Come fly with me

Or more accurately, don't. I'm a miserable beast to fly with and it's actually far better for me to do it alone than drag anyone else through the drama it is to travel in an air bus with yours truly.

I have four reasons that I don't like flying. The first two are associated with very technical "in the box" definitions of other phobias I have: claustrophobia and a fear of heights. When people ask about my fear of flying (or more accurately when I'm in an airport, freaking out and I volunteer the information to anyone who will listen) that is what I tell them; I don't like to be a sardine in a can and I don't like to be a sardine in a can 2,600 feet about ground.

The two, probably more accurate and to the point reasons I hate flying, are as follows. 

Number one: I like to exit any area that I occupy whenever I deem necessary, with or without notifying those who have accompanied me to said area. My friend L.J. calls this the Irish exit and I like it so I've adopted it. I perfected this skill in college but, upon reflection, I've been epic at this far before then. I always had a legit problem with administrators telling me I was confined to a specific desk and classroom in kindergarten. Furthermore I never understood why, in any stage of my education, it was deemed inappropriate to leave when I found it necessary- whether it be for the restroom or because whoever was standing in front of the classroom was boring the shit out of me and it was time to move onto bigger and better things. Regretfully, no one shared my opinion of the Irish exit during my public school education so I was continually forced to claim menstration or a bad fight with my boyfriend to facilitate me leaving the classroom to escape to the the choir room to nap on the floor behind the fourth row of chairs.

In college my Irish exits became infamous and often I would arrive to a party and have a barrage of people ask me for my keys and/or purse to prevent me from taking my exit as needed. I always politely declined and promised to stay right before I snuck out the back door. At this point of my life I'm confident that anyone who I became close with in school either resigned to the Irish exit, hijacked it for their own purposes, or decided it to be beneficial to them personally and therefore supported it. After all, if you supported my Irish exits it didn't  go unnoticed and you were undoubtedly rewarded with a ride home with an almost guaranteed stop by Sheetz for late night snacks.

I would also like to point out that my husband also shares in my love of Irish exits, something he also perfected prior to our relationship, and this alone makes us soul mates. We always plan our exit from any social gathering prior to arrival and it takes very few signals for either of us to read the others mind when we're thinking "evacuate immediately".

BACK TO THE POINT.

Do you see what I'm getting at here? I like to get out of places fast, on the drop of a hat, as soon as the mood strikes. Airplanes don't provide too many options to make that possible and it pisses me off. You can pull a car over, you can de-board a bus, but a plane is taking you from point A to point B without any pit stops or negotiations and I'm not a fan. If I wanted to be locked in a place with people I didn't know for a long period of time I would have found my way to prison by now. 

Number two:

I don't like not being able to fly my own plane. I rarely get in a car with a driver I don't know- I would rather walk than taxi in the highest of heels. At least with a taxi I can watch you while you drive, correct your obvious driving faux pas, view your taxi license, and order you to pull over when I deem you've run through your three strikes. I am completely and totally flabbergasted that prior to getting on a flight the pilot does not feel compelled to personally introduce himself to me and set up a pre-flight interview so I can determine if he is capable of getting me where I need to go without any hiccups. I can't believe they don't even send their resumes! Furthermore, preventing me from watching you do your job and critiquing the process is a hard slap in the face. I'm in charge of my destiny and I must say the minimal communication and total lack of an ability to observe the pilot is most disconcerting.

All this said, the irony is not lost on me that my husband is a pilot and I'm afraid to fly. If Durham could personally fly an expensive, private jet that we have purchased and maintained through a very well paid and knowledgeable mechanic I suspect that I might experience a 10-12% decreased freak out when traveling. I'm going out on a limb here when I say that this option is unlikely.

As you may have guessed, goal #12 is to overcome my fear of flying. I fly regularly and plan to fly continually throughout my life so conquering this is definitely something I not only want but need to do. I HAVE tried drugs, so I'll throw it out there that all they do for me is put me in a sedated panic. Not ideal for traveling alone- being stoned and walking around an airport by yourself (let alone driving to one) doesn't work. I mean, it works, just probably not for everyone else  when I stare at a water fountain for 10 minutes mesmerized by it's aquatic magic and miss my flight in search of chocolate chip cookies.

I'm currently in the process of an initial six appointments with an acupuncturist to work on my fear of flying, among other things. I'm also considering hypnosis and therapy, if necessary. I will continue to post on the developments in this area as they occur, and just my experiences overall because, who isn't interested in what goes on at an appointment with an acupuncturist or a hypnotist.  I am open to suggestions or pointers so please feel free to comment.