Flying Through Fear

“Stupid Tracy,” I whispered to myself as I tugged on my seatbelt for what felt like the hundredth time since I boarded this winged death trap, “Fear is nothing but an obsticle that stands in the way of our progress, thinking will not overcome it, but action will.”

“What does she know anyway?” I blurted out, heat rose to my cheeks as I glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention.

Lucky for me everyone in the vicinity seems to already be tuned in to the in flight movie or asleep. I went back to my mild obsessing, checking that my seatbelt is secure, reading the safety manual for the fifth time since the flight boarded; You know, normal fear triggered OCD behaviors.

Tracy has been my shrink for the last two years, she’s way better than the schmuck I had before but I still don’t know how she convinced me to go on this trip. Flying has never been my favorite experience but since my husband died five years ago in a plane crash I haven’t even been within ten miles of an airport. Until today, lucky for me I left the house hours beforehand because it took me at least an hour and a half to convince myself to park the car, and then just as long to step into the building and on the plane.

“Not a fan of flying, huh?” A male voice came from the seat behind me.

“Am I that obvious?” My grip on the arm rest tightened as I felt the plane start to head down the runway.

“I can sense a fellow kindred spirit when I see one.”

“Ah, you’re not a plane aficionado either.” My voice shook as the plane sped up getting ready for takeoff.

“Far from it, my therapist convinced me to go on this trip, gotta conquer my fears or sum like that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, “We really are kindred spirits.”

I felt the wheels lift off the runway and the ball of anxiety that had set up shop in my chest went plummeting to the pit of my stomach, hitting every organ on the way down. My chest tightened desperately trying to contain my lungs which were expanding and contracting at an alarming rate, whether they were fending off or firing up the impending anxiety attack I had no idea. Desperately I tried to remember any of the grounding techniques Tracy and I had spent the last few weeks working on in preparation for this momentous mistake of a trip but I was coming up short.

“What’s your favorite food?” The man spoke through a shaky breath.

For a split second my thoughts shifted from me plummeting to my death to a nice juicy cheeseburger and I leaned into the stranger's question, “Ch-ch-cheeseburgers” I managed to spit out followed by a timid, “You?”

“Mexican,” He huffed out, a little calmer than before, “What about music?”

I inhaled deeply, my breathing was starting to level and the anxiety that once filled my chest seemed to be fading slowly but surely. “That’s a tough one, you first.”

“Country, but I bet you coulda ‘bout guessed that one.”

It was only then that I noticed the twang in his voice, “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all, I live in El Paso. Had to drive ‘bout five hours to get here. You from here?”

“Technically I live just outside Albuquerque, I moved here from South Dakota about a year ago.”

We went on like that for a while, he didn’t dig into the reason for my move which I was grateful for. We tried to keep the conversation light, a few hours of small talk would normally bore me to tears but in this situation I welcomed it with open arms. We stuck to movies and books and I even let him ramble on about sports for a while. Anything to keep me out of my own head. Eventually I fell asleep and it wasn’t until the plane began to descend into Spain that I heard that southern drawl once more. Landing was far more terrifying than taking off, I was sure that when those wheels hit the runway we were going to roll over and burst into flames. But before I knew it we were successfully parked and I had survived my first flight since the incident.

It took me a while to find the strength to stand up, it was long after everyone else had exited the plane. Everyone but the southern gentleman that is. Finally the flight attendant came and gave us the boot. As I stood up I turned to finally put a face to the man behind me and I was surprised to see such a young man standing there, he couldn’t be a day over twenty-five. His face was covered in a neatly trimmed rich brown beard, and his dark eyes were hooded by an old ratty cap. He stood at least a foot taller than I did and after his initial analysis of me he flashed a smile that would make any girl go weak in the knees.

“Nice to put a face to a voice,” he smiled.

“Likewise,” I nodded, “I’m Daria by the way.”

“Nice to officially meet you Daria, I’m Nate.” He extended his hand out for a proper introduction.

“Well Nate,” -I pulled my bag out of the overhead compartment- “What brings you to spain?”

“I’ve got one more thing on my list of fear conquering tasks Ms. Daria, I’m here to run with the bulls.”

I froze for a moment, “Isn’t that dangerous?” I managed to ask.

“No more dangerous than this plane.” He slung his bag over his shoulders and paused waiting for me to begin our exit.

“So, how does one sign up to run with the bulls?”

I looked back to find him grinning ear to ear, “I was hopin’ you’d ask me that.”