noflyingfan
10-29-2004, 12:53 PM
This is kind of long, but bear with me, because it has a great ending.
So, after the week from hell (not much of which had to do with flying itself), I got on the plane and came to Cleveland.
As I left to go to the airport, I was ready to cry. Part of it was just that I didn't want to leave my boyfriend, who I am used to seeing every day. (Since we moved in together, there have only been like four days we haven't seen each other -- and we're still not sick of each other, imagine that). Anyway, in the car, I made it a point to talk about other things besides flying. He did say one really cute thing though -- I told him I was getting nervous about flying, and he said, "don't worry, the sky's just a big bowl of jello, and you can't eat it all at once."
As we pulled up to the loading and unloading zone, I had the theme from Airplane! going through my head. I hummed it a little bit.
My plane was scheduled to take off at 7:45 p.m., and once I went through security and everything, I still had a lot of time. I knew I'd cry if I called my boyfriend, so I called a goofy friend of mine who I knew would take my mind off of flying. I talked to him for awhile, and when the time got close to board, I called my boyfriend and cried a little bit.
By this time, the plane was at the gate and people were lining up, so I decided to bite the bullet and ask the gate agent if I could meet the pilot. He said, "I'm sorry, we don't do that." (In my head is my trip report where I say I had a bad experience with a mean gate agent and everybody writing back saying, "of course they do that!"). So I told him, "I know a lot of people who have done it, and they all say it helps a lot." He said he'd check.
I got in line, trying not to cry, and a few minutes later, the gate agent came back, asked for my name and said, "come with me." He took me to the plane, and at the end of the jetway was the pilot. He said it would be a little bumpy on the way up but that it was a "beautiful night to fly" and that once we got above the clouds, it would be smooth sailing. He assured me that he doesn't have to take off if he doesn't want to, and if that he's not convinced that this airplane is safe and ready to fly, he will not fly. I got a seat on the wing, by the window. Perfect.
*The captain's name was Tom. He was very nice but not cute. I mean, not a bad looking man, but not the Tom Cruise I was hoping for. However, he looked normal, not psychotic, and that's good enough for me.
My Xanax started kicking in about this time, but we sat on the runway for a long, long time. Normally, I would have thought "Gaaa! What's wrong with the plane!" but there were lots of planes in front of us. I looked out the window at nothing in particular. Tom came on the thingy about 8:10 and said we were third in line to take off. Then he said something about us flying over some town in Michigan that years ago took five hours to get to from Detroit on a stagecoach. Kind of put things in perspective.
We took off about 8:20, and to take my mind off of taking off, I named in my head all 50 U.S. States in alphabetical order. I've been practicing all week, so I'm pretty good by now, but before I was finished, the FAs were takin drink orders! I couldn't believe it. The seatbelt sign went off about 8:30. The captain came on at that point and said we were about 200 miles from Cleveland and would arrive about 10:05 eastern time. It was really cloudy, so there was nothing to see from the window, but I didn't even care.
Around 8:45, we started our initial descent. The captain said we were still 100 miles from Cleveland, which was really just amazing to me. We had a few bumps, but just a few, and I had been forewarned (thank you, Beth), so they didn't bother me. Five minutes later, we were below the clouds and I could see the lights of Cleveland. As they got bigger, I thought no city had ever looked so beautiful. (Which is a big deal, because #1, it's Cleveland -- sorry, Beth -- and #2, I live in Chicago, which is a gorgeous place).
Maybe it was partly the Xanax, but I wanted to cry again -- this time, because I had nearly completed a flight during which at no time was I ever scared. As soon as I got on that plane, I was absolutely fine and remained so throughout the entire flight. For me, that is more than amazing.
At 8:55 (well, 9:55 local time), we started our final descent. The flight attendants announced that they'd be coming around to pick up cups and cans and any trash we wouldn't be taking off the plane. I took out a piece of paper and wrote on it one word -- "fear." When the flight attendants came by, I threw that piece of paper away. I left my fear on that airplane. It's trash, and I don't need it anymore.
So, after the week from hell (not much of which had to do with flying itself), I got on the plane and came to Cleveland.
As I left to go to the airport, I was ready to cry. Part of it was just that I didn't want to leave my boyfriend, who I am used to seeing every day. (Since we moved in together, there have only been like four days we haven't seen each other -- and we're still not sick of each other, imagine that). Anyway, in the car, I made it a point to talk about other things besides flying. He did say one really cute thing though -- I told him I was getting nervous about flying, and he said, "don't worry, the sky's just a big bowl of jello, and you can't eat it all at once."
As we pulled up to the loading and unloading zone, I had the theme from Airplane! going through my head. I hummed it a little bit.
My plane was scheduled to take off at 7:45 p.m., and once I went through security and everything, I still had a lot of time. I knew I'd cry if I called my boyfriend, so I called a goofy friend of mine who I knew would take my mind off of flying. I talked to him for awhile, and when the time got close to board, I called my boyfriend and cried a little bit.
By this time, the plane was at the gate and people were lining up, so I decided to bite the bullet and ask the gate agent if I could meet the pilot. He said, "I'm sorry, we don't do that." (In my head is my trip report where I say I had a bad experience with a mean gate agent and everybody writing back saying, "of course they do that!"). So I told him, "I know a lot of people who have done it, and they all say it helps a lot." He said he'd check.
I got in line, trying not to cry, and a few minutes later, the gate agent came back, asked for my name and said, "come with me." He took me to the plane, and at the end of the jetway was the pilot. He said it would be a little bumpy on the way up but that it was a "beautiful night to fly" and that once we got above the clouds, it would be smooth sailing. He assured me that he doesn't have to take off if he doesn't want to, and if that he's not convinced that this airplane is safe and ready to fly, he will not fly. I got a seat on the wing, by the window. Perfect.
*The captain's name was Tom. He was very nice but not cute. I mean, not a bad looking man, but not the Tom Cruise I was hoping for. However, he looked normal, not psychotic, and that's good enough for me.
My Xanax started kicking in about this time, but we sat on the runway for a long, long time. Normally, I would have thought "Gaaa! What's wrong with the plane!" but there were lots of planes in front of us. I looked out the window at nothing in particular. Tom came on the thingy about 8:10 and said we were third in line to take off. Then he said something about us flying over some town in Michigan that years ago took five hours to get to from Detroit on a stagecoach. Kind of put things in perspective.
We took off about 8:20, and to take my mind off of taking off, I named in my head all 50 U.S. States in alphabetical order. I've been practicing all week, so I'm pretty good by now, but before I was finished, the FAs were takin drink orders! I couldn't believe it. The seatbelt sign went off about 8:30. The captain came on at that point and said we were about 200 miles from Cleveland and would arrive about 10:05 eastern time. It was really cloudy, so there was nothing to see from the window, but I didn't even care.
Around 8:45, we started our initial descent. The captain said we were still 100 miles from Cleveland, which was really just amazing to me. We had a few bumps, but just a few, and I had been forewarned (thank you, Beth), so they didn't bother me. Five minutes later, we were below the clouds and I could see the lights of Cleveland. As they got bigger, I thought no city had ever looked so beautiful. (Which is a big deal, because #1, it's Cleveland -- sorry, Beth -- and #2, I live in Chicago, which is a gorgeous place).
Maybe it was partly the Xanax, but I wanted to cry again -- this time, because I had nearly completed a flight during which at no time was I ever scared. As soon as I got on that plane, I was absolutely fine and remained so throughout the entire flight. For me, that is more than amazing.
At 8:55 (well, 9:55 local time), we started our final descent. The flight attendants announced that they'd be coming around to pick up cups and cans and any trash we wouldn't be taking off the plane. I took out a piece of paper and wrote on it one word -- "fear." When the flight attendants came by, I threw that piece of paper away. I left my fear on that airplane. It's trash, and I don't need it anymore.