Please Keep Your Fears Stored in the Upright and Locked Position

Every time I enter a plane, I think “Well, today is the day I’m going to die.” I’ll say “hi” to the people sitting next to me thinking, “These are the people I am going to die with.” No matter how many statistics I read, no matter how “safe” flying is, my fear is rarely tamed once entering the plane.

Of course if others on the plane share these thoughts, which I’m sure many do, maybe to a lesser degree, we cannot discuss them while on the aircraft because this would create a consolidated ball of panic and doubt. I have been tempted many times to ask the steward/stewardess, “Excuse me, but how much experience does this pilot have?” or “have you ever been in a plane crash?” and “Is it alright if I drink this bottle of vodka before we take off?” But no. Instead, I just smile, sit politely and fly in the air thousands of feet above the ground, hoping the turbulence isn’t bad and the book I’m reading is light hearted enough to calm my nightmares of an “event of a water landing.”

What’s strange is that I have no problem living in DC, an area with one of the highest crime rates in America. I frequent Adam’s Morgan, where I have witnessed a knife fight, and hang out in neighborhoods where numerous muggings and shootings have occurred this past year. I eat Chipotle sometimes three times a week, even though I know the calories and sodium in one burrito causes my body to morph in a 5 pound burrito-digesting-war-zone. I work with dangerous chemicals in my art studio that can cause tumors. For some reason I put all of these high-risk behaviors behind me. Yet I still fear of a method of travel that is 99.999365% successful.

Maybe it’s the false sense of control I have while on land, being held on to by my invisible friend, gravity. I feel I can always be aware, look out for danger, or take further steps to be healthier…if I wanted to; it’s my choice. But I do not know how to fly planes, the fact that my seat cushion can be used as a flotation device doesn’t really create the warm fuzzy feeling I am looking for. I try not to think about the events that occur between me sitting on the plane, and then me having to attach a seat cushion to my arms in a body of water.

My coworker recently admitted to me that he is afraid to be eaten by sharks in the ocean. One of my friends is terrified of tiny bugs that invade his personal space. My eighth grade history teacher was afraid of aliens attacking the world (I wish I were kidding).

Why does reason and rationality become overruled by our feelings and anxieties? So many of us are paralyzed by fear. It has nothing to do with how smart we are, or how intelligible we have become. It seems that the more technologically advanced the nation becomes, the more free time we have on our hands, and the more time our minds have to cultivate these fears and anxieties. Sometimes our overactive imagination needs to be reigned in.

Writing about my fears today has been surprisingly therapeutic. Maybe today I’ll start worrying about my cholesterol, and use my plane rides to meditate.