I glanced anxiously around as I waited to board the airplane.  All around the airport people were scurrying to their terminals and checking their watches.  Apparently they were concerned about missing their flight.  I almost laughed at the irony: I’d been praying the whole three hour ride to the airport that we’d get lost and arrive too late to take the scheduled flight from K.C, Missouri to Miami, Florida.  Sure I’d flown in an airplane before, but only before I was old enough to be aware of all the deadly crashes and explosions that steadily haunted the air travel community.  And aware I definitely was as I stood nervously at the gate.  For what seemed like the millionth time, I found myself wishing that a familiar face were there to accompany me.  But that wasn’t the case.  And I knew that no one I knew was going to magically appear at my side.  I was all alone.  I was going to be alone for the next four hours with a plane full of perfect strangers, barreling at 300 miles per hour towards the southeastern coast, over 30,000 feet above life as I knew it.
 As I inched through the tunnel that led to the plane entrance, I hesitated and thought briefly about retreating back to the safety of the airport terminal.  But I quickly pushed the childish thought out of my head and scolded myself for being so silly.  I wasn’t going to turn and run anywhere.  I was almost to the plane, and I was determined to get on it.
 I handed my boarding pass to a tall brunette attendant wearing a professional-looking uniform and a smile that was warm and welcoming as she directed me to my designated seat.
 As I made my way down the narrow aisle, I realized just how compact the plane actually was.  I slid into my chair, wondering how in the world they managed to squeeze so many people onto such a tiny aircraft.  I nervously adjusted my carry on bags and fumbled with my space age seatbelt until I finally figured out how to securely fasten it.  When I looked up, I noticed that the plane had rapidly filled up with fellow travelers.  Shocked at the number of people around me, I began to feel like a sardine crammed into a tiny can.  Suddenly, I was claustrophobic.  But it was too late to try to escape.  The captain’s commanding baritone voice had come crackling over the intercom and was informing us that we were cleared for take off.
 A wave of fear rushed over me.  I gripped the arm rests so tightly that my knuckles began to turn white as snow.  Abruptly, I felt the plane lurch forward haltingly as it began to taxi towards the runway.  Soon, we were accelerating at an incredible rate.  I gritted my teeth as I felt the pressure of the g-forces pressing my head firmly against my headrest.  Slowly the nose of the plane began to tilt skywards.  The plane trembled violently and a terrifying rumble echoed in my ears.  I felt as if I was caught in the middle of a massively destructive earthquake.  My stomach began to churn out of complete terror, and I felt my blood run cold as ice through my veins.  My heart pounded as loud as thunder.  It was beating so hard; it felt as if a twenty-pound sledgehammer was being slammed repeatedly into my chest.
 Finally, we had ascended and had begun to coast easily through the foggy twilight.  I tried desperately to focus on the flight attendant that was explaining the proper emergency procedures, but it was no use.  My palms were growing damp with nervous sweat and chills were creeping slowly up and down my spine.  I leaned back in my oversized chair and tried to concentrate on making my newfound claustrophobia disappear.  I glanced out the window and noticed a strange whistling noise coming from behind me.  It sounded almost like a vacuum with turbo suction had been turned on.  Horrified, I realized there must be a crack somewhere along one of the windows, which was slowly depleting our oxygen supply.  For one quick, panic-stricken moment, I thought for sure I was suffocating.  The plane spun wildly around as I gasped for air.  My lungs felt tight, as if an iron band were squeezing the oxygen from them.  No, I suddenly realized.  I couldn’t possibly be choking.  Everyone else on the aircraft was breathing perfectly normal.  Very slowly, my head began to clear and I discovered that the whistling sound was coming from a cold air nozzle behind me, turned on by an uncomfortably warm passenger.
 Feeling completely ridiculous for having had such illogical notions, I decided to accept a drink from an attendant who was making her way down the aisle.  I almost felt relaxed as I requested seltzer water to help tie up the remaining butterflies that fluttered in my stomach.  Watching the calm, pleasant manner of the stewardess, I began to feel like I could actually enjoy the flight.
 As she poured my drink, I forced myself to think about something else.  I vaguely detected the wonderful aroma of Salisbury steak.  Suddenly I was starved.  I craned my neck and caught a glimpse of a second stewardess carefully pushing a meal cart behind the first class curtain.  Yes, I was definitely beginning to relax.
 I was sipping my cool water, waiting impatiently for my meal, when suddenly, the plane began to jerk and lurch up and down.  Startled, my plastic cup flew from my hand and bounced at my feet.  Food was forgotten as I threw my arms around the seat in front of me and whipped my head down, assuming the crash position.  As the plane shook and jolted around, I began praying for my life.  Hot tears stung my eyes and threatened to overflow in the chaos, but I quickly blinked them back.  Panicking would do no good.  In my imagination, we were plummeting straight towards the earth, a million miles below.  My heart seemed to leap into my throat and thousands of tiny goose bumps began to rise  up on my arms and legs.  My entire body was trembling and felt numb with fear.  Feeling completely helpless, I wondered what was going to happen next.
 A moment later, my questions were answered as the captain began to speak over the intercom, once again.  I prepared myself for the news that we were going to crash.  But, to my astonishment, the captain’s voice was calm and easy.  He apologetically informed us that we were experiencing some temporary turbulence, and it would be over within seconds.
 Dumbstruck, I lifted my head and glanced around in humiliation.  All over, people were staring at me; some sympathetic, some amused.  Feeling sillier than ever, I sat back in my seat.  I took several slow deep breaths in attempt to settle my unruly nerves.  The elderly passenger next to me offered his thick cotton blanket, remarking that I looked like I could use it.  Gratefully, I accepted it and wrapped it warmly around me.  I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and vowed not to open them until we landed in Miami.  I had never been so unbelievably exhausted or embarrassed.
 The next thing I knew passengers all around me were rising to their feet and pushing past me.  My eyes flew open and I realized that we had landed at last.  I’d slept through the remainder of the flight!
 As if in a daze, I made my way off of the airplane.  I was immediately greeted by my family, who insisted on knowing how my flight had gone.  How was my flight?  I had never been more terrified in my whole life!  But I wasn’t about to let anyone know that.  After all, I reasoned, the worst was over.  I’d made it safely to my destination and I’d somewhat overcome a terrible fear.  I knew that my next air travel experience would be much easier.  Still, I couldn’t lie.  So when questions inevitably arose about my flight, I simply smiled and declared that, next time, I would take the bus.

Krista Rae Depperschmidt
Sept  4 1999