It's a bird! It's a plane! No!! It's Pteromerhanophobia Girl!

That's right. I have a "fear of flying". Not the 'Erica Jong' kind. The 'fly on an airplane' kind. I hate it. Absolutely. Utterly. Flying with me is always an adventure. It's just not an adventure most want to have. So, I take Valium (two). And drink vodka (three). And my poor husband gets to keep most of the skin on his forearm intact. Works for both of us.

Consciously, I know this is an irrational fear. I know I have a better chance of being injured in an auto accident or struck by lightning or hell....even winning the PowerBall than dying in a plane crash. Doesn't matter. I still don't like to fly. I am bothered by hurtling 30 some odd thousand feet above the earth at 700 miles per hour without a cigarette or a parachute. Or even a last meal. Because honey-roasted almonds do not count.

On a trip from San Francisco to Las Vegas many years ago we lost 5000 feet in altitude very quickly with no warning due to a wind shear or some such weather phenomenon. Whatever. All I know is... I was in the middle of debating an upcoming mayoral election with a Republican compadre instead of listening to the stewardess (yes, that is what they were called way back then) explaining the "in case of emergency" crap.So when the oxygen mask dropped from the ceiling (I do believe mine hit me in the forehead), I sat there staring at it and gasping for breath like a beached walleye. I honestly had no idea how to save my own life. Comforting. Several minutes later when we landed at McCarran International, we did so clear out on some seldom used runway where we exited the plane from what seemed at the time to be a rather rickety set of aluminum stairs. And all the while, fire engines and ambulances sat flashing their lights at us from below. After that, flying just lost its' appeal.

So my therapist (as if it is any shock that I see one?) says she is going to 'work with me' to overcome this fear. Apparently, I will learn "visualization techniques" to help me deal with my upcoming flight to Las Vegas and the apprehension it causes me. I do not hold out much hope for this ...hmm...hooey. No offense to anyone who practices alternative medicinal practices. It's just that panting and imagining "a happy place" never did me any good at all while I was in labor. But when the anesthesiologist finally showed up and shot an elephant tranquilizer into my spinal column, I gotta say, it sure dulled the pain. (In fact, I spent the remainder of the afternoon before my first son was born alternately napping or poking at my upper thighs with a pair of tweezers because I just could not believe it didn't hurt to do so.)

So, I have a back-up plan. My physician, who obviously loves me despite my myriad of faults, wrote me a prescription for Valium and the kind pharmacist folks at Super Target filled it for me just the other day. I will take two small, blue pills while I ride the shuttle to the terminal and by the time they get around to the beverage service in flight I should be just relaxed enough to order a double Bloody Mary. Happy trails to me!