FLIGHT PLANS

I don’t like heights – never really have. I don’t know why, but being up in the air freaks me out. I don't even like to jump. Okay, I may be exaggerating about that. Still, it probably won’t surprise you to learn that skydiving, along with line dancing, is one of the two things I won’t do. I'm just not into cheating gravity like that. Evolution didn't provide for it.

I will get on a plane, though. If I have to. It may take some coaxing, a little meditation, and half a Valium – but I can usually be herded onto an airbus without too much kicking and screaming. Usually.

See – the thing people don’t understand about the fear of flying is that it’s not actually a fear of flying. It’s a fear of crashing. Flying is great. Flying I enjoy. Flying is like an amusement park ride you can have a few drinks on. Crashing is the part that sucks. And you can give me all the statistics you want on how much safer it is to fly than to drive and I will remind you that there are far more people driving than flying. I will also point out that the majority of car accidents are not fatal. Not true for air disasters. You don’t hear about too many fender-benders in a 767. If your jet plane is totalled, chances are you will be, too. So I like to keep all of those fancy statistics in perspective. I’d rather be in a dozen car accidents over the course of my life and LIVE to pay higher insurance premiums than to be in just one plane crash. Even if it would mean a better value on the life insurance premiums I ought to be paying.

What exactly is it about flying that terrifies me so? It was on a recent trip to Palm Springs (the details of which I will share in due time) that I managed to pinpoint the primary source of my anxiety: turbulence. But not JUST turbulence. Turbulence without explanation. That stomach-dropping sense of uncertainty accompanied by an inability to focus on a pleasant outcome because no one will tell me what the fuck is going on.

I used to think it was a control issue – that I would feel better if I could be the one steering the plane. But that’s not necessarily true, especially considering I don’t know the first thing about flying a plane. What turns out to be true is that all I really need to shift from a frazzled Jim Ignatowski to a calm James Bond is a little information.

“This is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know we’re experiencing some routine turbulence, so please remain in your seats with your belts on for the next 20 minutes or so until we can find some better air.”

And that’s it – then I’m good. That little bit of information is all I need to get my mind off of an inevitable crash landing and back on the disappointing in-flight movie. A few words to pacify me. A simple communication makes all the difference in the world. Sometimes you'll get a pilot kind enough to share what’s going on…other times they are not so thoughtful. And the less information I get, the worse I feel. My mind makes up these horrible excuses: "They're not explaining the turbulence because they CAN'T! We're disappearing in aviation's Bermuda triangle. How can my girlfriend read her magazine when we're knocking on heaven's door?"

But whether I get a word from the pilot or not, the turbulence always comes to a close and the plane always ends up on the ground in one piece. That's been my experience with planes, anyhow. So I really have no reason to realistically believe I'll be involved in a crash. The fear is completely irrational...and yet it exists. Funny to think how a few words can settle me faster than a tequila drip.

Here’s a link on turbulence, by the way, for those of you who share a fear of crashing. I am going to print it out and bring it with me next time I fly. It’s the information I need to relax and enjoy the view – even when the cabin is shaking like a wet dog.

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/columnist/getline/2005-06-20-ask-the-captain_x.htm

All this talk about anxiety and information made me think about life in general and how, when things get bad at work, or with a loved one, or with my health – all I really need to feel better most of the time is to hear the pilot let me know we’re just going through a little turbulence and everything is going to be fine.

When the agency isn’t as busy as I think it should be and there’s been a round of salary cuts, I need the pilot to let me know that we’re still on course for great things. When I do something stupid to invite the ire of my wonderful girlfriend, I just need the pilot to tell me that the whole plane isn’t going down. When I’m freaked about a new pain or sudden sickness, I just need the pilot to assure me that what I’m feeling is normal (for someone who eats the way I do). And when the pilot doesn't give me the reassurance I need, I've found myself relying on the co-pilot inside my head to let me know things are going to be fine. I just wish my co-pilot didn’t drink so damn much.

And for those of you reading this right now, this is your pilot speaking. We've got nothing but clear skies today, so kick back and enjoy the ride. Life is good.