Thanks to D. for the inspiration !
Funny you should ask about planes. I would be a liar if I said I wasn't afraid. I AM afraid. There are lots of things to worry about before during and after take off let’s face it. Fly the Friendly Skies . . . Ha!
Sitting around in the waiting area is stressful. There is this certain aura that surrounds the whole place. It’s kind of like a cross between a doctor’s office and waiting in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Not many people talk to each other. They are rummaging through their bags. (I do it constantly myself). Someone is going to want to see ‘your papers’. YOU want to see ‘your papers’. . . again and again and STOP IT! You realize this is the time for you to suddenly decide that, no you really don’t want to take THIS particular flight, how about the next one? Who cares if the people on the other end picking you up would then have to show up at the airport at 3:22 AM?
I don’t like that funny place at the end of the hallway where the door of the plane is open and the ramp ends. They try to make it look like you are not about 20 feet off the ground right there, but I see that drop through the crack of the accordion doors, they don’t fool ME! I don’t like stepping over the threshold into the plane. I think that’s why they have all the pretty attendants greeting you there and smiling at you like Cheshire cats, to distract you long enough to get you ON the plane and IN your seat before you change your mind.
I don’t like that sound that the little air vents make over the seat. All that does is make me think of what happens if they stop . . . venting. I don’t like the way all the lights go dim when they start up the engines, that’s very suspicious. And the take off. . . what can I say, I don’t like roller coasters. You couldn’t PAY me to go on one. And here I am PAYING these people big money to scare the wits out of me. That feeling of your stomach being about two steps behind you I can hardly call a “thrill”. It’s more like terror. And it is not socially acceptable to acknowledge it in any way. So you are stuck. At least on a roller coaster, everyone EXPECTS you to scream. I don’t think they want you to scream on an airplane pretty much any time at all.
I don't like the fact that you can't step outside for a breath of air. (Shoot, there’s plenty of room out there on the wing to stroll around) I don't like all the other obvious dangers. What if some maniac decides he really DOES need a breath of air and opens one of the emergency doors?
I don't like the cramped seating. And I am not that big a person, I can only imagine some 6'4" guy that weighs 190 sitting in those seats. It's clearly ridiculous to expect people to sit in those seats for hours on end.
BUT, I overcome all these fears and get on a plane to go places from time to time. I bring an entire daypack full of things to distract myself with. Cross word puzzles. (What’s an eleven letter word for disaster that begins with a “c”? . . . . . C a t a s t r o p h e.) I bring a long book, a short book, a magazine, a journal, (To write my last will and testament if I need to). A tape player that I am afraid to use in case I mess up the electronics of the plane somehow and make the it crash just because I wanted to hear Barry Manilow while flying over Omaha Nebraska. And food. You must bring food with you on a plane. Chocolate is food. Bring chocolate. Nothing really bad can happen to you when you are eating chocolate I don’t think.
I bring all this stuff because I don't want to sit there for 4 hours with my fingers in my ears saying, La la la la la la la la la... the whole time, someone might try to give me medication or something! So I do my best not to DWELL on the weird sounds coming from under my feet, or the frost that's building up on the outside of the window. . .(is that NORMAL frost? Is this window fully FUNCTIONAL?) Those sorts of thoughts, you know.
And the landing, well what can I say. Those sudden drops and bumps and wide banking turns are usually accompanied by heartfelt prayer on my part. I try very hard NOT to grip the arms on the seat. I want to look calm. But the whole time I am thinking about the condition of the tires on the landing gear, and the skill of the pilot. (WHY OH WHY did I not ask to see HIS papers before I got on board?) Although I DO appreciate a good landing and have been known to give my compliments to the pilots on the way off the plane. But by then I am so happy to be back on the ground, I could probably forget myself and compliment the food too.
It's a mind game all the way for me. But I get on the blasted contraptions because usually at the other end, there are loving relatives waiting to soothe my rattled nerves. To tell you the truth, I have scarier moments in the stupid car. But I get in that too. The conclusion I have come to is this: either I am profoundly brave, or incredibly stupid.
I am going with the brave part :-)
(Hey, Pragmatist, was that the proper place to put a colon?)