I’m on a plane writing this. I used to love flying and then when I became a mother I suddenly became terrified to fly alone in case of a crash leaving my kids motherless. So for the first 8 years I had kids, I never got on a plane without them.
Once I got cancer all of that changed. It was such a relief. Knowing I was going to die of cancer made it so much easier to get on a plane. Suddenly I felt oddly bullet-proof. Even all these years later, fear of flying isn’t on my radar.
In fact, getting cancer helped me worry less in general— once my greatest fear actually happened, it made me much less fearful. And much more fatalistic.
Over the years since, I’ve come to believe even more in fate and our inability to control it. I‘ ve developed a somewhat comforting trust in the universe that I’m here till the time comes when I’m not.
I gave V a tiny bit some of the credit since he was not Jewish and thus much more philosophical and relaxed. How lucky was I to have a husband who could minimize my tendency to worry and obsess?
So get this. The other day V says to me–“Do you know that people are statistically most likely to die the month following their birthday?”
Did I really need to hear this fact the day after my birthday— with a full month to go?
Nor did I need to hear the other stuff he’s spouting since he read a book called The Survivor’s Club. Suddenly he’s full of little useful tidbits of information. Such as: the safest place to sit on an airplane is an aisle seat–within 5 rows of the exit row. Plus—on a plane you should be wearing running shoes in order to run away immediately while a crash is still survivable.
My father did not have this information in the 1950’s—-yet he survived TWO plane crashes. I have no idea if he was near an exit row– or what kind of shoes he had on.
I don’t want to know; I prefer my fatalistic attitude and I don’t want to think about this stuff. Besides, I like sitting up front, and I like the window seat.
Today V drops me off at the San Jose airport for my flight. By now his survival tips are ancient history. I’ve been so distracted over the last few days, I don’t remember to print out my boarding pass, much less remember to wear the right shoes for a fast getaway.
It’s a Southwest flight, with open seating. I step on the plane and suddenly remember: aisle seat, exit row, running shoes.
The shoes are a lost cause; and I silently curse V as I choose a seat one row away from the exit row. And then I throw my fate in with fate, abandoning my superstitious nature—in fact, I am actually ON THE PLANE (poo poo poo) writing this. In my window seat.
P.S. The plane lands safely. Later V calls with one more statistic I wish I knew earlier: you are more likely to be killed by your pet than in a plane crash.
Bob Beers says
A couple of points on this matter of flying. You are more likely to die getting to and from the airport than being in an airplane. I don’t want you to start worrying about the drive home but you can relax on the plane. I have been through five emergency landings including one when two engines caught on fire over Panama and got my one and only trip to Costa Rica out of it. Lovely place, never any news there, so emergency landing junkets were my only shot. The best place to sit is First or Business Class not because they are safer actually but if you have to assume the crash position the pillows are much softer.
Mark Geduldig-Yatrofsky says
I hate to fly, doing it of necessity rather than affinity. What makes it worse is that I have become a “Lost” fan, which ought to be a definite “no-no” for airborne fraidy-cats. To people like Bob (the previous commenter), I want you to know that statistics are no comfort to me when I’m being bounced around in the air at any altitude above ground level. Don’t try talking sense to me when I am in panic mode!
Debi Drecksler says
I’d rather get a shot with an oversized needle than get on a plane. When I travel by air,I usually take a dramamine and pretend like it’s a valium… since if I really took a valium , they would have to carry me on the plane.
Grace says
When I first started flying as a teenage, I used to be so nervous. To comfort myself, I would always count how many rows I was from the nearest and 2nd nearest exit rows. I’d also have my purse/backpack (under the seat in front of me rather than the overhead) with the biggest water bottle I could carry along with a few snacks. Crazy? No. It was my comfort knowing that if we ever got stranded that I’d know which way to go and that I’d have something to eat & drink. We all kind of do our own rituals to gain order when we fly — since we’ve got no control over the whole thing. Hope you have a great trip home!
Darryle Pollack says
Love hearing all your stories—they’re very comforting. Not as comforting is the fact that a car is far, far more dangerous than a plane. Especially since tomorrow, instead of flying home, I’m driving. (and as neurotic as I was about planes,I”ve always been much more neurotic about cars.)
Maureen@IslandRoar says
Your father survived 2 plane crashes???
Talk about it not being your time….
I love V’s last tidbit: more likely to be killed by one’s pet. It actually gives me great comfort!
Darryle Pollack says
I love it, too— but I plan to treat our cat with a little more respect.
Duchess says
oh, I don’t understand you at all… I used to hate being on a plane with my kids. Of course I knew the chances were ridiculously remote,but I would think, I don’t care what happens to me, but I don’t want to know that I have put them on a plane that’s going down. Better they should be motherless than dead!
(I do know that it is not rational and crossing the road is more dangerous blah blah blah blah. but that isn’t the point)
Amy Sue Nathan says
My kids’ father died five years ago and I haven’t flown without them since. He was my ex – and divorce provides inherent backup – until there’s no longer an ex.
I don’t know when I’ll get on a plane without them again. Chances are they will fly without me before I fly without them.
Darryle Pollack says
Wow, Amy, that must be rough. I really commiserate about the flying. After I moved my kids away from LA, they would go to visit their dad who lives down there. They loved flying alone. But for me—as hard as it was to fly anywhere without the kids—- it was way harder to put them on a plane without me.
Finally I just started driving them to LA myself. (Don’t want to get started on the dangers of driving vs. flying….)