By: Blonde One
Blonde Two says that I am the braver of the Two Blondes but when it comes to flying that is not the case. I admit to being a big chicken when it comes to getting into a metal tube full of several tonnes of luggage, fuel and machinery, to put my trust in one man who I have never met before and in fact will never meet at all, who might have just had a row with his wife, or downed several pints of beer, or fallen out with his boss. This tube will then, by some miracle of physics, lift into the air and fly, yes fly, at several hundred miles per hour, nearly 40,000 feet above the ground, for a few hours! Now, there is a clue to my favourite mode of transport in the website title – Two Blondes Walking. I think flying is a silly activity and we humans should stop with all this physics nonsense and remember what our feet are for! My lack of understanding for the logistics, mechanics and physics of flight is definitely partly to blame for my fear but I leave the science stuff to Little Miss Blonde who likes nothing better than a little lesson on gravity, velocity and all that technical stuff. Once I am up in the air I can usually cope with it all and blank out all thoughts of what is actually happening. Perhaps the in-flight shop is especially designed for Blondes like me as a distraction from the scary bits? I have flown many times in the past in a variety of different situations: with family, with friends, alone, long haul, short haul, in a small 8 seater, in a huge ‘double decker’, at night, through a storm, etc, etc. All flights have been the same: take off – nightmare, flying – ok as long as I don’t think too much, landing – better then take off. This flight was to prove the exception though, and I look forward to flying again to see if I am cured of my mini phobia! The key, I have discovered, to a happy flight is all in the mind. As I took my seat to await take off from Gatwick, I found myself sat next to one of our more calm, practical and sensible 16 year olds. I soon realised that as his leader, I could not lose face and show that I was scared of this flying business. I then proceeded to try my utmost to appear as calm and collected as he was – only to discover that I done such a good job of pretending that I actually convinced myself that I was fine! I didn’t quite manage to gaze out of the window but I definitely was not anywhere near as anxious as usual. Brilliant! The new found courage was thoroughly tested as the pilot announced while in French air space that we would need to return to Gatwick due to an air conditioning fault, to switch planes! (Good old Easyjet!) Yes, I (or the braver than me 16 year old) had cured my fears as the second take off that day was a piece of cake and even had me watching out of the window and wondering at the marvel of science as I watched the wings do their thing and watched terra firma slowly disappearing. So, from now on, I will either take a sensible 16 year old with me on a flight, or if that is impossible (most probably) I will convince myself that there is one sat next to me!