One Flew Over

Last night I flew to Barcelona. I had some tranquilizers with me (my fear of flying is übercrazy) but had no need of them as a young man by the name of Julian came to my aid. Julian, a tattoo artist with tattoos from neck to foot, was sitting next to me. He held my hand all through take-off, and talked to me the entire flight. He was successful in banishing my irrational fears only in that he prevented me from bursting into the usual tears and becoming hysterical.

My fear of flying is surpassed only by... nothing! Having flown all over the world several times, I have now developed such terror of flying that I swore 4 years ago, when I last stepped out of a plane, that I will never subject myself to such idiocy again. This business trip is partially to prove to myself that I can fly, I must fly and I will fly.



This fear of flying started at the beginning of 1997, with a relatively small plane in a snowstorm from Nice to Frankfurt. Before that, I had flown all over Europe, to Africa, Singapore and even Australia with narry a problem. So it took just one short flight in bad conditions to cause the problem I have been living with for the last 14 years.

Unfortunately, 1997 was the year that heralded the start of my long-haul business trips. Every few weeks I was required to fly to Japan, Taiwan, Korea, Thailand. I solved this by mentioning my fear of flying as soon as I borded the plane. "Hi, I'm crazy. Can I fly in the cockpit?"

Indeed, most flight attendants immediately had a quick word with the pilot and I was popped into that little pull-down seat in the cockpit, happy to relinquish the luxury of my business class seat and personal video machine and watch that they pressed all the right buttons and pulled all the right knobs. Some pilots made a point of explaining every step of the way to me, others tried to make me learn checklists. Some made a point of reading the paper and putting the plane on auto-pilot - to make me worried, I think.

On a trip from Japan to Korea, United Airlines did not put me in the cockpit but had a better idea. After suggesting I drink a beer (which I eagerly acquiesed to) they told me I could help out in the kitchen. The plane was a double-decker, and I handed out the nuts to all the passengers and carried the meal trays up between the er... ground and first floors.

This worked out to be such an excellent distraction that I tried it out again in 1999 on a flight to Athens after I had received a sneer from the flight attendant in answer to my request to sit in the cockpit. (Maybe they had thought I wanted to drive the plane). I hadn't known what a sneer was before this, but if you are wondering yourself, I can tell you that it is a nasty laugh accompanied by a catty comment. Anyway, I then attempted the nuts and food-tray number, offering my services as a humble bus-girl.

"If you want to work for this airline", the flight attendant told me. "You should apply for a job like everyone else".

After September 2001 of course, no-one was allowed to fly in the cockpit except the pilot haha. I flew two days after 9/11 and found that out right away. In fact I caused a huge stir on the plane. Having announced my desire to enter the cockpit and complaining when it was denied, the captain himself was informed and marched down the entire length of the plane to confront me in front of all the other passengers. He was very polite, of course, and charming, as pilots are wont to be.

"I had to check out myself that you weren't a terrorist", he told me. Of course, you can see that just by looking at me! I don't have a beard and I wear orange nail varnish. Terrorists wouldn't be bothered about nail varnish if they are on a suicide mission. It's only logical.

So now, I just have to grit my teeth and get on with it. I do so hope there will be another Julian on the flight home.