FEAR OF FLYING
by Kris Gillespie
 I've
feared flying all of my life. I don't remember NOT being afraid
of flying. The first time I had to confront the terror, I was
about six and the parents were going skiing in Colorado and
wanted me to go. "Well, are you driving? No? Then, I don't want
to go." I didn't ski until I was 20 years old.
I really can't tell you what this anxiety stems from. For
those into nurture over nature, you may find inspiration in
the following. When I was an infanct, my dad invited his best
friend over to play with the new toy in the house: me. He
was playfully flinging me about the place when he dropped
me on my head. Supposedly, I was out cold for a while. I believe
the seeds of doubt in the airline industry were planted there.
 So
what was the carrot that my parents dangled in front of this
donkey to get it to move? Disneyworld! My father's business
convention was in Orlando during the summer of 1979 and they
were able to convince me to muster up the courage. I was all
psyched up and ready to go when two weeks before departure,
there was a huge crash of a DC-10 at O'Hare in Chicago. I
can't remember what caused it (did the engine fall off or
something?), but damn it, I WAS PETRIFIED... in tears even.
Two weeks passed by and I was still fretting over the tragedy.
"Dad, what kind of plane are we flying on? Is it a DC-10?
No? Does McDonnell Douglas make this plane too?"
I got better as I got older... really. Travelling by plane
became a frequent, sometimes necessary mode of transportation.
I actually thought I was over it when it became a part of
my job. In radio promotion, one must occasionally kiss hands
and shake babies to foster the relationships with the good
and decent folk that program commercial radio. I was on my
way home from one of these junkets when we hit some awful
turbulence and the plane started to 'fishtail,' an extremely
unnatural feeling in the back of a plane. The pilot came on
to apologize for the choppy air, explaining that he had to
change his approach at the last minute and kind of flew through
the wake of another plane.
I even have a reoccurring
plane-crash dream that I have before every big trip. Basically,
it's a takeoff nightmare. I'm sitting on the right side of the
plane in a window seat. The pilot starts to throttle the engines
and we're accelerating down the tarmac. As we begin to take
off, I tense up (as per usual) and grab the armrests. Then,
it happens: the plane starts to stall, pitches and rolls to
the right (so that I get to hit the ground first), and crashes
in a fiery ball.
You can sit there and recite the exemplary safety record
of the airplane versus other forms of travel until you're
blue in the face. I'm fully aware of the facts and am a rational
person, but this is one hurdle I don't think I'll be able
to overcome. I have a working knowledge of aerodynamics and
am still struck with paralyzing fear over flying. But I have
to digress: There's nothing quite like the good feeling of
travelling at high speed in an oversized aluminum can of recycled
air.
So is it more a fear of dying? No, I prefer to think of
it as a fear of not living. I've figured that this neurosis
is either very good because it reminds me how much I value
living and and 'to be a better person' (aww...) or very bad
because I'm going to die from massive ulcers by the age of
40.
So, two weeks ago, I'm sitting on the right side of the
plane in a window seat. The pilot starts to throttle the engines
and we're accelerating down the tarmac. As we begin to take
off, I tense up (as per usual) and grab the armrests. Then,
it happens: some guy's cellular phone starts ringing and he
takes it out to answer it! I literally get up out of my seat
while we're hurtling down the runway and tell the guy "Please
turn that off. Don't you know you're not supposed to use those
during takeoff and landing? Didn't you see When Planes
Go Down with that X-Files woman?!?"
My girlfriend told my to call this article "Wussy Boy,"
by the way.
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