“The three thirty flight to Philadelphia is now boarding.”
I gulp, and a wad of spit slides down my throat. I pick up my two carry-ons, my purse and my hot pink tote bag, and hesitantly make my way to the door in front of Gate 23.
I get in a line full of older men with briefcases, ladies with romance novels, and families with cranky, spoiled kids. I don’t see anyone my age boarding the plane. It makes me too nervous. My palms start sweating again, and I desire to crack my knuckles, a weird habit I’ve had since I was a little girl. I’m flying in this plane by myself, and I’m not sure how to deal with that.
My boarding tickets are in a Continental Airlines packet in my purse. I try to un-zip the zipper, but my hands won’t stop shaking. As much as I mentally tell them to stop, they shake harder.
I was the one who wanted to go to California to visit her family. I was the one who was sure she was independent enough to fly three thousand miles away by herself.
A stewardess with brown hair and pearls starts scanning tickets at the front of the line. I completely freak out as the two sides of my brain feud over this whole trip. Here’s a basic dialogue of what I call my nervous, anxious brain and my calm, collected brain:
Calm and collected brain: I’ve been on tons of planes before and I’ve never crashed.
Nervous and anxious brain: This trip could be different though. A guy from the Taliban could hijack the plane, like September eleventh, and fly it into one of the tallest skyscrapers in the world. You are flying over Chicago right?
Calm and collected brain: Planes are the safest form of transportation.
Nervous and anxious brain: Still…this could be different.
So while I my brain kept on changing its opinions, the line kept on moving forward. I almost wasn’t aware when it was my turn to get my tickets scanned. Luckily, I easily reached down in my purse and grabbed them, my hands still shaking a little but not as nervous as I was.
But when I walk through the connection…I start to panic again. I successfully guide myself to my seat near the middle of the plane and get settled. I have a window seat right over the wing, so at least I’m near the safety exit. However, my imaginative mind thinks of the scariest things possible. So many different crash scenes fly through my head as I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.
Once everyone’s settled in their seats, the flight attendants go through all the motions, making sure we know where everything is and what to do with it in case of an emergency, which you can only guess made the anxiety worse.
As if I wasn’t even paying attention, they suddenly tell us to fasten are seatbelts. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. I grip to the armrests, thankfully the older man next to me said he didn’t want to use his, and hold on for dear life.
The plane starts going down the runway, first at a slow speed, then advancing to a fast gait. I suppress a scream as the plane finally lifts off the pavement and begins the ascent towards the fluffy, marshmallow clouds. The plane’s engine grunts and it makes me nervous, and tilt of the aircraft only makes me feel like we’re going to fall backwards and crash.
The thing is, we don’t stop. We get up to 30,000 feet, and everyone else acts like the ride is fine. Meanwhile, I secretly hope that birds don't fly into the engines. I’m not ready to die.
