There was a brief period of time in my life where the anticipation of flying didn't send me into a panic. I'm not saying that I fear flying, not at all, but each time I travel across the country my brain starts a series of what-ifs the moment my ticket is booked.
My Grandfater retired from his career as a commercial pilot when I was a child. I was never able to fly on a plane piloted by my Grandfather, but he did accompany us on a trip or two. He would explain some of the intricacies of the plane, tell us how many times he had flown something just like it, and put my young mind to wonder just how we could fly higher than the birds. He would introduce us the Captain and his Co-pilot and I would get those little plastic wings, the ones they give to screaming children when their ears won't release pressure. It gave me a sense of connection to the crew and made me feel like they truly cared about my safety.
Even after our vacations together as a family came to a natural end, I found myself spirited away by the urge to travel across the country. My most memorable trip was my first vacation alone, six days in Chicago to meet a friend for the first time. I was ecstatic. I booked my flight and couldn't stop thinking about how wonderful it would be to finally meet this man face to face.
My anxiety began to grow in the airport, I was flying standby on a holiday weekend. Each plane was booked solid and I must have waited there for ten hours before finally getting told I could board the next flight. With my discman dead (yes, pre mp3 player...) I had no distraction to occupy my time with. Fortunately, the planes still had a small jack that a person could plug their headphones into to hear free inflight entertainment. There were a few channels available, but nothing piqued my interest, I couldn't very well sleep as I was budding with anticipation, so I sat, and just sat; bored and my thoughts reeling.
Midway through the flight the plane hit some very turbulent patches in its path. There were lights that told us to return to our seats and fasten our seatbelts, and a few announcements about the rough patches of air at the altitude we were at. I plugged my headphones back in and found the one station that I could listen to, the pilot's station.
That station then and there put every fear I had at ease. I was able to listen to the two men communicate about altitude and speed. There were other captains of other planes on the station giving tips as to which height provided the smoothest ride for passengers like myself. They spoke with the control tower and asked permission to change their course. I was enchanted hearing the dialog that I barely understood. They spoke so concisely, so directly and with such authority that any fear I had of a silly little air pocket diminished.
I don't remember when they stopped allowing passengers listen to the chatter between pilots and the control towers below, I imagine it was sometime after 2001. But each time I flew from my trip to Chicago until the service was no longer available I loved to listen in to the pilots' exchanges. Their expert maneuvering and professionalism provided me with such comfort that I could forget my anxiety and relax.
It's no wonder really that these memories are flooding my mind right now. As I begin my search to find a Dominant counterpart I've tried to recall what makes that relationship appealing to me. And right now, my life is full of air pockets.
I'm in the midst of a career change and still trying to find complete release from a passionless, loveless relationship. I'm facing inconsistency and disappointment from people whom I've put my trust into. I'm about to live on my own again for the first time in years. I'm slightly more than anxious about the whole affair.
I'm trying to maintain my own control, my own steady pace, and so far it seems I've kept my course. I would be nice, however, to hear those concise, direct and comforting words to reassure me that I will indeed land at my destination safely and in the hands of someone I can trust.
And if needed, I can leave my baggage at the claim, though I'd rather have a safe place to unpack it.
Cheers.
