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| I was on this plane, crying in the bathroom |
Now, usually when people say that they don't like to travel on airplanes, the first thought is to assume that they are afraid of flying. And of course the natural reaction is for friends, loved ones, and total strangers at the terminal to offer statistics about plane crashes, give rudimentary physics lessons detailing the unlikelihood of a plane crash, and give away a few of their "Magic Night-Night Pills".
I don't really think that's fair. There is a multitude of reasons to despise flight, and that multitude transcends irrational fears and superstitions. For those that fly often, and without trouble, it can be hard to empathize with those who struggle with serious flight issues. Issues like motion sickness, claustrophobia, pressure headaches, not having your puppy with you, severe Eustachian Tube Dysfunction (really plugged up ears), and, last but not least, mild Eustachian Tube Dysfunction (kind of plugged up ears).
I'm not claustrophobic and I don't have a puppy, but I would gladly take claustrophobia (and an adorable little puppy) over motion sickness. Because at least then I would have some dignity. But as it stands now, I have three options on a turbulent flight: puke in a bag at my seat, disobey the seat-belt sign and angry flight attendants to puke in a tiny, dark bathroom; or, if I'm lucky, make it to the airport without puking, think I'm fine, realize I'm not, and puke in a slightly less tiny, slightly better-lit bathroom.
And that's not even the least dignified flight issue I have. My real issue is that at high altitudes, my ears cannot adjust to the pressure difference, and I am left with extreme pressure build-ups and pain in my ears (severe Eustachian Tube Dysfunction). This is worse than nausea, because it leaves me incapacitated in my seat, clutching my head like a crazy person. Now, if you're a child on an airplane, and you're holding your ears tight as though you expect your head to explode, it's understandable. But when you've got a high school diploma on your wall back at home, it becomes hard to explain to your fellow passengers. Especially through all the tears.
But all of that being said, I am almost twenty years old, and I am, in fact, afraid of flying.
I will admit to that, and I will admit that the fear is irrational. But I will try to explain it anyway.
Normally, I would enlist my best pal, Microsoft Powerpoint, to assist me in this explanation, but sadly he was busy not being installed on my computer. So I will instead take advantage of the visual aid...skills...of my other friend...a really great program, super helpful at everything...beautiful illustrations...Microsoft...Paint.
Right. Hi Paint. How are the kids?
Oh dear lord. Okay, where was I? Ah yes, flying.
Now, I know you guys already have your "Physics For Dummies" books out and you're ready to sit me down and teach me the basics of flight, the principles of lift, and push your glasses back up your nose as you assure me that air travel is perfectly safe. I get that. My brain knows that. That's not the problem. The problem is that my eyes don't know that.
Let me explain what I mean. My brain knows how a plane is able to stay in the air. My brain knows that, in virtually all situations that are not takeoff and landing, there is literally nothing within a five million foot radius for the plane to crash into. So those aren't things that scare me.
My brain knows other things. My brain knows that a plane lives and dies by its wings. Because really, as long as a plane:
A) has its wings, and
B) hasn't been snapped in half by Megashark,
then the worst thing a 747 can do is turn into a glider. A $20 million glider to be exact. But if something happens to the wings...
Okay Paint, you're fired.
Tough. If the wings go.....well, I guess Paint was right in that situation. He was still a jerk though.
ANYWAY, my brain has this vital knowledge, that the wings MUST stay intact for the plane to succeed as a plane. Luckily, it also knows that if there's some turbulence, the wings will bounce up and down, a LITTLE bit.
MY EYES MISSED THAT MEMO.
So when I'm sitting there in my window seat, Eyes see the wings start to bounce a little more than usual and they naturally proceed to FREAK OUT. They send panic signals to Brain, along with questions, but Brain can't answer them because he's preoccupied with the pain from my Eustachian Tube Dysfunction. So Heart hears all this racket, decides it's go time, and starts beating faster than Chest can handle. Next thing you know, I've entered full-on panic mode.
This is the part where you ask, "Mike, why don't you just shut the window?" Because, you idiot, what if something bad really does happen to the wing? Then it would be my action-hero duty to storm up to the cockpit, bang on the door, inform the pilot, save the day, and start scheduling my book deals and dinners with Barack. This is also the part where a rationalist would casually inform me that the best thing to do is to remind myself that airplanes are statistically the safest way to travel, and that just because it looks like something bad is happening, doesn't mean there is any actual danger.
But how am I supposed to convince myself that more bad things aren't going to happen when so many already have? That's like trying to convince yourself that zombies aren't real as your best friend Dave stands in front of you eating brain-on-a-stick.
That's the kicker. The reason I hate flying. The reason I get terrified. Because when all those issues I mentioned earlier, the ETD, the headaches, the puppy lacking...when all of those things take me out of my element, all it takes is a little spark of fear to put me in my panic shoes. All while I'm stuck in a box that until we either land...
...or are eaten by Megashark.
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| It's an actual movie guys, I hope some of you already knew that. |
