The Cure for Flying Fears
Linking with Imaginary Gardens for the "Tuesday Platform" where Marian shares her anxiety for April and tackling a poem a day, and her BIG moment meeting her literary hero Michael Chabon. I decided to share a story from long ago that I think covers both subjects; anxiety and meeting someone famous. Although, my story also has a bit of humiliation to add to the scenario.
So here we go:
Many years ago when I was in my 30's, my dear friend paid for me to fly to Ft. Worth to visit for my birthday. I had not flown in over 10 years and my flight there was a total disaster for me. I tried to keep my composure, but in my head I was freaking out. All I could think about was how fast the plane was going, what a horrific death it would be if it crashed, and how I was going to give my friend a piece of mind for putting me through such torment. She laughed when I told her about it, and being the wise and patient friend that she is, she told me that she would buy me a double margarita at the airport for the flight back.
When we arrived at the airport to send me back home, we made a quick trip to the bar to quench my fears so they would depart my body. Eventually we were at the waiting area and my friend noticed that the guys from the band "The Cure" were also on my flight. At the time, I was not familiar with their music, but it was obvious they were a band, and some girls were getting their autograph. By the time the plane was loading, they had already been seated in first class. My friend sweetly walked with me all the way to the opening of the airplane. Conveniently, it was right in the eye view of "first class". Before we said our goodbyes, she explained to the stewardess that I had a BIG fear of flying and to take good care of me. For a moment I was back in grade school, feeling the embarrassment that one feels when their mother exposes their little issues, like "she does wet the bed sometimes" or "that tangled mess on her head is a rat's nest no comb can move through" but lets not forget my favorite, "don't give her red meat, it gives her gas!" All I could think about was I have just been totally humiliated in front of a rock band! What luck, next stop VEGAS!! Don't get me wrong, I was never mad at my friend in the slightest. She was just so worried about me and her motives were genuine. It was just bad timing, or I guess bad luck. I walked meekly passed the band into coach where the road crew and all us nobodies fly. As the plane took off and headed to Houston, I realized that my crazy fear, was almost gone. I am not sure if it was the double margarita or the distraction of the rock band, but whatever it was, I was not dying a million deaths in my head and for that I was very grateful!! Evidently"The Cure", was my cure!