Revolutions don’t scare me. Airplanes do.
I can date my fear of flying to a rough landing in 1983. Ever since then I’ve avoided airplanes whenever possible. On those rare occasions when it is not possible, I get by with self-medication. A drink in the airport bar and two more on the plane is sufficient to get me from one coast to the other.
But our journey this time involves 5 separate flights over 27 hours. Not to mention that the director of the school will be picking us up at the airport, so I have to be mindful of my condition on arrival. We don’t want to make a poor first impression.
My good friend and fellow book-clubber Jenni used to suffer the same phobia until she cured herself with Qantas airlines’ Fearless Flier’s Handbook. As you might expect, the idea of a book solution appealed to me. So I checked a copy out of the library. The thing is, I was afraid to open it. I kept it for two months before returning it unread. Jenni and I are in agreement that library fines support a worthy cause.
Finally I decided to see the doctor. She laughed and made some jokes about flying. I criticized her bedside manner. She gave me a prescription for 30 pills. Apparently she expects me to start flying a lot. I asked why so many, and she said she wanted to make sure I could get back home.
Between the drugs and the travel angel pin my buddies gave me yesterday for a going away present, I think I’ve got it covered.