My fear of flying

I am afraid of flying. I hate it. But obviously, see above list of interests and notice "travel" as one of them, I must do it. It's a necessary evil, I suppose.

This phobia of mine far supersedes both my fear of spiders and of birds accidentally flying into my face. You think I'm crazy? Well, just look at what happened to poor Fabio. I have no problem displaying my crazy when it comes to these two phobias. I will scream dramatically and with great affect when encountering an eight-legged demon and I will unabashedly "hit the deck" when winged creatures  are flying just a little too close to my head (my husband LOVES when I do this on our walks in the park). Yes-- I am not embarrassed nor shy about waving these freak flags of mine but when it comes to flying, I feel I need to keep it together. I won't even medicate or drink too much on a flight because I don't want my reflexes impaired in case we go down. Emergency-ready-position needs to be easy to get into and Valium or alcohol may inhibit me and I just don't want to take that chance. So I must stick to faking that I am OK. That I don't think I'm actually going to die. I smile and nod at the flight attendants as if I am just on a leisurely cruise about town.

Perhaps I don't want to incite panic among the other passengers thereby jeopardizing my chances of survival in the event of an emergency. Or maybe, just maybe, I have a little bit of shame for once? I think the former is more likely. As for me, I will keep my sweaty palms and  thoughts of imminent death to myself. If everyone actually realized that we are only protected by a thin metal casing that could be ripped apart by turbulence or forced to the ground by a stray bird in the engine (again with the BIRDS!), everyone would be as freaked out as I am. It's their ignorance that protects them. I wouldn't take that away, I'm just not that kind of person.