Early Morning Rum and the Smell of Fear
Now just let me take a moment to explain, to set the scene so to speak. I am a nervous flyer as dozens of complete strangers the world over will attest. To the Malaysian businessman who flew with me from Bangkok to Ho Chi Minh City in '98, I apologise vehemently for the scratch-marks. At least flesh wounds heal. To the Captain on the same flight, mild turbulence my ass. But for the petite Thai Lady boy who decided to join me in my courage enhancing, vodka downing binge at Singapore's Changi Airport earlier that same year, I can only pray you regained full function of your body's vital organs. The world must seem such a cruel place from the confines of an iron lung. And to those of you among us who find being thrust down the tarmac by four kick ass jet engines a thrill, I truly envy you, the world must seem such a small place.
Having said all that, my phobia of flying has not yet stopped me from stepping onto a plane, for that I guess I should be truly thankful. I've met dozens of nervous flyers in my time and all have their own little tips, tricks, drugs and cures, from Valium to herbal remedies to sleeping pills. But if you believe the documentaries, airport bars the world over are full of nervous flyers, downing just one last shot of courage before facing their phobia full on. It's the number one cure by the length of the home straight. And as far as cures go, it sure as hell works for me.
The morning of the flight I meticulously mix a couple of bottles of coke with my spirit of choice. Then, about three or four hours before the estimated time of departure I'll start sipping. Rather unfortunate for those eight a.m. flights but a remedy is a remedy and if I gotta be drunk at six a.m. so be it. The fear doesn't disappear but it becomes noticeably numbed to the point where when I step on board, I feel slightly in control. I never feel great about the situation and my stomach churns and my palms sweat tiny rivers but I'm there and on my way. I know exactly where the barf bag is and I always ensure I have a window seat - kinda strange that looking at the ground disappearing at a rate of 20 metres a second reassures me in a perverse sort of way, but there you go. But all that was about to change for I was about to discover the one thing that truly gave me confidence whilst stuck in a metal tube hurtling along at the speed of sound five miles in the air. For I was with the Kid.
