I have often - half jokingly - thought (and occasionally said) that I should note my thoughts on an ongoing, stream-of-consciousness basis during a flight. Well friends, today I did it. Or, I did it as much as I could. I made these notes on my iPhone, and I'll be the first to admit that my hands were sometimes too shaky, or too busy holding my cocktail and playing Candy Crush, to note every thought that I had. But based on those notes and on my memory, here's a bit of a play-by-play of what at least one person (read: me) with flight anxiety goes through on an average flight.
 |
| Seems fine, said no one. |
We had a long wait at the gate today, as we were quite early for our flight. Nothing amazes me more at an airport than the genuine calm with which aircrew members sit around waiting for flights. I get that it's their job and they literally do it every day, but it still amazes me. Several flight attendants and pilots spent varying amounts of time waiting near us, and I couldn't stop watching as they played Candy Crush on their phones, made calls about running errands and mowing the grass once they got home, ate lunch, and joked with each other. Because for me that same time is filled with a rising panic, a building sense of doom. For me, a belief is taking hold somewhere deep down that even though I know all the things about aviation safety, etc., etc., this plane, my flight is not going to make it. And that has escalated since I had a child. People who do not have flight anxiety, let me tell you this: there is no worse feeling than believing you have purchased a ticket and potentially sent your happy, bubbly, excited toddler who somehow loves airplanes to her doom. I've been off the plane today for four hours and thinking about that feeling still brings me to tears. Without knowing what I know about aviation and that little tiny rational voice inside telling me that I'm a little bit (...maybe a lot) insane and that everything will be fine, I literally would not be able to put her on the plane. But every time we board I am still almost physically choking on the guilt and anxiety that she had no choice but to get into this metal death trap - I'm sorry, I mean airplane.
So, we board the plane. I have a superstitious ritual that I go through every time I physically walk onto an aircraft, and I'm too superstitious to reveal it here. After all, I haven't died yet, so it clearly works. Upon boarding the plane, I glance into the cockpit. Those pilots look alert. Relaxed. Well-rested. Not like people who want to die today. I respond to the flight attendants' greetings and smile. My toddler and I find our seats, where my husband is waiting and has already installed her car seat in her seat. He buckles her in and takes over entertaining her, because from now until we land, it's all I can do to keep breathing.
Today we flew out of Atlanta. And because it's Atlanta, and the weather was extra special today, we were probably 8ish planes back in line for takeoff, so we had a while to sit on the taxiway and runway, watching the rain pelt against the windows, staring at the ominous clouds, marveling at the fact that the planes in front of us continue to take off and not crash. So here, in order, are the actual thoughts I recall during our flight of just over an hour. Language not suitable for work or small children.
While sitting on the ground, I just think over and over that no one on this flight crew wants to die today. These pilots don't want to die. These flight attendants don't want to die. Air traffic control doesn't want that on their hands. They wouldn't operate this flight if conditions were that bad. They don't want to die. These pilots will be alert. They'll be paying attention. They'll do their very best. Because they don't want to die today. It's all I think. We start accelerating down the runway. The little raindrops are rushing across the windows so quickly now.
 |
| Yes, these are actually from my phone |
As soon as I feel the wheels leave the ground, I start counting to ninety. I heard a passenger interviewed after US Airways flight 1549 (more commonly, the Miracle on the Hudson) say that she heard that most aviation disasters occur within the first 90 seconds of flight, so she always counted off 90 seconds after takeoff, and then she could breathe a little easier. That day, she said, she was distracted and kept losing count. She couldn't figure out why she kept losing count. She never made it to ninety. Mind you this is based on literally nothing other than this passenger interview (though I do know that takeoff and landing are the statistically most dangerous parts of flight), but now I do that. It gives me something to do. I mouth the words, almost whispering them out loud. One, two, three, four - slowly counting. My mouth is very dry from the anti-anxiety medication that I take before flight. I think some about how dry my mouth is as I keep slowly counting with my eyes closed. I probably look seriously insane. I don't care. I get to 90, open my eyes, and look around. We're all still here.
The flight is a bit bumpy, as we're certainly trying to navigate over or around all these thunderstorms. The flight attendant comes on and makes an announcement about how the flight is equipped with Delta's in-flight WiFi. How the fuck can anyone want WiFi?!...I almost say out loud. We're hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour to our almost certain doom, and you want WiFi??
As I finally start to feel the maximum effect of the anti-anxiety medication, I think to myself that there is definitely a fine art to timing these medications. I should have taken the second one about 15 minutes earlier than I did. It is questionable whether I should drive after this flight.
More bumps. "Light chop," my ass! I'd hate to be on a flight where they said, "we've really hit some rough air here" based on what passes for "light chop." I wish I had some radar equipment like at my seat. Or a very, very patient pilot sitting next to me who could literally narrate the entire flight, including all this "light chop." My husband does not count. Much as he insists he knows about aviation, he is not a pilot. He is also usually asleep. What the actual fuck is up with that? Once I was on a flight - I believe operated by the short-lived Delta subsidiary Song - where the pilot actually did come over the intercom literally every time we hit any turbulence and explain what it was and why it was no cause for alarm. It was probably annoying as hell to well over 95% of the people on board, but it was a dream come true for me.
Whenever I'm on a plane, I know exactly how many rows forward and back it is to all the nearest exits. Now I'm counting how many rows it is until the drink cart reaches me. It's 5, by the way. Five more rows until the vodka arrives. In case you were wondering, it's 2 rows forward and 3 or 8 rows back to the exits. Now 4 until the drink cart.
There is so much Candy Crush being played on this plane. On our last flight two days ago when I went to the restroom, one of the flight attendants was strapped into her seat in the ridiculously noisy rear of the aircraft just calmly playing Candy Crush. Now I'm looking around and can see at least 3 other passengers playing. And I'm playing. This amuses me slightly for some reason.
We're seated pretty far back on this plane due to my strategic seat picking. I once watched a Discovery Channel documentary where they actually crashed some retired commercial airliners with dummies on board to test crash survival odds and whatnot. And they concluded that over the wings and the tail are the most structurally sound parts of the plane. I hate sitting all the way in the back, so I always try to pick seats over/near the wings. Unless First Class is an option. Then all bets are off, because free drinks. Anyway, by the time this drink cart gets to me, we'll probably be pretty close to landing. Should I not get this cocktail I will have to drink really quickly? No, I will need this cocktail for this landing. I saw some storms on the radar around our destination too.
HOW ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ASLEEP RIGHT NOW?? God, it's like they don't think we're all going to die.
Ah, sweet vodka. And I even had a coupon for a free drink on Delta. Hello, free Bloody Mary. It's about time.
These adorable, impeccably dressed flight attendants and I are going to be the only geniuses in skirts trying to climb over all the debris to get off this plane if it goes down. But at least I wore sensible shoes. Heels, but chunky ones. Not pointy ones. Never pointy ones. I will not be the jerk who punctures that inflatable slide and screws all the people behind me. Of course those poor flight attendants will have to get off last. They are heroes, those flight attendants. Why don't more people realize that?
I'm really having quite a bit of luck with Candy Crush on this flight. I've had infinite lives the whole time. So that's something. At least I always have a distraction when my hands are steady enough to play.
I go over my emergency plan in my head. The paths to the exits. The flotation devices. How to get to my daughter and get her out of her car seat. The Bloody Mary has made me just cocky enough to think, if this plane goes down and I'm still alive, by God I'm getting off this plane!
I intensely dislike this "we should have you on the ground within 20 minutes" announcement they like to make. Have you on the ground? I have watched a LOT of plane crash shows, and they all ended up on the ground.
Look out the window. Oh my God, the ground is still so far away. This flight is never going to end.
Downbursts. Bird strikes. Who inspects these planes anyway? When did they last inspect it? Do I really trust some random airplane-inspector-person to make sure that there's not some bolt loose, some microscopic crack somewhere. I am positive I saw an episode of "Why Planes Crash" where some microscopic crack in something caused something to let go and it hit something else and caused the plane to lose ALL of its hydraulics. Those may not be the technical terms, but that happened. Why must we trust SO many people when we fly? I put my life in the hands of the people who built the plane. The people who designed it. The people who inspect it. The people who perform its maintenance. The people who fly it. I don't even trust most people I actually know with my life. This seems patently ridiculous.
I really have to pee after drinking that cocktail. If this plane crashes and I live, I will definitely pee myself before rescue workers can reach me. That will be embarrassing. Surely that's happened before though. Seems not improbable.
Jesus, could we level this plane off a bit here? The ground is getting awfully close now. For someone who has never flown - not even in a simulator or a video game, mind you - I am an awfully strong critic of aviation skills as the ground rapidly approaches. Seriously though, why are we rocking back and forth so much?!
The ground! We landed! We're slowing down in time! This is an absolute miracle! Also, I totally knew we were going to be fine the whole time.
