F

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BEAT FEAR

ear will make you do nutty things. One of my greatest fears in life used to be
dying in a fiery plane crash. When I had to get on a plane, I used to be a
complete weirdo. I had all these superstitions about flying. First, I would scan the
boarding area looking for women with small babies, men or women in uniform,
priests, nuns, wheelchairs, off-duty pilots catching a ride home, or just generally
kind-looking people. Then, I would tell myself that God wouldn’t let the plane go
down with these nice folks onboard. That would assuage me until I got on the
plane. Then every bump or sound the plane made on the taxi out to the runway
made my heart race and chest tighten.

Take off was the worst. By the time the wheels left the tarmac, I was usually in
a full state of panic. I’d close my eyes and visualize an explosion, terrorists, my row
getting sucked out of the plane, or the plane just dropping from the sky. I’d squeeze
the arm rest and could barely breathe. If the captain spoke to us over the
loudspeaker my fear index would cut in half. I didn’t relax until the seat belt lights