Aviophobia (fear of flying), Part 5

By Jack Brummet, Aeronautics and Travel Ed.


I'll never love flying.  But it seems to get me where I want to go and I've learned to live with it. I've gone in the last five years from being completely terrified, and needing to be knocked out like BJ Barackus, to barely ambulatory/seriously medicated walking down the jetway, to mostly OK with it. All those trips across the country and Europe I made for work a couple years ago (75 flights in one year alone), along with our own travels to Mexico, Europe and Asia, somehow have made it, at least tolerable.   On our recent trip to South America, between coming and going, and doing a couple of in-country flights, we were on nine flights.  That would formerly have left me as a basket case for the entire trip, not only for the actual flights, but the anticipation of them...

I still take a Zanax, but I am no longer really a white knuckle flyer.  I'm still sometimes feel as crazy as a latrine rat on flights, but somehow I've managed to modulate it.

In fact, I've actually come to love both taking off and landing (especially landing), which are, of course, two of the most dangerous things you do while flying.  I've even come to liking it when those white stripes (the takeoff zone) pop up as we turn onto the main runway. . .

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Three photgraphs of uncontrolled landings

Flying can sometimes be better
Than not flying.

Three examples:

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Another pathetic travel day

Jack writing in from Austin, Texas. Getting here was not easy. . .There were thunder storms all over the tri state area, hundreds of planes were cancelled, and the ones that weren't were stacked up waiting to land and take off.

My plane from Boston was two hours late, and I was about to miss my connection in Newark. So, our assistant in Seattle rigged up a plan where I would wait at the airport until 9:30 (my original plane was at 5:30), grab a plane to Cleveland that would take me to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where I would wait two hours and hop on a plane to Dallas and then another plane to Austin and arrive in the morning around 10:30. But at the last minute they found a seat on another plane heading to Newark, and I made my connection--because it was two hours late. And I finally arrived in Austin at 1:30.

Of course, I was too wired to go to bed, so I walked over the warehouse district and had a beer. And now I am back in another grim corporate hotel. Hoping to sleep five hours. But all that aside. . .it doesn't matter, because I am here in one of my favorite cities in the world, albeit for about 36 hours. I am going out for music tomorrow night. About which, see the next post. And this one was supposed to be about hobo drawings...so let's get started!

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