London Evening Standard
I CURED MY FEAR OF FLYING by Melanie Cable-Alexander
Air travel terrifies some people, so what is the best way to beat this common phobia?
Take it from me, you would not have wanted to be seated next to me on an aeroplane until a few months ago. From the moment I used to get on board, I would become deranged and irrational because I was absolutely petrified of being in the air. At the slightest bump, I trembled; at the minutest wing-dip, I would gasp and grab my seat. My palms were sweaty, I’d keep a beady eye on the air hostesses in case I could read disaster in their eyes and I would try desperately not to move too much so that I didn’t upset the balance of the plane.
When I finally reached my destination, I would be so exhausted that it would take a full 24 hours for me to recover - forget jet-lag, I suffered from terror-lag. It was a ridiculous state to be in, I know, especially when the rational side of me was fully aware that it is safer to travel on an aeroplane than in a car.
Absurdly, for an individual who was so terrified of flying, I adored travelling. I used to be the travel editor of a weekly magazine, I liked holidaying in the sun and, to cap it all, my sister lived in Italy. That meant I was on a plane roughly twice a month.
But the problem was that the more I travelled - especially after 9/11 - the more petrified I became. And as the fear increased I required extra help to overcome my nerves. A combination of diazepam and booze was, I discovered, my perfect pre-flight tonic, though I admit that was hardly the best approach since I often had to travel with my five-year-old son, Jasper. So, a few months ago, in time for my summer escape to Milan, I concluded that I must conquer my phobia by facing it head on. In short, I must fly a plane.
I set off for Virtual Aviation, a company which for the past year has helped nervous flyers by offering tailor-made sessions at Heathrow and Gatwick airports in flight simulators normally used to train pilots.
First, I needed to work out where my fear had come from. A series of questions revealed that what had started it was a short, bumpy flight I took 15 years ago to Geneva.
Then came stage two. To most people, a simulator may represent state-of-the-art technology and cost in the region of £10 million to build, but to me it was nothing more than a large tin can on six hydraulic legs in which I was going to be sealed like a sardine for an agonising hour withy my down-to-earth Australian pilot, Jack Stone.
First Jack explained how a plane flies. He talked about my pet hate, turbulence, and said that while passengers may sense the plane bobbing up and down tens of feet, the movement was actually much less.
He then showed me a photograph of a plane being tested to its limits. “Look,” he urged, “the wings are so flexible that they will not snap until they are nearly in a vertical position.” I was so tense, I could barely focus on the picture.
My legs felt weak as we entered the simulator. I inhaled deeply as I crossed the drawbridge and sat down shakily behind the co-pilot, Keith. Someone pointed to a bucket by my side in case I needed to be sick - “No one has ever used it,” they announced reassuringly. Jack completed his final checks and we were off, thundering down the “runway” and into the “air”.
It was hard to believe that we were not in a real plane. But then I am not normally talked through every noise, bounce or bump, or indeed given the controls.
I took off and landed twice, flew into Geneva airport, negotiated several severe bouts of turbulence, and landed in fog. Well, actually the pilot did, but I was in the co-pilot’s seat and allowed to press some of the buttons. “Are you okay?” I was constantly asked. “We can stop at any moment if you are scared,” I was reassured. But I was flying - literally - and there was no need.
I emerged an hour later feeling like pioneer aviator Amy Johnson must have after she made her solo flight from England to Australia. I had tackled some of my most major fears. I was ready for anything, I declared in the debriefing session afterwards: “I will never feel the same again.”
Ten days later and I was ready for my flight to Milan. As the day dawned, I suffered none of my normal pre-flight nerves. While on board I took myself mentally back to the flight simulator every time I felt a hint of nervousness. The technique worked and I had none of my normal dread of turbulence. In fact, I enjoyed it.
I have flown several times since and felt none of the horror that used to overwhelm me. My sister says I am now a completely different person when flying. I have had a panic attack or two, but I am no longer the kind of nutter who you would change your flight to avoid.
Reproduced from the London Evening Standard, 5th August 2003.
