by Jenni Summers

Created on: February 26, 2007   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Fear of Flying'

Fear of Flying. One of your better class of phobias. Being afraid to fly implies you have somewhere to be'. You are important.
There are people who want to see you; friends who will meet you; an important business conference to attend. Fear of Flying carries with it, therefore, a certain social standing.

So there is always dignity involved, even when you're crawling along the floor of the aircraft in your best suit, white knuckles locked in a vice-like grip around a flight attendant's ankle, and screaming, "I want my teddy bear!'

Still there's always a nice sense of occasion about going to the airport. You can pick someone up from the train station, or the bus stop, and no one bats an eyelid.

Rock up to the office water cooler and casually announce, "I've got to pick up a friend from the airport.", and suddenly it's an event'.
You get to leave work early, or take a two hour lunch, or not do the filing, because you've "got to get to the airport." See how great that sounds?

Why is it that the first thing anyone asks when you walk through the arrival lounge is, "How was your flight?"

You can't exactly reply, "I thought I was going to die. Did you get that memo off to head office?"

What do they mean, HOW WAS YOUR FLIGHT'?
"Good thanks, the plane went up, went along for a bit and then came back down."

Can anyone explain why some people pretend to be reading the Fin Review in that gut-wrenching moment when the Jumbo engines kick into psycho-drive?
I know these corporate mavericks aren't really taking in the Dow Jones, because there is no way you can read the share market index while your insides are being rearranged.
Real high flyers are the ones who claw the stuffing out of the arm rests or take notes while the flight attendants demonstrate the emergency drill. I usually miss that part because I prefer to assume the full crash position during baggage check-in. You never can tell.

Anxiety kicks in during seat allocation.
So many choices, so many ways to die. Over the wing? That way you can see the bolts fly loose. Next to the door? If the plane snaps in half you're going to have all the leg room you want.

And those curtains that separate you from the cockpit? It's so you can't see the steward flick to auto-pilot when the Captain chokes on a Shortbread Cream or loses a contact lense.
Actually, it is a little-known fact, but this whole automatic pilot thing is a scam. It doesn't exist.
You know those times when the Captain comes strolling down the aisle of Economy?

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