On Air Travel

All this talk about conferences raising an important issue: air travel. Some people fly so regularly that they wouldn’t give this issue a second thought. Other people may never have flown before and have their own opinions. As for me, I haven’t flown since August of 2000. Yes, you read that correctly. Not since the beginning of the millenium have I boarded an aircraft. It started as simply a lack of necessity, but then this event occurred on September 11th, 2001, that instilled a phobia. I recognize the condition for what it is because I realize the fear is irrational. Will the plane I board be destined to crash simply because I have boarded it? Irrational. Despite logic and reasoning, I have made every excuse not to fly since that date.

Here we are over 25 years later, and I have not one but two conferences that interest me, along with a meeting to conduct an interview for my Appalachian Literature research. The Appalachian Studies conference isn’t a problem because driving to West Virginia only takes approximately seven hours (plus the scenery is spectacular, and I have a conference companion who is short and spunky just like me). However, the other two trips will require flights. Oh sure, I could argue that driving to Las Vegas isn’t a big deal, but I would prefer to spend less time traveling and more time enjoying the visit. The other conference (sending big, magical clouds of pixie dust into the ether)… I cannot swim that far, nor would I enjoy traveling by ship. So, air travel is it.

Now, I already felt a certain way about flying. Having several miles between me and the ground is not my favorite. “Oh, but you’re more likely to have a car accident.” Yes, I understand that, but you ride in cars more frequently for one, and for another you typically have a good chance of surviving a car accident. Falling thousands of feet from the sky seems like a recipe for certain doom if you ask me! Then, the last time I was trapped in a giant metal tube hurtling through the clouds, my sister and I were seated near the air compressors. Being a teenager at the time and having zero clue about the inner workings of an aircraft, I thought I was hearing the roaring sound of the engines. Wow, was I irritated with the volume! However, the air compressors turned off — and my heart leapt into my throat because I thought the engines stalled. Were we about to plummet to our demise? I had to straight-face it while waiting anxiously for any indication that this would be the end because I didn’t want my little sister to panic unless absolutely necessary. Breathlessly, I sat quietly until the compressors kicked back on, and the crisis was averted. Needless to say, I had to restrain myself from kissing the ground in New York City after that flight!