two weeks ago. So, armed and ready against the cuteness, James and I bravely ventured westward to Kansas to explore the new addition to the latter’s lives.
Unfortunately for me, this meant flying.
Now, before I delve into the il-logic that is my fear of flying, I would like to point out that I have been doing this traveling thing since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I have been around the world officially twice, and I have covered enough air miles in my other travels to probably double or triple that. I have taken over 100 flights in my lifetime on everything from helicopters to light aircraft. My cousin is a pilot, my grandfather was an airplane mechanic, my father knows how to fly planes, and my brother knows how to jump out of them. I am no stranger to choppy skies, “go arounds”, rough landings, discomforting takeoffs, old planes or new. (Though I wouldn’t mind knowing a bit more about business and first class.)
So why am I afraid to fly?
The safety measure of flying is something many a statistician will tell you is the best you can get in the travel industry. For every one plane that doesn’t make its final destination, thousands of birds take off, fly and land exactly as they’re meant to. As I mentioned before, it’s not logical, it’s just a fear.
When James and I started working on Off Track Online, the first thing I decided I wanted to do was address who we like to call the “Timid Traveler”. People who have a burning desire to travel, but are held back by something they feel is out of their control.
For many people, this hurdle is flight.
Leaving the ground, traveling at high speeds well above what many consider to be a reasonable hight, and encountering minor falls and jostles throughout the process is not my personal idea of a good time. I mean seriously, I shy away from kiddie coasters at fairs. So, needless to say, come fly day two days ago, I was a wreck.
Now, I was pretty proud of myself for actually making up to fly day without being a mess of nerves, and I’d actually thought for once that I’d dodged the bullet for a change. Sadly, however, I awoke the next morning with the realization that my insides had gone turncoat on me, and decided I had to settle in for a rough day.
Anxiously awaiting the first flight of the day.
Maybe you’re all too aware of the symptoms: You grind your teeth; your tummy is empty, but the thought of food makes you sick; your throat closes up, maybe you gag or even throw up (that was a new one for me on the morning I moved to China); your head aches; you shake; you can’t turn your mind off. I’m one of those people who thinks I’m powerful enough to bring my plane down with my thoughts, but I never wonder why it wouldn’t get there safely for the same reason (or why I can’t will myself to do other things like win the lottery). In the air, I imagine all sorts of disasters and what the sudden impact would be like – or worse – the long fall. Over the years, it’s become a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy that I tell people I’m a nervous flyer, and now I am a nervous flyer. And this last trip, the fear really almost got me. That is, until I met Bob*.
Bob is a pilot for a major American airline. It was just before our flight to Kansas City that James and I were waiting at the gate and I saw Bob and the other flight crew sitting behind us chatting. From the outset of Off Track, I had wanted to interview a pilot about some of the aspects of flying that make people so nervous, but after little response from most of the airlines I contacted, I jumped on the opportunity to ask a crew member directly if he knew of anyone I could talk to. Cautiously, I approached Bob and asked him if I could bother him for a few minutes. Not only was he accommodating, he and I had one of the most wonderful conversations I’ve ever had the pleasure of being a part of with a complete stranger. I told him about my trepidations about flying and he told me his wife suffered the same thing. He was surprised to hear about some of the reasons I was scared to fly, and I was a bit surprised that he just couldn’t imagine someone being afraid to fly. His attitude was understanding, his position informative and the overall experience was calming. He even joked with me about how the first officer was really competent given this was his second day on the job (and how he’d just completed his training on “Iflyplanes.com”). He also fully commiserated with my poor, beleaguered husband.
Bob was brilliant, and I spent the entire bumpy flight reassured that the man behind the wheel was fully capable of doing the job he’d been hired to do.
Overlooking Midwestern farmlands.
As the passengers disembarked from our safely landed plane, James and I slowly followed the pack up to the front so we could head out to meet our expanding family. Standing in the cockpit door, however, was Bob, and he excitedly pulled us aside and told me to “climb in”. I immediately turned into a six year old at Christmas. I practically jumped into the captain’s chair and sat at the helm, mesmerized by the control panel in front of me. At that moment, Bob introduced me to Fred, the first officer, who – as it turns out – has been in the industry for over 26 years – and also does the world’s most spot-on impression of Bill Clinton. Fred and I chatted about the controls, and he showed off all the bells and whistles (which were actually more alarms and buzzers, but no less cool). He even jumped out for a second to give James a chance to sit at “the wheel” and graciously took a number of photos of us “flying” the plane. Fred’s real enthusiasm though, came out when he spoke about his job. It was clear to me that he dearly loves what he does, and he intends to do it for a long, long time. His interest in flying, his drive to be a pilot, and his passion for taking planes up and bringing them down safely were apparent. He explained the technical aspects of the plane in terms of things he let the plane do and things he preferred to do himself. He was as surprised as Bob had been to hear that I was nervous to fly, and did his best to ensure that I would take to the skies with them again soon.
As we finally, but very reluctantly removed ourselves from the conversation, Bob approached us again, asking me if I was still afraid to fly. I happily told him “a little, but it’s going away.” We both agreed that whiskey helped too.
Though it remains to be seen if this remarkable experience actually succeeded in making me into the fear-eating traveler I want to be, it has completely changed my perspective on how I view people in the airline industry. So many things I’ve taken for granted regarding how so second nature something like flying a plane could be are now exciting to know. In the future, when I get my interview, I hope that I will be able to extend my new reassurance to you, the Timid Traveler, and make you ready for that once-in-a-lifetime experience fear has driven you to put off for too long. In the meantime, I tip my hat to the men and women who work in the airline industry, especially those who go that extra mile to show off their passions to a reforming Timid Traveler like me.
Ready to go?
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent… at least until I find out if it’s OK to use their real names.
Off Track Online 