For nearly 30 years, I have been a nervous flyer. It was cuter when I was younger, and the flight attendant would often escort me to the cockpit where the pilots would allay my concerns. These days, when I board the plane and promptly ask the flight attendant, “Will it be smooth?” they look at me as though I’m a little nuts (Perhaps).
I think it began just after TWA flight 800 went down shortly after taking off from JFK for Rome (with a stopover in Paris). Among many, it carried several student travelers, en route to Paris for summer study. I had just taken a flight from JFK, visited Paris and was in Rome when it went down.
I had received a partial scholarship to take part in a student exchange program through the School for International Training in Brattleboro. It was my first time abroad and was life-changing, igniting a passion in me for international travel. It also ignited my fear of flying, which didn’t start until later that summer.
What began as an innocent fear grew into an irrational panic when I boarded flights. My mom had the nail imprints on her hands to prove that I wasn’t playing, and most of the passengers around me wished they weren’t, whenever we hit the slightest bump. My fear deepened with each flight and turned into more of a phobia.
Gate agents or flight attendants took pity on me and sometimes moved me into first class. First class helped a little, because, while it doesn’t make you invincible, it does offer ..
. free booze. Drinks took th.