Fear of Flying

For a number of years it was necessary for me to travel extensively for work. In one year alone I was on the road--so to speak --for 201 days. As you might imagine a lot of that time was spent flying from one place to another and I can say without equivocation that I never once felt afraid. I did experience a few bumpy rides, and more than my fair share of delays and bad weather. I even spent a night sleeping in an airport when no hotel rooms were available. Discomfort, to be sure but no fear at all. But it was years ago and since then I have assiduously avoided unnecessary travel by air.

A recent trip changed that but not for the reasons you might assume. It all began when I was trying to find flights on the days I needed to travel and at times of the day that would coincide with others coming from a different part of the country. Choices--well I had many, almost too many and yet none of them were in any way what one might call convenient. Now to be fair I live in what the airlines consider a cul de sac. Nothing is direct unless it happens to be a hub city like Charlotte or Chicago. As a result a 3 hour trip takes no less than 5 with layovers if you can actually find one that short, and if you do it will cost at least twice any other. I've tried to get all my relatives and even distant acquaintances to move to one of these hub cities but they keep ignoring my suggestions.

Having found an inconvenient flight but one which I could settle for was only the beginning of my ordeal. Before I could actually book the reservation I was presented with screen after screen offering me 'options' that once were included in the price of the ticket. Did I want a seat? Well no fool I. I wasn't prepared to stand all the way so I looked for any seat that might not be directly opposite the lavatory only to find that all available seats were taken except those that required an up-charge. Next came baggage fees. As I intended to carry my bag with me I escaped that as well as the seat upgrade, the cancellation fee, the early boarding fee and the optional fee for adding additional reward miles. 15 minutes later I forked over the airfare, secured a loan against my home to pay for it and was all set to go.

So, imagine 7-9 hours of travel with less spent in the air than on the ground moving from one terminal to another past a dizzying array of fast food kiosks, news stands filled with the latest mind candy, and shops selling souvenirs, golf clothing and jewelry. Apparently golf clothing is what well dressed American men wear except of course on a plane where formal attire consists of ball caps, cargo shorts, polo shirts emblazoned with cryptic corporate logos with indecipherable names and sneakers with 2" white marshmallow soles.

In order to keep to my schedule and budget I opted for a flight leaving in the wee hours of the morning when rational people are fast asleep and having ordered my Uber in advance I stumbled into my car and froze in a bone chilling blast of AC for the 20 minute ride to the airport. Teeth still chattering I wheeled my airline approved miniature carry on to a football field length line snaking its way to the TSA pre check and after being scrutinized like an escaped convict I was allowed to deposit my belongings and most of my clothing on the conveyor belt and proceed through an apparatus that had me hands up in the air while I was scanned for measles, mumps and contraband.

Having passed with flying colors I reassembled my wardrobe and began the 40 mile hike to my gate. In a vain effort to restore my body temperature and try to awaken my sleep deprived brain I stopped along the way at the 20 mile mark for a refreshing burnt coffee from a familiar national chain. The two chatty Baristas serving the 1,110 people in line ahead of me were so friendly that each order took quite a good deal of time so that when I was finally served I had barely enough time to sprint the last few miles to my gate. I needn't have rushed. I was after all in boarding group 27.

Half an hour later I was all set--all I had to do was perp walk the length of the aircraft to my seat in steerage, squeeze my bag between a double bass and 6 foot duffel bag that took up the only available luggage space, excuse myself to the two passengers already seated in my row and before you know it we were off, taxiing to our destination. Total flying time, 45 minutes, total time on the ground before and after 1 hour 25 minutes.

Compared to boarding, deplaning was a breeze. I was only clobbered in the head twice by passengers removing their bags from overhead bins and slapped in the face once by a woman wearing a backpack that I swear held the contents of a small village. I emerged into the noise and chaos of the terminal in just enough time to run like a bat out of hell for my next flight two terminals away.

As a result of this trip I am now afraid to fly. Bus, canoe, bicycle all seem a far safer and saner alternative. After all, its not the destination that matters but the journey.