I hate flying. I hate flying. I hate flying. Really... I really really hate flying. The worst part... it seems to get worse every time I fly. I wish I could get over it, but for some reason I cannot. I do better when I fly with someone I know, but that does not make it completely alright.
I usually tell people I am not afraid of dying, since that is usually the first question I get when someone finds out that I am afraid of flying. But I've been thinking about it. Yes, I am afraid of dying. Afraid of blowing up in the sky. Afraid of a free fall where I get a few minutes to completely lose my shit before hitting the ground and blowing up. And 9/11... that did a lot of damage to me.
I am sure this makes me less of a person... less of a normal person. But this last trip to California was not so fun. The flight home to Chicago was bumpy and I thought about barfing, but thankfully my breakfast stayed down. And I can be honest, most people would have told you that it was a smooth flight - but not for me. A big part of what makes flying not so fun is that I am usually uncomfortable. I am over 6' and my knees spend the entire flight shoved into the seat in front of me. So mix that with not being able to sit still... I cannot sit still ever. Don't sit behind me in a movie theater because I'm the person always fidgeting in my seat. And sleeping on a plane will never happen... I just cannot seem to do it. I have flown first class and that seems to help. A little leg room and bottomless wine seem to do wonders. But I cannot afford first class and booze on every flight.
Not sure what to do about it. Not sure how to get over it. Not sure how I have ever made it to Europe. Not sure how the hell I am going to ever make it back. File under: something to work on, or never get a job that requires travel.