As the saying goes, smile while your heart is aching, and blog when you’re terrified of flying. (Or something like that...)
So here I am, on the morning before flying out to Toronto for a meeting with the rest of the Sweetspot team. As excited as I am about that and the subsequent gabbing about all things sweet, for the moment, it’s overshadowed by a rather unhealthy fear of being inside an airplane.
As mentioned previously, I am downright petrified of flying. (And did I also point out that today is the 13th?Just add that extra fear to my already overflowing bag of neuroses.)
That’s not to say I haven’t done it. I have, many times in fact. Cross-country, cross-Pacific and Atlantic. (Contrary to popular belief, it does not make things easier the more you do them.) And to compound my fear, this time is the first time I’ll be flying solo.
For a panicky flyer, travelling alone presents its own set of unique challenges. For example, who’s going to let me white-knuckle grasp them on take-offs, landings, and during any, and all amounts of turbulence?
This nauseating fear builds to a fever pitch about two days or so before departure. I have trouble eating, sleeping, and thinking of much else. I’m not quite sure when or why this fear took root, and with the exception of one horrendously bad ‘I-and-everyone-else-thought-we-were-going-to-crash’ flight in Italy (from Milan to Trieste), most of my flights have been uneventful.
But yet the phobia remains. I live in fear every minute of the flight, making a three-hour flight unravel like a full day’s travels. And yes, I know all the safety stats, something that my friends and family throw in the face of my fear in hopes that I will acquiesce to their way of thinking. Sadly, it has not worked yet.
So for now, I bid you adieu Calgary, and send regrets to the passenger unlucky enough to be seated beside me. I may cry and reach for your hand, but...but...Ok there is no upside. I’m sorry, and enjoy your flight.