Posted by Party Spanner
I am frightened of flying. Well, to be more accurate, I am frightened of the fear of crashing.
Let me explain what I mean. I am scared of that inevitable knowledge that I, and the people I love, are going to die.
Hmm, that still doesn’t make much sense.
I am scared (that should I be on a plane which is crashing) that I would know that the plane was crashing, and I would know that we are all going to die, and the terror of that moment seems incomprehensibly huge to me, and so that is what I mean by “I have a fear of flying”
So, I have to do quite a lot of
alcohol distraction of my brain, and this usually means listening to comedy on my i-pod or reading the inflight magazine (which, by the way, is always SHIT). I also have to sit by the window. This always comes as a surprise to fellow Aviophobics. (Which is, according to this site, the proper name for my fear – incidentally there are some amazing phobias on that list, you could waste away a good couple of hours looking at them and wondering how someone could suffer from Deipnophobia, the Fear of Dinner Conversations – although I suppose the answer in that lies to how racist/homophobic/generally objectionable your guests are)
On the last flight I took, however, we were travelling in a wardrobe with wings.
I didn’t get a chance to grab my i-pod or a book before the hand luggage was stowed in the overhead compartments and the inflight magazine was actually missing and was replaced with one of those TERRORSHEETS which has cutesy cartoons of hapless passengers “bracing” (kissing their arses goodbye) and taking fun slides down a bouncy castle into the icy cold, shark infested waters of the uncaring ocean. This flight also had to make a re-fueling stop – which meant TWO take offs and TWO landings, and I read somewhere that take off is when the plane is at it’s most vulnerable, and I know I shouldn’t read this sort of stuff, but I do and also if you, dear reader, are frightened of flying I have also put this thought into your head, and for that…I am deeply sorry. *breathes into paper bag*
This was also the flight where alcohol just made me feel “bleurgh”, rather than slightly more “I don’t give a small shit”. I expect you’re wondering how I manage to get alcohol on board in a drinkable form..ah well. The answer lies in the duty free shop vodka combined with a bottle of orange juice from WH Smith, a trip to the ladies, and some unseemly “I AM NOT TAKING DRUGS IN HERE MERELY POURING VODKA INTO AN ORANGE JUICE CONTAINER” encounters with cleaning personnel.
So, I sat, in an unwilling yoga type position with no way to distract my ever-chatting-dire-consequences brain. I did have my camera stuffed into my pocket, so I decided to take some pictures.
and my favourite..
After the flight lands and we’re all safe, there looms on the horizon my second biggest fear – CustomQueueOPhobia (the fear – often realised – of a bloody ginormous queue of
sheep robots people holding passports and looking pissed off) and that is shortly followed by ConveyorPhobia (The fear that your suitcase will not appear on the luggage carousel forcing you to make a claim at the “Baggage Lost” booth. I’ve been there. I’ve had the fear realised. I lost a bag that contained my GHD’s and all of my make-up, bar the lipstick I had smuggled onto the flight. I cried like an orphan. An orphan who hasn’t even got a SHOE. not one single shoe.)
I’ve realised while writing this post that my aviophobia is actually nothing but the old cliche of ”nothing to fear, but fear itself”
Still…flying? We’re not meant to be UP THERE FFS, also…YEAH! I’m scared of fear you stupid bastard. Fear is scary.
Posted by Party Spanner
I’m off on holidaybobs on Thursday, so this week has been mainly taken up with obsessional knicker counting and decanting large bottles of shampoo into slightly smaller bottles.
I despise packing with a fiery passion. It combines many of my least favourite things: laundry, ironing, organisation, lists, folding, rolling and squishing.
I also hate flying and have a small internal voice which squawks ‘it doesn’t matter if you don’t pack enough swimwear because WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!’ I believe this voice knows something I don’t, so usually, about half an hour into the fold, roll, squish part of the packing I give up and throw everything, higgeldy-piggedly into the case while sobbing.
After all ‘We will hurtle towards the ground at 700 miles per hour and while this happens you will look back on this packing futility with fondness’
So. No blogging from me for a while. Because according to my internal voice ‘you remember that bit in Castaway when Tom Hanks goes into the airplane toilet and looks at the plaster and then they crash? That’s YOU that is’