Like anyone else, I would prefer my death to come later, rather than sooner - I'm guessing I would feel most comfortable living somewhere between the ages of 100 and 103. This, of course, would be my preference if I had my mind, mobility, and bowel movements still intact. At that point, I might even like my curly hair which will certainly prevent me from getting those god awful perms that old ladies seem to adore.
Right now, the single most obsessive fear I have is the fear of flying. Let me clarify. The fear of dying in a plane crash. This has been a fear of mine since high school and I have had many years of practicing this fear. Ask anyone who has flown with me and they will tell you that I am not exaggerating one bit. Have you ever seen a grown woman in her tiny airplane seat in the fetal position, gently rocking back and forth, hands over her ears humming loudly? That was probably me.
My aunt and I debate over the worst way to go. She says, hands down, dying in a car wreck would surely be the worst. No way! Usually a car wreck is instant. No time to think. Just BAM! How many times do you read..."so and so died upon impact and was pronounced dead at the scene." Not that I want to die in a car wreck, but I'm just saying, if it is going to happen, let it be in an instant. I will agree, however, that when the "jaws of life" are involved - my theory falters a bit.
A plane crash, on the other hand, terrifies me to the very core of my being. I don't obsess about the actual "crash" part of the situation, but the four or five minutes of falling out of the sky and being infinitely aware of my impending death. In my mind, I can hear the screaming, chaos and terror in the cabin. I can imagine the feeling of free falling 38,000 feet - or whatever cruising altitude is these days. That seems like enough time to really ponder your demise in a pretty horrific setting. I can picture the fuselage shaking violently as oxygen masks drop from overheard. I vividly hear ladies screaming, and babies crying while the latest issue of People magazine and some body's orange juice flies overhead. Will the flight attendants strap themselves in? Or are they programmed to just keep comforting everyone even though they know it is pointless.
Gross, right? Possibly insane? I guess so.
Now, I do have to pat myself on the back for one thing. Even though I hate to fly - and clearly "hate" is an understatement - I still choose to do so every chance I have the opportunity to go somewhere. I guess that is where my love for travel trumps my fear of death. But despite being willing to travel on an airplane, I have had to come up with some "methods" to help get me through the ordeal.
For instance, upon boarding, I have to "tap" the exterior of the plane three times for good luck. (Thanks, Regina, for imparting this OCD compulsion on an already crazy passenger!). I'm not sure how this helps exactly, but I do it religiously. I suppose it is no "weirder" than a baseball player having to wear his lucky underwear or grabbing his nuts three times before he pitches the ball.
Before the flight attendants secure the aircraft, and for sure before we taxi down the runway, I have to say this very specific prayer. Of course, it is one that I made up, but so far it has seemed to work:
Dear God. Please watch over this plane. Please touch the hands of the pilots and see to it that they fly this plane safely. Please watch over everyone on board and see to it that they get to their final destinations safely. Please watch over Ava, Lorenzo and Angelo (and each of the grandparents watching them...and Eddie, our dog) and see to it that we are reunited once again. And, if anything should have to happen, please help take away the fear in my heart. Amen.
Not only do I think that pretty much covers everything, but it makes me feel slightly less selfish that I wish everyone else to be safe and reunited with their loved ones. Nice touch, right?
I also used to subscribe to the notion that God wouldn't allow a plane to crash if it had children on board. I have unsubscribed to this notion because 1) I know that isn't true, and 2) on my 21st birthday I was forced to delete this rule when I took a Reno Funjet flight with a bunch of old people to go gambling with family. Even still, I do find it slightly comforting when there are a lot of children on board - but only if they are not crying, whining, kicking my chair, or sitting anywhere near me.
When booking a flight, I have this weird criteria and checklist that runs through my brain. Alaska? No, I can't fly Alaska because they had that one plane crash over the Pacific Ocean. You know, the one where the plane would take these extremely long nose dives, then miraculously recover, and then nosedive, then recover...well, you know how that ended. Splash.
Definitely can't fly American. American has had numerous crashes including the 2001 crash in New York City. So, maybe I can take American, but only if I'm flying on the West Coast. As far as I know, American Airlines has never crashed on the West Coast.
Believe me, this inner dialogue goes on and on. I know, it's pretty sick.
Once I have committed to flying, and I actually board the plane, there are a few circumstances that force me to consider the fetal position. Here is a short list:
- Take offs, descents, and landings. These are the most critical times during a flight.
- Banking. I really hate banking. I think a few flights have crashed because of banking too hard.
- Announcing altitude. Why? I absolutely do NOT want to know how high we are. The pilot is sick if he thinks it is comforting to know that a ten ton capsule filled with people is hovering at 36,000 feet in the sky.
- Illuminating the seat belt sign because it is too unsafe to unbuckle, go to the bathroom, or be in the upright position. If any of those things are unsafe, then get me out of here!
- Turbulence. Period. I did not pay for a carnival ride. I would prefer my flight be as smooth as a baby's butt.
- Safety instructions of any kind, especially when we are flying over miles and miles of dry land. Do not tell me how my seat can be used as a floatation device. I'm pretty sure that is not going to help me if we crash land in the desert.
The pilot came over the intercom and said "Hey, we're losing oil pressure in one of the engines," which I couldn't understand why he did, because he could have just turned around and said, "Hey, we're losing oil pressure." Everyone else started freaking out, but I had been drinking since lunchtime, so I was like "Take it down! I don't care! Make sure you hit something hard, 'cause I don't want to limp away from this!" The guy next to me is *losing his mind*. I guess he must have had something to "live for". He says, "Hey man, if one of the engines goes out, how far will the other one take us?" I look at him. "All the way to the scene of the crash! Which is pretty lucky, because that's where we're headed! I bet we beat the paramedics by a good half hour! We're haulin' ass!"
My special cocktail must make me feel like I have "a lot less to live for" - which apparently is good when I'm flying! I am currently sitting in sunny Florida, having survived three flights to get here. Yay! Unfortunately for me, I have another three I have to survive on Wednesday to get back home. Don't worry, I have adequately rationed my Xanax and Ambien (thanks, November!) and I'll be sure to save at least $20 bucks in my pocket so I can partake in two over-priced pre-flight aperitifs.
Wish me luck. I hope to see you all again someday. Preferably on land and not at the scene of the crash :)
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