The joy of a future holiday in the calendar alleviates the mundane routine that bogs you down. When you’re struggling to find light at the end of the working day. Bored of the mundane dramas orbiting you. Stuck with the complexities of dealing with family. These pre-booked holidays provide a glimmer of hope to escape the normality of average day. As this is the natural, instinctual reaction of any sane person. To run away, not dramatically, but very subtly. Whilst not doing so for very long but just enough time to put distance between your troubles, and the responsibility you have to address them. You only need to suffer the queues at airport security. Breath in the stale air conditioned atmosphere for three hours as you pay £25 for a meal that would otherwise cost you half the price for twice the disappointment. Then once that is over for however long you have chosen you get to fly, and soar into the beautiful big blue sky with no responsibilities. Leave it all behind you as best as you can.
Any rationale human who boards an airplane probably holds minimal concerns. Not limited to, but including the following. Is there a requirement to wrestle a cabin crew member, or member of the general public, to keep overhead luggage above my seat? How quickly can one calculate the length of flight ratio to necessity to purchase the most extortionate can of pringles known to mankind? Has it become socially acceptable to become a day drinking alcoholic? These are the average, typical questions that most people might be asking themselves, or expressing to those around them. Then for whatever reason, you find fools such as me. Those who think too much about the most rational, irrational fears when boarding an airplane.
Historically speaking I have flown many times before. In the early years of my life I was fortunate enough to underappreciate many trips to Spain, Greece or France depending on who I travelled with. I continued to travel to many European destinations in my teenage years, and later on in my early 20s. For the early years I never thought once about the concept of flying. As with pretty much all of it you bumble around making it through life. There were a few unique moments I can recall where I did care about flying. In 2014 I remember sitting next to my brother on a runway just before we flew to Budapest for a week away. I made the mistake of being honest and admitting that I am feeling a bit nervous to fly. Asking the normal question, another mistake, “don’t you get nervous at all?” I was sat by the window looking at the engine just sat above the tarmac as I did this I turned and looked at Oskar sat in the middle right next to me to find his answer. “Why would I be nervous?” He asked. That was the immediate response from him. Followed up with a rationale that on a technical level you cannot refute. Something along the lines of if you crash and burn there’s nothing you can do about this, so don’t bother yourself thinking about it. Weirdly I didn’t feel better after the conversation and thought that it possibly wasn’t the most reassuring way to make me feel safer as we took off five minutes later. I mean this was the same year that I was boarding a flight to Berlin with my dad, and I was reading a breaking news article an hour before about the depressed German pilot who decided to nosedive a plane and take everyone out with him. So, it’s possible I was growing a sort of developed consciousness in my teenage years that was blossoming into very rational irrational fears. However, I don’t recall this fear manifesting itself any more significantly beyond these few moments. I flew many times after all around Europe with friends and family without a problem. It is very possible that what my brother told me that day slowly sunk into my mind and gave me the reassurance he poorly attempted to provide me.
Then the relationship between aviation and I changed forever; around the same time everything changed for everyone around the world. After 2019/2020 I had a two year hiatus for obvious reasons from travelling, and during this I guess I changed as an individual who feared more in the world. The next time I got the chance to fly was in 2021, and everything felt different. When I boarded a flight to Spain. There was no problem. When the engines started there was no problem. When the flight attendants started going through the routine of disaster management there was no problem. The seat belt sign flicked on above, and the busyness of the environment swallowed the peace in my mind.
Then as the plane swung itself round on the runway. The engines started blasting, and I felt the pressure begin to mount around me. When I felt that the plane had left the ground, and as I felt the cabin pressure begin to crush my mind. There was this moment of what the am I doing here. I looked out of the window to see everything I know turn into a miniature version of itself. I am sat gritting my teeth, holding onto the arms of my chair as if I will manually steer this flight through pure mental anguish alone. The pressure on my head. This is the hardest to describe. I feel as if my mind is about to explode. Whereas its most likely just the change in atmosphere for my sinuses. However, at that moment of take-off if you told me that an elephant was slowly stepping on my head I wouldn’t entirely disagree with my eyes glued shut. Then comes the fight or flight instinct. The realisation that I am this high in the sky, and there are a few inches of aluminium between me and the sudden drop. The insanity that I am putting my life in the hands of someone that I don’t know. The lack of control over the whole situation, and that if something went wrong, I couldn’t do anything to help. The worst feeling of all is the fear of stupidity for me. If this plane took a nosedive for whatever reason and everyone around me was screaming. Praying to their gods. Passed out from the adrenaline. I know that I wouldn’t be doing any of those things. I would be sat there thinking I am an idiot. Why did you think getting into this situation was smart? That is what I would be sat asking myself. Any time there is a bit of turbulence or a change in noises I am stuck with my blood pressure hitting the roof for the entire length of the time stuck in the metal tube.
The frustration is that this is an irrational fear. As statistically I am at danger of dying in many other far less interesting and common day-to-day activities. I have flown numerous times before and never had a single issue. I also know people that have flown with issues but had no bad outcome. There are many reasons that I shouldn’t rationally fear flying. This is an entirely self-made problem as the only empowerment to the fear is the fact that I care, and I shouldn’t. Regardless of this there is a part of my mind that knows deep down. This is a rational response to what is happening around me. I shouldn’t be here. As I look out of the window at the world I live in. This image would be something my ancestors could only have dreamt about witnessing. The idea of flying above it all permits a beautiful but terrifying view in front of me. I am so privileged to see it all, but this doesn’t stop it feeling all so wrong. The monkey brain knows whatever is happening here I should be running as far away as possible from it. As I stare out that window, I can’t help but catch the glimpse of my own reflection. With the hairs on my body looking longer and more distorted than usual. With my arms hanging lower by the sides. Defined curling hands and feet. The small specks of ginger that have left the crevasses of my beard and implanted themselves all over me. I truly understand that in this moment the millions of years of evolution mean nothing. I am still just an orangutan, but I am flying and soaring through the sky.
