The flight home from Houston, where I spent the past two days, was really bumpy. For much of the ride, the fasten seatbelt sign was illuminated, and as we bounced along over Arizona climbing and descending to find smoother air, I thought I was going to grind my teeth into dust. I love to travel, but hate to fly and it's turbulence that makes it particularly unpleasant for me.
When Tim and I were dating, we flew somewhere, I can't remember where, and our plane hit a particularly rough patch of turbulence. He was completely un-phased, nose into his book, while I gripped his arm and silently freaked out, convinced we were going to crash. "It's just bumps in the road," he tried to reassure me, but it didn't matter. I was terrified.
He also whispered some other things to me until the bumpiness subsided so whenever I am flying and we hit turbulence, it's his voice I hear first.
"It's just bumps in the road."
"Don't worry."
"See, jet propulsion works like this..."
The next thing I do after trying to relax is scan the flight attendants faces. If they are calm and smiling, then I am calm. If they can go about their business fixing coffee and shuffling papers and doing whatever else it is they do in the galley, then I can go about my business, too. They must know what a reassuring presence they are to passengers especially during turbulence, and for that I thank them. A thousand times.
Whenever we hit bumpy air and the plane starts shaking, the first image in my mind is always of army paratroopers packed into planes about to parachute into France on D-Day. I have no earthly clue as to why this image. I can't know what it was like or if the flights were at all turbulent. Maybe they were smooth, I have no idea, but I think about those men and what that must have been like. Probably most of them had never been in a plane. Probably they were terrified of turbulence too, but that terror couldn't have even compared to the horror that lay ahead for those kids. In some ways, though, that image helps to assuge my fear, because that was so long ago, and those planes flew just fine, and look how far aviation technology has come.
There was a time when I couldn't fly at all. Tim and I went on vacation to Las Vegas and I just couldn't get on the plane home. He humored me and rented a car and drove us all the way back to San Francisco. We actually made it an adventure and he never once said I was crazy or complained. He was patient and we made the best of it. I, however, knew how crazy-nuts that little stunt was, and vowed to overcome my fear.
I read somewhere that at around age 27 or 28 we are suddenly confronted with our own mortality. Suddenly things we used to do all the time become frightening: flying, skiing, what have you. I was about that age when I started asking myself if I could live the rest of my life without ever sitting on beach in Bali or going on a safari or drinking wine in Argentina. The answer was no.
I read everything I could about planes and flying. I read statistics over and over again. I got a prescription for v@lium which was fine, but didn't quite take the edge off. Once on a plane all I could do was sit there and will the plane to get to its destination safely. I couldn't watch the movie, read, or listen to music. Sleep? Ha! Never. On one flight to London with my mom, I sat the entire time staring straight ahead from the moment we took off until the moment we landed. There and back. I was convinced that my paying careful attention to every little noise, every detail, was directly related to the plane being able to stay in the air. Even being in comfy business class didn't help matters.
I know part of it is a control thing. I have no idea how to fly a plane and being relinquished of all control when I am used to having so much control over where and how I get somewhere is a hard thing to accept. But I half of my family lives in Italy and the other half lives in Hawaii (plus I have a sister in Dubai whom I would love to visit) so getting over my fear of flying was critical.
I can get on a plane now. I can watch the movie. I can read. I can now, almost 12 years after not being able to get on that plane, even sleep. X@n@x helps. A lot. I have a full 1mg prescription and I take it 1/4 of a tablet at a time. A little the night before. A little before I get on the plane, and when the turbulence starts, that last 1/4 is downed with water. It takes the edge off. Completely. We're talking Dullsville. But still, I don't like it.
Last night as we descended into San Francisco, the bumps started again, the plane shook violently as we flew over San Mateo and didn't stop being pulled up, down, and side-to-side, until we were hovering over the bay about to touch down. God, there is no better feeling in the world than wheels hitting tarmac. As we left the plane, the pilots came out to stand in the doorway, something I am seeing pilots do more of lately and that makes me happy. I love seeing who is "driving" the plane. More than one person said "thank you" to them as we deplaned, and I could only look into their eyes, smile, and meet their "Good-bye, now" with a "bye" of my own.
And 15 minutes later, my beautiful family collected me from outside baggage claim, all "Mamma! What did you bring us from Houston!" and we bounced along the freeway toward dinner and home.
