Facing My Greatest Fear: Flying in an Airplane (Yes, I Did :-))

I've been afraid of airplanes ever since I can remember.  I flew to Florida once when I was a little kid, and the trip back to Boston was rough--turbulence-ridden, and the pilot thought he was being funny by referring to himself as "Bud Weiser" as he pretended to crash into Boston Harbor.

Yeah, my parents decided that it was easier to load three children into a station wagon and drive three days for subsequent trips to the Sunshine State.  It was easier than trying to force me onto an airplane.

Just to give you some idea ...

So I have flatly refused to fly throughout my life.  I missed out on a high school exchange program in Australia, spring break in Mexico, lots of visits, not seeing family members that I should have seen, one of Belle's modeling events (thank you, Mom and Addie, for bringing her), and so on and so forth.

I've gotten close a couple of times.  My mother bought me a ticket to go to Florida with her, but I'd had recent surgery and was concerned about that (the details would probably make it clearer as to why it was an area of concern, but I'm not going there).  I called the doctor about anxiety medication for flying, and he happily gave me some ... but I was so anxious about flying in the days leading up to flying that I took all of the anxiety medication before it was the day we were supposed to leave.

And then last weekend my sister needed me.

Evidently, being a big sister trumps lifelong fears.  Who knew?

I think part of why I was finally able to pull it off was because it came up so quickly.  I only had a day to be anxious, nauseous, petrified, and so on.  Mainly, though, my sister's need was significantly more ... well, significant than my being a baby over something people do every single day.

Addie (who has been to Europe twice, never mind all the flying she's done in the U.S.) walked me through the entire process step by step, telling me what I had to take out of my bags during the security check, comparing landing to being in a car that slams on its brakes, and so on.  It was a huge help :-)

Addie opined that the security check is the worst part of flying, my mother felt that when they drop the wheels just before landing is (yeah, I was sort of polling people), but the worst part for me is sitting on the airplane waiting for it to take off.

Thank God for Valium and Stephen King books you've read so many times they're like old friends ...

Anyway, the flight down was fine.  A single mother and her 18-month-old asked if they could sit with me (Southwest Airlines has kind of a "cattle call" seating deal ... it's unofficial tagline is "When you can't afford anything else ..."), and that turned out to be a good thing.  I was pretty sure I would not totally lose it in front of a little kid, and I was right.

So I spent the weekend in Baltimore (lowlighted by the fact that I put my wallet on the back of a car then drove off with it), and that was all good.

The flight home, though ...

I should probably mention at this point that I have three serious fears--flying, thunderstorms, and snakes.

Well, there was a thunderstorm shaking its fist at Baltimore as my sister drove me to the airport.  In fact, there were severe thunderstorms up and down the entire eastern seaboard, to the degree that my flight was delayed.

So, yeah, the flight home was more like I'd pictured flying to be in my nightmares.  It was dark outside, you could see lightning all around, and it was bumpy and scary and not fun.  I took extra Valium.

And then, when I finally landed, Henry was late picking me up so I was very grouchy to him.

It's a male/female thing, I think.

He knew what time I left at since I texted him just before we took off, and he's also one of those ridiculous techies that has an app for everything.  I figured he'd be flight tracking me and would be waiting when I deplaned.  Probably with flowers.  At the very least, he'd be at the cell phone lot, reading a book.

Nope, he hadn't left his house yet.  So I had to wait for him to get there after being on the flight from hell, then lightning started flashing in the sky, and ...

Well, he spent this past weekend on a mini-vacation to Bangor, Maine with me, so I assume he's forgiven me, but I was pretty unpleasant.

Anyway, people keep asking me if I'd fly again.  The answer, by the way, is yes.  I'd still dope myself up pretty well and probably be on a hair trigger, but I would.  There is just so much to see and do, and I could Gibbs-smack myself for missing out on so much.

I've also learned from numerous unimpeachable sources that the flight home is by far the exception rather than the rule.

So, yeah, I faced my greatest fear, and the irony is that it took my sister being in distress to make me do it, which makes me feel like kind of a jerk.

But then I got thinking about it ... two years ago, I think I would have taken a train or driven to Baltimore.  I would be there if she needed me, but it would be on my terms because flying was just ... well, just too much.

And I've gotten a lot better about thunderstorms, too, in large part because my golden retriever is even more scared than I am, so trying to comfort her makes me less afraid.

Snakes?  Dear God!  I don't think I'll ever get over that one ;-)

So what are you most afraid of?  Have you ever overcome major fears?  How did you accomplish that?  

And here is a pic of Mary and my nephew Eddie, just so you can see how amazing my family is and why I had to go <3 nbsp="nbsp" p="p">

Traumatized by a Nutjob in a Parking Lot

You know how sometimes the things that make you unspeakably happy, terrified beyond belief, and so angry that you don't know what to do are often lost in translation when you try to explain them? I suspect that this is going to be one of those times. It's coming off sounding stupid and maybe even a little funny when I write it down, but I will never forget how upset I was yesterday.

Okay, so I went to the grocery store yesterday afternoon to get peaches (I had a craving) and Swedish fish (because Addie had a craving). I pulled into the parking lot and noticed that it was crowded. Very crowded. It's been my observation that people (myself included) tend to drive like idiots in a parking lot, so I was automatically paying close attention.

Grocery store parking lots theoretically follow the rules of the road--namely, you're on the right side of the road, you use your blinker to let your intentions known, and so on.

I was driving down the last parking section (I'm telling you--ridiculously busy) when I passed a spot on my right that I didn't notice until I was just past it ... and there was a truck coming the other way that had his blinker on. I assumed he was going for the spot I'd driven by, so I put my left blinker on and pulled into the empty slot at the end of the row of cars.

And looked into my rearview mirror to see the truck almost hit me. Evidently his blinker was supposed to serve as fair warning that he was planning on reversing into the parking spot I pulled into ... and I guess I should have had ESP to figure that out since it was his LEFT blinker and there was an open parking spot on his LEFT as I drove past him.

It scared me a little bit, but I was like, "Eh, whatever." I mean, if I got all worked up every time there was a near fender bender in the grocery store parking lot, I'd be pretty strung out.

So I'm sitting in my car replying to an e-mail I'd gotten on my BlackBerry when all of a sudden there was this pounding on the window of my car. Like, "could-have-broken-the-glass" level pounding.

I opened my window to hear this guy scream in my face (with a spit shower, which made it somehow worse), "Didn't you see me backing up? You almost hit me!"

I was shaking and scared. "No, sir, I saw you going straight that way, and I was going straight this way, so I--"

"You stupid fucking bitch!" he roared, then marched off.

And I just went to pieces. I sat in my car and cried for probably ten minutes, then I went to a different grocery store and got a peach and candy bars for my kids (since they didn't have Swedish fish). Andy called, and I let it ring because I was so unbelievably shaken up.

The thing is, if he had came up, knocked gently on my window, and said, "You know, could you try to be a little more careful next time?", I would have been okay with it. I would have disagreed with his evident impression that every driver in America has to follow a "Yield to Blue GMC pick-up, New Hampshire license plate #147 84-- because he is the king of the road" clause that I never learned about in driver's ed, but I would have just nodded, smiled, and apologized, because that's how I roll.

I hate confrontation, and I especially hate that I can think of a million things I could have done differently after the incident was over. I should have gone into the store and talked to a manager. I should have called the police. I should have made some sarcastic, cutting remark about the clause that should clearly be taught in driver's ed.

But instead I cried like a baby.

The reasons that this affected me so viscerally:

1. The man was 10-15 years older than I am. I am still young enough (heh) that I have a certain amount of automatic respect for "my elders". The idea that someone in an age demographic that has my respect just for being in that age demographic would consider my respect so cheaply just ... traumatized me. And if I were a different kind of person, it might make me reconsider that respect that prior to this I gave 100% freely. I'm me, so of course this won't happen, but it sort of made me realize why so many people in the world are bitter, suspicious, and negative.

2. I am neither stupid nor a bitch. I know what my I.Q. is (it's in the "superior range"), I have a graduate degree, and I am a teacher. I am also in general a kind, giving, self-sacrificing person (I have my faults, but those things really are true). What right did he have to insult me using such inflammatory (and, in my case, blatantly false) words? It just made me feel like vomiting.

3. Angry, violent men turn me to Jello. I spent much of my childhood scared to death of my father's anger--just to give one example, the window of our oven was broken for quite some time because my dad got so mad that he slammed the oven door. I lived in fear of slammings, bangs, and crashes when I was a kid (the fact that I've ended up with far too many violent, angry men of my own volition is kind of a warped irony, I suppose). Anyway, that fist pounding on my window was like a time machine, and I was suddenly three years old again.

Again, I know that the true horror this was for me is cheapened by words. Sometimes this is the case ... several years ago, my brother, sister, brother-in-law, and I jumped off a moving train (yes, a real train). It's a hell of a story and I usually end up telling it to my students at one point or another (usually when I'm having them write about peer pressure) and they think it's just hysterically funny. However, I've tried to write it down probably a dozen times or so, and it just doesn't work as a written chronicle (or maybe I'm not a good enough writer, I don't know ;-)).

Anyway, that's a really weak retelling of what was probably in the top five in terms of traumatic events in my life.

I will never, ever forget it.

A Scared Puppy Punishing Herself :(

My thunderstorm phobia is fairly well-known. My dog Mollie's, however, is a new thing. We had a bad storm tonight, and she hid in the laundry room. I could go on (about how she peed on Addie's shoes and such), but a picture is worth a thousand words.