Blue Pills and Parachutes

I've struggled all my life with the so called irrational fear of flying. Why is it irrational? I may not be a physicist but if a flock of birds can bring a plane down...I'm starting to think my fear was grounded on some very solid survival instincts.

I'm referring to the 'miracle on Hudson Bay'. A miracle indeed. Not sure if the plane flew into a flock of Canada Geese or if the geese, on detecting the Arctic temperatures of their native land decided on a mass suicide pact and flew straight into the engines of the Airbus 320. The result was the same. Black Hawk down. There is no doubt the pilot's quick thinking and long years of service saved 155 lives. He deserves all the accolades that are raining down on him. I'd still be clinging to his ankles.

Canada Geese are now on the US NSA hit list. Don't bother trying to fly into US air space because my little goosy gander you will be hauled away by customs and forced into an orange jump suit.

It must have been Manhattan's worst nightmare to hear a pilot's distress call so close to the city that has already paid dearly for ...well this isn't about politics.

So I revert to the wisdom of a life jacket and not a parachute beneath passengers' seats. I take it all back. Airport Authority 1, Me 0.

In my time as a 'nervous traveller' I have still managed to travel the world. I rationalize my terror of crashing by reminding myself that it's the safest way to travel once you've actually taken off and are at cruising altitude and of course up until the time the pilot asks his crew to cross check and take seats for landing. At these times I find self medication helps. A nice Beaujolais or aged rye for example is recommended. On flights to dodgy countries on dodgy airlines I knock myself out with a little blue pill.

I did this once on an internal flight in Cuba that had a reputation for only making it's destination every other week and rather embarrassingly miscalculated the dosage for such a short flight. Suffice to say the airport and hotel staff were very accommodating...or so I'm told. I woke up in my room in Santiago de Cuba with my shoes still on and a vague recollection of the crew offering me a glass of tap water just as we hit altitude.