I go through this process when I fly, of stressing-in-advance. It helps me to get through the flight without utterly collapsing. And I used to think the advance stressing--not to mention the nightmares, complete with flashbacks to the crash I actually witnessed--were really kinda dumb.
But once we flew to Alberta on no notice, when K's dad was suddenly seriously ill. The flight there we were all in a daze and my sister-in-law the pilot was telling me interesting things about turbulence and I got through okay. On the way back, after a weekend of hospitals and soothing other people who were in huge distress, our flight got delayed, and jerked around. Soon it turned out we were hopping to Calgary before catching a puddle-jumper back to Vancouver.
That first leg was a disastrous flight in every Alyx way. I'd had a drink to calm down, forgetting that alcohol just makes me feel whatever I already was, only more so. And the plane's engine noise kept changing, which is the thing that makes me most insane.
I spent most of the flight wimpering in unmistakeable terror. Humiliating! And the stewardess was sitting right across the aisle from me.
There was one tiny moment when I thought I'd finally calmed down. Then I noticed the stewardess (air hostess?) looking at me with barely concealed contempt. I looked down and saw that while my upper body was calm, my feet were running away as fast as they could carry me. Of course, they weren't actually touching the plane floor; it was like being Wile E. Coyote, trying to run on the air after he's sprinted over a cliff.
Anyway. Long story long, my point is this: I realized two things after that. One, the stressing-before-the-flight serves a psychological purpose, for me, anyway. Two, I am a mess when I fly if my emotional resources have already been tapped.
These little factoids seemed worth relating to you when I started this comment. Perhaps I probably should just have offered these. You won't die en route to the Con. And you will have an excellent time at Escapade.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-24 03:34 am (UTC)But once we flew to Alberta on no notice, when K's dad was suddenly seriously ill. The flight there we were all in a daze and my sister-in-law the pilot was telling me interesting things about turbulence and I got through okay. On the way back, after a weekend of hospitals and soothing other people who were in huge distress, our flight got delayed, and jerked around. Soon it turned out we were hopping to Calgary before catching a puddle-jumper back to Vancouver.
That first leg was a disastrous flight in every Alyx way. I'd had a drink to calm down, forgetting that alcohol just makes me feel whatever I already was, only more so. And the plane's engine noise kept changing, which is the thing that makes me most insane.
I spent most of the flight wimpering in unmistakeable terror. Humiliating! And the stewardess was sitting right across the aisle from me.
There was one tiny moment when I thought I'd finally calmed down. Then I noticed the stewardess (air hostess?) looking at me with barely concealed contempt. I looked down and saw that while my upper body was calm, my feet were running away as fast as they could carry me. Of course, they weren't actually touching the plane floor; it was like being Wile E. Coyote, trying to run on the air after he's sprinted over a cliff.
Anyway. Long story long, my point is this: I realized two things after that. One, the stressing-before-the-flight serves a psychological purpose, for me, anyway. Two, I am a mess when I fly if my emotional resources have already been tapped.
These little factoids seemed worth relating to you when I started this comment. Perhaps I probably should just have offered these. You won't die en route to the Con. And you will have an excellent time at Escapade.