You could be forgiven for wondering what the big deal was; many hundreds of thousands of people take to the skies every day. But for some reason no matter how often I fly I can feel perspiration on my lips, oozing out the palms of my hands.
Cold sweat trickles down my back and my leg trembles ‘rap a tap tap’ to its own rhythm. I struggle to sleep, and if I do it’s lightly. My tummy feels like I have been on a roller coaster.
Science says flying is safe, statistics say that you are more likely to die on the road, but for some reason I can never quite get over this niggling fear.
I don’t like to boast but I feel like an intelligent, well rounded young woman. I present well to the world, my blue eyes sparkle, my teeth are so white they shine and I am petite enough to be either noticeable or not.
I wear my clothes, not the other way round, and with a little blusher on my cheeks and bright red lips I feel like dynamite on legs.
I did okay at school, my reports would always say ‘Clever, but imagine what could be achieved if Lasiandra just put more effort in’.
It’s a problem that hasn’t changed, I do what I need to, I do it on time, but I don’t do any more than that. Life’s fun, it’s a whirlwind; my motto is it’s here to be enjoyed.
The adventure of travelling across vast oceans to discover new countries and cultures drives something deep within me. Perhaps I am a voyeuristic learner, not a solid ‘A’ student who presents well in the classroom.
Deep reflection won’t change the present. I landed the job of my dreams, the pay is good if not amazing, the perks are uncountable and I get to meet dozens of new people every hour of every day.
I get to glimpse into a moment in people’s lives. They come across my path and some are excited, some are fearful and a few are burdened with grief and look through me and not at me.
It’s not all perfect, but the fun outweighs the bad and if my hands continue to clam up for the rest of my life and my teeth chatter then I can’t see…. I don’t want a different future.
I look wistfully out the window. What a pretty horizon, I always love the light in the morning and the world appears so fresh. Dew glistens over everything and the warming earth lets off steam like its sighing.
Bing. I inhale, sharply, rub my palms on my skirt. Raise hands to my hair and make sure it’s perfect. Pop go my lips, making my lipstick stick and click goes my seatbelt. Over the system “Ladies and Gentlemen the in-flight service is about to begin”.
Oh how I love my job. I just wish I wasn’t petrified of flying.
Writing order: Sumanda Maritz (S. Africa), Roseyn (Aus), Ken Burns (NZ), Jasmine Groves (Aus), Griffin (Aus), Hemali Ajmera (India) Suraya Dewing (NZ), Ray Stone (Cyprus), Joe Labrum (USA), Angela Shaw (NZ)