The first time I experienced air travel was in fifth grade. My parents had eagerly announced to my brother and I that our family would be taking a vacation to the Bahamas as our Christmas gift. Like any 10-year-old at the time, I could not wait to experience my first tropical vacation. I would spend hours looking up online photos of the resort. The themed water slides and underground shops and restaurants captivated my attention. I started a countdown on my phone until the day we would depart. I painted my nails and packed my favorite swimsuits. Sadly, my excitement would soon giveaway to anxiety once I stepped into the airport.
We left our house at 4 a.m. to catch our 7 a.m. flight from Buffalo to Atlanta. We would then fly from Atlanta to Nassau, Bahamas. As soon as I stepped into the tile lobby, my heart dropped. Never had I been more overstimulated in my entire life. People were screaming, excited to reunite with family, or angered at their delayed flight. There were masses of people everywhere, and I became anxious that I would be separated from my family. It smelled like disinfectant and food courts competing for attention. As we walked through security, I had no idea what to do. The TSA workers seemed immensely impatient, which only fueled my stress.
An hour later, we boarded the plane. I didn’t realize how compact it would be. My mom sat next to me, and I had her squeeze my hand during takeoff and landing. I studied the safety pamphlet intensely. With any noise the plane made, my eyes darted around the cabin to see if anyone else was questioning their safety too. Needless to say, we survived. My parents and cousins remarked on how “smooth” the flight was. They were all in awe of the apparent lack of turbulence. Even as my family reclined to sleep or watch television on the flight, I was too uneasy to relax my nerves. The concept that we were in a floating metal tube at 30,000 feet made my stomach turn.
I wish I could say this is not my mentality anymore, but that would be a lie. I have tried medication, self-talk, and countless YouTube tutorials on how to get over my fear of flying. Nothing has worked. Each time I step onto a plane, I get the same nausea and panic as my first time. I believe it is crucial to experience diverse people, places, and cultures. I think of my life’s aspirations. My job will likely require me to travel. I want to study abroad. Nonetheless, my desire to explore this beautiful planet is sometimes overshadowed by an uncontrollable but normal human emotion: fear. I can’t say that I will ever find a magical cure for my airplane-induced anxiety. However, I am making a promise to myself that I will not let this stop me from living this life to its fullest potential.
We all have an obstacle that stands between us and our future, whether we like to admit it or not. This is the exact element that makes us human. I think of the risk-reward ratio of modern air travel. I experience a few hours of discomfort for priceless memories and experiences. I am not at all claiming that flying will ever become easy for me- because it won’t. However, pushing myself out of my comfort zone by flying more often will only force me to conquer this phobia head-on. How else can we live other than by doing the very things that challenge us the most?