How I Survive Air Travel

I am probably one of the worst travelers I know. As much as I want to portray the sophisticated jetsetter, I know I look more like the nervous 12 year old clutching the in-flight barf bag. I have flown five times in my life so far, the first when I was 10 on my way to Disney World in Florida. I remember not feeling an ounce of fear, completely carefree, and I was on my way to Disney World as a 10-year-old girl. Obviously, I had more exciting things to think about like Magic Kingdom and Disney Princesses, duh. Sidenote: I hate Disney World. I know I’m a horrible person.

It wasn’t until I got older that I cultivated paranoia about literally everything, not just flying. I am not a fan of roller coasters or adrenaline rushes, it’s just really not my thing, and I am slowly becoming okay with that. It’s not that I don’t like a little adventure, just not the free-falling plunging into a mechanical abyss at 100 mph kind of adventure. I listened to a discussion in one of my graduate classes about social movements and the people that willingly and almost idealistically participate. The professor made an interesting observation that many people in my generation cohort cultivated a less trusting almost scared view of the world. We have far more access to stories of violence in America and around the world through the media; it’s no wonder why some people, like myself, have a difficult time coming out of their comfort zone. I definitely think I’ve projected those anxieties into flying, driving places I’m not familiar with and other random life things.

For the past two years, I focused on lessening my anxiety and nervousness through exercising and practicing yoga. Like the terrible slacker that I am, I haven’t practiced yoga in months and I’m not happy about it. I plan on changing that in my last few months of graduate school and into the summer. But, I still employ most of the breathing techniques and small exercises before bed to relax. (I calmed myself out of losing my lunch on my short trip to Philly last summer. Small plane. Lot’s of turbulence on our descent, and I forgot to take my motion sickness pills, which I take on almost every flight. TMI maybe?)

In a few days, I’m off to Mexico my best friend. We are staying at a resort in Puerto Morelos, not too far from Cancun. Even though it is my Spring Break from school, this is not a typical Spring Break vacation. I’m hoping to have a relaxing time getting some much needed vitamin D and maybe go on a few excursions to the Mayan Ruins and Playa del Carmen and hoping to avoid the “Spring Breakers” at all costs. This is my first trip to Mexico and my second out of the United States. In May, I’m on my way to Italy, so I’m using this flight south of the border to give me some encouragement for my larger voyage across the Atlantic. I write this as if I’m crossing the Atlantic in a freaking canoe. Like I said, I’m working on it…

Kind of like that saying “Just rip it off like a bandaid” or however that goes. I force myself, you know, the more you do something the easier it becomes. I always try to remind myself that I’m safer in the plane than I am during my drive to school in the mornings. The thing is, once the plane is in the air, I’m totally fine, if I take my motion sickness pills of course. I know a few friends and family members who fly 2-3 times per month and flying does not faze them whatsoever. Hopefully by the time I’ve become a “frequent flyer” and have traveled the world I won’t feel anxious before traveling at all. I need to work on getting to that level, but if I don’t at least I have methods to employ that get me through my time on the plane. After all, I’m not making the trip to sit on the plane for a few hours. If only we could teleport places. It’s 2015, that should be a thing by now, right?

Photos by me.