Nervous Flyer

I didn't know I was a nervous flyer the first few times I was on airplanes. My first was a trip west to visit a friend working at a resort in Colorado. I followed every word of the steward's safety speech in rapt attention, shocked that everyone else on the plane was ignoring him and seemingly so carefree about their personal safety. I white-knuckled it through turbulence the whole way and got off the plane with sore hands and forearms from gripping the armrests. My friend asked how the flight went and I said "great" because it hadn't crashed, my only barometer for how good or bad a flight had gone. It wasn't until a year or more later that I realized some people work, sleep, or just read books while soaring through the air at 500mph, and that's when I recognized that I'm a nervous flyer. The only thing that really calms me is seeing someone way more nervous than me. It grounds you, so to speak. I like to think that I've been that way-more-nervous-person for many other people. It's my public service.

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