I can't believe that it's December. I literally couldn't tell you where this year has gone. Looking at the calendar reminded me that I have just over a week til I go on holiday which would get anyone excited except me because now I've got that sick feeling I get in my stomach when I remember that I have to get on a plane.
I'm not sure at what point I became so nervous about flying. It never really bothered me that much until about two or three years ago and I know that it's nothing to do with a fear of terrorism or 9/11 or anything like that. It's just this innate feeling that at some point (this year, next year...who knows?), the plane I'm travelling in will crash. Just blow up mid-air like that scene in Final Destination. Or worse still, nosedive into the Atlantic Ocean...with me fully conscious to experience every nano-second.
So what I'm doing now is the same thing I do leading up to every flight: I prepare myself for it happening. I watch Air Crash Investigation to check out how other planes have crashed. I look up plane crash stats (don't EVER fly Aeroflot, promise me that). I find graphs that show what stage of the flight you're most likely to crash in. Even on the flight itself, I insist on a window seat so I can be the one that notices the left engine on fire or the plumes of black smoke. If I'm going out, I at least want to get a good view.
In most situations in life, preparation is the key; it gets you ready, it makes you more confident etc etc. The thing is though, even with the checklist above ticked three times over, I'm still shitting my pants. Funny, that.