“I'm learning to fly
But I ain't got wings
Coming down
Is the hardest thing…” – Tom Petty from “Learning To Fly”
I’m not sure when IT started.
My guess is maybe sometime around 1999 or so on a trip to New York City. I don’t recall feeling anything other than exhilaration and excitement drifting among the clouds, with the wings of a giant aircraft steadily pushing through high winds, storms, and turbulence.
The “IT” that I’m referring to is my fear of flying.
For years I didn’t admit this to anyone other than my wife. As years went on, I began to open up about my fears. And like so many other things, at this stage in my life, I am a full-blown open book, willing to discuss my fears and emotions, because I now know that true strength lies in being aware of one’s own vulnerability.
Yes, it was definitely that trip to New York.
I had loved flying up until that point. Back then pre-911, airplane travel and airports were easy. You could show up minutes before your flight and with the right persuasive tone, talk yourself through security and right up to the gate. I used to joke with my wife, that I could fly anywhere in the world if I wanted to without a ticket. I fully believed in my gift of gab and my persuasive skills.
Yes, flying was something that I thoroughly enjoyed.
I never considered any danger (it truly is safer than driving), actually enjoyed turbulence, and partied many times before getting on a plane in ways that I would never do now (don’t ask). But that all changed with one red-eye to JFK.
The plane was packed with mostly New Yorkers; loud, demonstrative, joking, and drinking. I settled in for the flight ready to enjoy my music with my Sony CD Walkman player, thinking of my next adventure in New York City. I was moving to the Big Apple to live with my Brother and immerse myself in the arts and entertainment world the city offered.
Midway through the flight after the plane had quieted down and the flight attendants finished their drink and food service, we hit a rough patch of air. The plane shook and dipped (a lot), and the New Yorkers being New Yorkers began to scream and panic. This lasted for the remainder of the flight (I’m really oversimplifying, but this is not the point of this piece). Their fears somehow crept into my own psyche. I didn’t panic or scream, but by the time we landed, I was resolute in my stance: I would never fly again.
I explained to my Brother and one of his best friends what happened. They laughed, but I was serious. Fast forward a couple of years after a few cross-country Amtrak trips (yep, I was a sleeper car guy… sometimes), and I was living in Harlem with my Brother again (I’m a gypsy). September 11, 2001 happened and I was there. My then-girlfriend, Erica, now wife and baby momma was supposed to fly back to L.A. later that afternoon. On her flight to NYC, she had a harrowing flight that had to be diverted to Denver. She called me unsure if she could continue and I told her it would be okay if she didn’t come. She decided to brave it out. I can tell you with unequivocal doubt that my ass would’ve gotten on a Greyhound bus and gone back to L.A.
She was clearly braver than me.
911 changed everyone’s life and flying became a non-option for many. I was already part of that brigade and the tragedy only strengthened my resolve to never fly again.
Until we got married the following year and our honeymoon was in Jamaica.
I braved it out, but the whole time we were there, I couldn’t help but think about the flight home. Would I be okay? Would I be able to manage the 6-hour flight back with my wife? Obviously, I toughed it out, but I hated it. A few months later we had to take a trip to Charleston, and it was the same thing. I got panicky thinking about the flight home.
My pre-flight thoughts were stifling. Gone was the happy-go-lucky attitude of “whatever” and now I dealt with the “Is this how it ends?” If it sounds bleak and tragic it was. But it was just beginning.
When our 2nd son was born we went back to Charleston. Same thing. 3rd son, same thing. I didn’t fly unless I absolutely, positively had to. Okay, I lie, I frequently took flights to Vegas, but they were only 45 minutes at most, and going and coming from Vegas is normally a blur for anyone. Oh, and I flew on a private jet to San Fran too, though I nearly tried to disappear into my seat, while trying to look cool.
But things really changed when I started working for the AVP Pro Beach Volleyball Tour. Flying became part of my job and I had two choices. Fly or quit. Every weekend during the summer months we traveled somewhere it seemed. I got more comfortable with flying, but I never loved it. I loathed flying to Miami (South Beach), New York, Spokane (during the winter one year), and so many other places. I smiled and tried to talk on flights, but secretly my heart was racing, my palms were wet as if I had gone swimming, and I felt like I could barely swallow.
This was no way to fly.
And so when I left the AVP and embarked on my entrepreneurial career, I promised myself I would never do it again.
I lied to myself.
A few more cross-country train rides (took longer to get there than I actually stayed), a couple of more flights that I simply couldn’t avoid, and in the end, I was officially not flying anymore.
I remember watching John Madden talk about his fear of flying and he said that he kept having this thought that he wanted to rip his seat belt off and open the door and get off. When I heard that, I realized that those were some of my exact thoughts. It sounds so bizarre and dare I say insane to even think like that, but Madden and I both knew that our mental toughness wasn’t flight ready.
I know I’ve taken a cruciferous route to get you here, but I felt that it was important to show that I wasn’t always afraid of flying and I wasn’t a first-time flyer.
So saddled with this crippling fear of flying I allowed myself to slowly fade into myself and avoid trips that required flights. The end result was my missing out on far too much. I had grandiose ideas for my 50th birthday, but fear handcuffed me and I backed out of all my plans with my friends. Family vacation? If we couldn’t drive, I didn’t want to go. Weddings, funerals, Homecomings, fraternity gatherings, and parties. I gave in to my fear and allowed myself to miss them all.
There were many close calls. Tickets purchased. Hotels reserved. Plans made. But they all ended the same way, I would back out.
Some of my closest friends knew about my issue. As I got older I began to open up about my fear, but my friends being my friends laughed at it. They called me “B.A. Baracus” after Mr. T.’s character from the popular 80’s show, “The A-Team.” B.A. hated to fly and his counterparts would secretly sedate him to get him on a plane. Maybe that’s where my fear originated. I laughed at the jokes and happily made fun of myself, but inside I didn’t want to be afraid anymore.
Like most people, I set goals for myself at the beginning of the year. I decided without much thought or pomp and circumstance that I would conquer my fear of flying this year. It was the first goal that I wrote down and it was the first time that I ever expressed this aloud. I put it in my desk drawer, along with my other goals, and left it there.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family and that’s ultimately what happened. My son who runs track at San Jose State had a track Meet in New Mexico, and though I had rejoiced when we had to cancel the trip the first time, I knew that I had to get on that flight and go see him run.
Not so fast my friend.
Two days before our scheduled flight, I booked a train ticket on Amtrak. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready (though it had been 3 weeks after the original scheduled trip cancellation). I needed mental preparation. I asked my wife to ride with me on the train and she said, “Hell no.” I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt like I was letting myself down. What would my kids think? Was I just going to let my wife fly alone and I ride 16 hours on a train???? I woke up feeling like I needed to cancel the train trip, but couldn’t do it.
God must’ve called Amtrak, because they sent me an email 2 hours before the train was scheduled to leave to tell me that my trip had been canceled “due to service disruption.”
WTH!
I was stuck. Either I was going on the flight or I was going to stay home and not surprise my son at the biggest Meet of his college career to date. I settled my mind. Resolved. Pulled my goals from my drawer and read them again. My entire life I had confronted so many of my fears and encouraged others to do the same. I was fearless by most accounts and someone who seemed to enjoy life to the fullest. And I did. Except here. But thinking about it now, I realized that my fear of flying had seeped into so many other parts of my life.
I was afraid of living.
I got on the flight, though my wife wasn’t sure I would make it. It was one of the smallest planes ever made, but there was no turning back. I had already known its size prior to boarding anyway. As we took off, I closed my eyes and settled down. The champagne kicked in (had to have a little something to settle the nerves), and I thought about how happy my Son would be. I smiled to myself and eventually opened the window and marveled at the wonder of technology. To be able to float among the clouds. It was a beautiful day. The flight was relatively short. When we landed I was drained by years of pent-up fear. It was slowly being released and it was taxing.
As we walked through the airport, I couldn’t help but think of the trip home. I would have to saddle up again. But it felt different this time. After a great time seeing our boy, we headed home. In the middle of a heavy wind and snowstorm (yep) that was hitting Southern California. But surprisingly, it wasn’t bad.
I received texts from each one of my sons expressing their pride in me and in what I’d overcome.
I’m still a work in progress, but I’m ready. I’m happy to be learning to fly all over again and I have places to go.
Ayinde...I enjoyed reading your article. I was surprised, though, to learn that you were afraid to fly. I never thought that before. Throughout life, we all have fears, and we learn to deal with them. Like you did, you had to keep trying in moderation. I admire you for being steadfast and conquerable.
Flying is just a thing in our heads that seem impossible, but after awhile, yes, it's fun. Keep flying high.
I had no idea of your fear of flying! A mama ought to know those things, right? I too had never flown until I was probably thirty-four years old. Michael came home one day excited to tell me that one of his suppliers had given him a cruise for two out of Miami. To quote him, "I have been awarded a cruise for two. We will fly to Miami and cruise from there, and I'm giving you first option." And the rest is history.