fear of flying accessories

I once had a colleague who suffered from a strong fear of flying.  At work Ms F would regale us with her experience of taking to the air.  Despite the seriousness of the topic, she had us collapsing with laughter, probably connected with her Belfast accent.  Examples that spring to mind a decade later are the time when she boarded a plane, only to mention to the stewardess that the wing 'looked a bit dodgy'.  And there was the time when she flew back from New Zealand, both arms raised in order to keep the plane up.  When flying, Ms F would sit in a puddle of sweat, prompting the cabin staff to enquire if she was ill.

Eventually, Ms F embarked on a 'Fear of Flying' course.  The pilot had brought his family along to the practical session of the course, just to prove that arriving safely was as important to him as to the participants.  All was going well until Ms F had the opportunity to visit the cockpit.  This she did and as she was examining the dials, she had a terrible thought: what if she fainted, landed on the controls and the plane did a nose dive?



I have friends who will stuff themselves with beta blockers or anxiolytics before flying and still throw up in the loo prior to boarding.  And I know those who simply will not fly.

My fear of flying began when my son was an infant.  Until then I'd found it exhilarating, opting for the window seat, pulsing with excitement as the plane gathered speed on the runway before soaring into the sky.   Then J arrived and things changed.  Suddenly planes were things which might get us safely from A to B, but just as likely might not.

When we flew from Memphis to San Francisco, the captain announced that there'd be some turbulence as it was necessary to circumnavigate a thunderstorm.  And thus my fear escalated.  When we reached SF, my left side ached.  For many years I didn't fly.  Then I started to again, amid much trepidation.  The announcement of expected turbulence was enough to make me break out in a sweat.  As for any noises I wasn't familiar with, these were stressful.

Needless to say, I also worry about my family flying. My partner travels frequently for work. Seemingly we are no longer content to check whether the flight we're observing has landed or been delayed on take off, (at one point it was a question of waiting for a text, and before that, a call to our landline), we want to know exactly where the plane is on the Atlantic or North Asia.  In general, this can be fascinating where the map of Canada or America appears to be crawling with little objects.  There is a downside, nevertheless, for those such as myself who combine being technologically challenged with more than a modicum of anxiety.

One evening, my son (thrilled by all aspects of flying) and I were tracking his father's plane.  We watched as it circled around Turnhouse and land.  The airport website recorded it as having landed.  Phew!  I thought.  But the plane icon continued moving east, at which pointed I panicked.  Perhaps the undercarriage had stuck, perhaps the plane had been hijacked at the last moment.  Perhaps the website updated its flight information before the plane actually touched ground.  Needless to say, the plane icon eventually stopped moving.  The plane had arrived.  I could laugh at myself, dealt out more than my fair share of genes for anxiety.

Jane