Fear of Flying

It is 7am Sunday morning, I have been up since 5 and I am already crashing, which is funny because in a little more than an hour I very well could be falling to my death and dying in a terrible plane crash.

I really hate flying. This fear is not logical; there really is no reason. This morning as our dear friend was driving us to the airport at the awful hour of 5:30 am this subject came up.
"You know more people die in car crashes then plain crashes."
I know that this is true, I took statistics and I passed. But that does not clam the screaming hysterical voice in my head that is screaming " I know that more people die in car crashes but when you get in a car crash there is a chance that you will survive, in a plain crash it is pretty cut and dry, it's burning death, and metal. And if I do survive, I'll be trapped on some creepy island with Ben, and Hurly, and Jack..."

See you can tell how rational I am. When I mentioned this fear my dear not so dear husband told me that my logic was “irrational” because we are going to Seattle, we will not be flying over the Ocean and if we crash we will land in a field with trees and maybe some Edward Cullen like Vampires will come and rescue me. But he has also just brought me some McDonalds so maybe he is dear again.

I started flying by myself when I was seven. I would fly from my home in Fresno, to where ever my Father was living, for a long time it was New Mexico. I was a mixed bag of emotions, fear at leaving my mother, excited to see my father, fear that I would die, fear of the unknown. I think that these feelings, which were totally normal for a seven year old, lie dormant and wait until it is time to fly to resurface. Why is that? I should be a pro; flying should be like walking, nothing new, and something that I don’t really think about. Yet it reduces me to a quite, quivering child.

Time to board now. I am walking to my little tiny seat, and trying to figure out how I am going to fit my 5’9 frame into those tiny bathrooms. Of course my carryon bag is to big for the left over space in the overhead compartment. We are flying stand by, so the hubsberg is sitting in front of me. And now the moment is upon me. It is time to let go, to stop thinking about all of my fears. I lean my head back in the seat as the forces of take off throws me back and slowly we defy gravity and begin to soar above the ocean. For a moment I forget about my silly fears and just breathe and enjoy the view.

P.S. We are now flying over the foothills of home and will soon be flying over Yosemite my home turf. Soon we will be passing Lake Tahoe and leaving my beautiful golden state, and heading north towards the rain, sea food and Tom Hanks’s house boat.