Get me off this plane!

I have a fear of flying. There. I said it. Air travel wraps me in a cocoon of horror. Everything from the ticket kiosk to my in-flight meal scares me. The worst part—the part where my armpits sweat and a lump builds in my throat like I swallowed a Nerf football—is take-off. My body is thrust backwards into the blue vinyl seat, the airplane gains altitude and only one thing crosses my mind: Am I going to die? I act out the usual near-death rites; square up with God, tell my wife and kids I love them one last time (in my head); lament that the Astros never one a title. All while repeating the mantra, “Just reach a cruising altitude and everything will be fine.”



Airlines do their best to keep me docile. The attendants are courteous. The snacks are delicious and salty. Even the windows are designed to keep me unaware of the pending dangers. How else can I achieve peace of mind climbing 500+ miles an hour, than to view hurling clouds through an 8”x12” oval? It’s a good thing the sun stays in one spot. If the window was any larger I’d realize the nylon seatbelts won’t save me from anything—gravity or aeronautical principles seemingly at work. Which leads me to believe that airplanes will never feature large windows. No one wants to visualize a steel cylinder speeding through the sky like a winged rollercoaster with beverage service. I’m paralyzed with fear, clutching my immovable arm rest.



In the car, turbulence happens when I actually run over something. That kind of turbulence is tangible. I can see it. And if you’re a defensive and conscientious driver, you try to avoid “some things” in the road. You see, air turbulence is unpredictable and invisible (even more terrifying!) With every jostle, I’m reminded of the chasm below me and my mortality. I wish there was a way to avoid rough patches in the sky, or at least mark them with some conspicuous red vapor that signals, "Danger!" I'm not an expert in aviation, but don’t pilots know there’s like at least 8000 feet of air below where they could simply just go around? They seem to gleefully plow straight through these pockets of terror!

So, is there a way to make my take-off more peaceful? I want the sky above Austin to be as still as a millpond. But what can be done? Encourage everyone to suspend breathing? Ground all flying birds? Reduce CO2 emissions? I’m on board whatever the initiative. And while I wait for airline technology and medication to rid me of spatial anxieties, I’ll be thankful I’m alive until the next fasten seat belt chime.