I ALMOST MISSED THE PLANE [3/3]- From improbable avoidance strategies to therapies of all kinds, our journalist continues his fight to triumph over the phobia of air travel. After a “Tame the plane” course, attempt to board a non-stop flight… to Tokyo!
Let’s be honest, the two weeks that separated the Air France “Taming the Airplane” course from takeoff for Japan made me largely doubt the effectiveness of the latter. With the certainty of doom still in my mind, I made frantic phone calls to determine who, among our friends, would inherit the cat. I started sending lunar text messages to the few courageous people who still dared to inquire about my mental state: “Haven’t cried since yesterday! », “Haven’t cried in 3 hours! (smiley raising his arms in victory).”
It is an understatement to say that the unpacking of my aviophobia in the columns of Figaro entertained those around me to the highest degree. The mention of the loss of the passport a few days before takeoff notably sparked torrents of hilarity, accompanied by inspired comments: “So, are we trying to escape the crash test?“. Haha, we laugh. The jokes increased in response to my crestfallen expression when I received the new one, four days before departure. Destiny had therefore not decided to spare me.
The day before the big jump, I went, resigned, to beg for anxiolytics from my doctor. Although I forced myself, as a zealous trainee, to listen to a guided relaxation recording every evening, I had an intuition that it would not be enough in the event of a possible panic attack at 11,000 meters of altitude. Shaking the little plastic tube like a maraca, I observed it carefully then carefully placed it in the transparent pouch that would accompany me to the cabin, praying that it would prove useless.
Mourning a wheel
Fifteen hours later, I walked through the doors of terminal 2E at Roissy-Charles-de-Gaulle for the first time in ten years. Apart from the army of self-service check-in kiosks seeming to take pleasure in torturing busy travelers, nothing has really changed. Also faithful to the appointment, my incomprehension at the carelessness of travelers, apparently more concerned about the opening hours of duty-free than about their survival. Immediate surge of anxiety. I would still have held out until our luggage disappeared on the magic carpet to discreetly swallow a small quarter of Lexomil.
What follows is the interminable wait for boarding, giving me the opportunity to make two overwhelming observations at a single glance: the weather is terrible and our plane is a Boeing 777. I try to remembering the pilot’s responses to my anxious questions during the course. “ The triple 7? Very safe, the problems are on the 737 Max! “. Yeah. You might as well start right away to mourn the loss of a wheel. After all, wasn’t it shown to me in the simulator that a plane could overcome the majority of its damages? Anyway, the call has just gone out.
As we advance in single file, the carpet passes beneath our feet. In a few meters, we will have left the umbilical cord that still connects us to dry land. At the end, in the doorway of the plane, the hostess welcomes us. I look down and, on the ground, we can see the end of the walkway behind us. That’s it, I’ve put my foot in the beast. Fighting back my tears, I walk forward, find my place and sit down. The advice I received suddenly came back to me: listen to a relaxation recording again, start a film. And above all breathe. Now is the time to think again about the simplicity of takeoffs in the simulator, the pilots’ endless checklists and the imperturbable serenity of the cabin crew (PNC).
“A jet stream of nothing at all”
And suddenly, the dreaded sentence: “Prepare for takeoff“. I close my eyes while, in my ears, the sophrologist continues to affirm that I am relaxed. Pressed against the backrest, I breathe slowly and… it’s over, we’re flying, and it’s exactly the same sensation as that of the simulator. Oddly enough, I’m not really afraid anymore, a form of euphoria comes over me. I did it. That is done ! This is the moment that the cabin manager chooses to come and introduce himself. He knows that I have done the anti-stress course, it is specified on his iPad, he promises that they will take good care of me and guarantees me that everything will go well. Inexplicably, I believe it.
The flight lasted almost 14 hours, and for the first time, I didn’t try to interpret the slightest noise, I didn’t even listen for them. I kept my headphones on and caught up on a year of movie outings. I even slept and slept! You do not realize. To be completely transparent, at the end of the eleventh hour, ten minutes of turbulence temporarily put an end to my relaxation. Maybe a tear slipped down my cheek. Maybe even a steward immediately grilled me and came to brush aside my fears: “We are crossing a jet stream of nothing at all!“.
What is certain is that when I landed in Tokyo, I felt proud, and above all liberated. I actually sent a photo of the airport’s ultra-technological toilets to half of my phone book to celebrate the moment. Better, at the end of the Japanese stay, if I was still dreading the return, my fears evaporated again once in the air. Here again, the cabin crew were aware of my presence and regularly came to ensure my survival in a hostile environment. Not the slightest tear on the way back. Not one.
Far be it from me to claim to be cured: I will never be relaxed at the idea of flying – which continues to seem perfectly absurd to me. But I can now take a plane without breaking out in an ulcer or turning around at the airport, and I have to admit that the internship has a lot to do with it. I just hope I haven’t used all my karma cartridges in this story and that there are a few left for my next flight (I don’t want to hear anything, I have an excellent carbon footprint). Afterwards, I will have had my dose for this year… Any more, it would be delicious.
TO LISTEN – Advice from a former pilot to stop being afraid of flying
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