My Traveling Friend Val & Me

I hate to fly. For awhile I didn’t fly. I pretended I flew, but I really didn’t. Then I moved to LA, and after taking the train here and back, I realized I was going to have to be an air traveler again. So I commandeered my friend Val to accompany me each time I fly.

I need to take a moment here to explain. In my defense, I have reasons not to like to fly. My father, back in the day, had a number of airplanes; a DC3 (an old prop cargo plane), a Duke (fast prop plane) and a Lear Jet. Actually they were all part of his company, but we flew in all of them. Let’s review. The DC3 ran out of gas and landed in the ocean between St. Maarten and San Juan. The pilots floated in a blow up boat saving laundry from the hotel (that’s what they were flying to Puerto Rico) instead of getting out the equipment that was worth something.

Then there was the Lear Jet. I used to kneel between the two pilots during takeoff and they would do a roll as we were going up. My father was flying once to Chicago O’Hare and they called the tower to say they spilled coffee on the maps and needed to be talked in. They didn’t spill anything on the maps. Either they couldn’t figure them out – or maybe they didn’t bring them, I don’t really remember. I am so lucky to be alive.

Then there was the time that my father – who pretended to have a license, but didn’t – was flying from St. Maarten to Florida in the Duke. We stopped halfway to refuel, took off again and then I hear this “F*&^&k” from the cockpit. He had gone the wrong way and we were back in St. Maarten. Don’t you think it’s odd that when a private plane lands there is no one there asking to see their license?

As I aged, I think the enormity of the danger of these types of things made me afraid to fly. I prefer to think it’s my experience rather than my need for control. Can we leave that issue aside? Call it your act of kindness today. And, then after seeing the planes go into the towers in person on 9/11, I got much worse. In 2004 I stopped flying altogether.

Interestingly enough, my sister is afraid of flying too. She is more vocal on planes than I am. She was flying back from Japan or somewhere into Kennedy airport and the pilot came on. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it looks like we have some bad weather into Kennedy, and I may divert to Philadelphia. I will let you know in the next half hour what the plan is, but I wanted to give you a head’s up.” She was in first class. She stood up from the front row, turned around to address her fellow passengers and said, “Hi, my name is Susie (not her real name). I vote to divert rather than risk landing in bad weather. All those in favor, raise your hands?” She then turned to the stewardess (that’s what they were called then) and said, “The ayes have it. Please let the pilot know we will be landing in Philadelphia.” The pilot got on a few minutes later and said, “Despite the vote in first class, we will be landing at Kennedy where the weather has lifted.”

I often interview the pilots when I board. “How was your day?” “Did you guys go out last night?” “Need any help with the flight plan?” I’m sure they roll their eyes and know that there is yet another control freak nut case on the flight but I don’t care. I want eye contact. I want to know he hasn’t been drinking, and I want to know he looks like Sully and not Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

My ex and I flew a lot. I mean a lot. All over Europe especially. I would sit and shake through the flights. Once flying from Geneva to NYC, he looked at me, put all his papers away, turned and said, “OK, we are going to fix this now. Tell me just what you are afraid of and we will figure it out.” I looked at him, grabbed his arm and said, “I’m sure we are all going to die!” He looked back at me and said, “I can’t help you,” took out his papers again and left me sitting there listening for whatever I thought would tell me something was wrong. I can’t blame him for that one; there was nothing he could do.

Anyway, back to me flying with my friend Val who has gotten me past this stupid fear that has blocked a lot of my living life to its fullest. Val is short for Valium, and she is my flying partner. Before I can even get anxious now, I take Val and voila I’m flying! I fly a lot now. Back and forth between NY and LA, and then again to different cities for business.

While Val is an important part of it all, there is something else that moved me past it as well. I happened to be in a hotel near LAX last summer and my room overlooked the runway. I watched plane after plane land time after time every time I was in my room. I envisioned that happening all over the country over and over again, and then I realized that hundreds of thousands (if I’m wrong and it’s less, please do NOT email and tell me) planes do this every day. And only once or twice a year is there the kind of problem that would end my days here. What are the odds?

So, I fly now. Fly. Fly. Fly. And, I’m so happy I do. Yesterday I flew from NYC to LA and actually worked the entire time on my computer. Communicating through email made it even better. If you are in touch with the ground, doesn’t that sort of mean you are on the ground? Look, don’t judge me. If you don’t have this fear, you don’t get it. If you do, I hope this helps. Hook up that WiFi and start emailing.

So if you are afraid of flying, Val is around. Go to a busy airport and watch the flights taking off for several hours and then multiply it in your head. WiFi through the flight. But never forget to bring Val with you. She is the best.