In the last week I have been prone to panic. Not, as you may imagine, as a result of heavy deadlines, demanding clients nor thankfully month-end financial woes - my panic has been irrational. I'll save the exact details of the first two experiences for another note but last night's panic - while seated with a Burley Dan on one side, and the DC9 fuselage on the other, went something like this:
1Time airhostess says: "close doors and cross check" I'm a well traveled chap (admittedly usually in Business Class) so these four words barely register at my eardrum until yesterday when, to my panic-stricken brain, they sounded like: "As we take off let's fill the craft with flammable gas and fly into the nearest building!"
I had to talk myself down from running down the aisle screaming.
I've done one Yoga class recently where I learned the technique of breathing through one nostril as a way of cooling the body. I must check my notes because I was probably breathing through the wrong nostril as the technique not only alerted Burley Dan to my plight, but increased my body's boiling point further. I kept telling myself to think happy thoughts but as my heart sped and my stomach churned, desperation overcome me.
During panic the body flushes with adrenalin which, among other things, draws blood to vital areas preparing for the fight or flight response. I joked with myself that I was already in flight but that did nothing to calm me nor did the fact that I was on the wing, half way to either toilet should I require it in an absolutely emergency. Creative people such as I are blessed with Technicolor imaginations which is useful when trying to create excitement around a mundane brand but not useful at all when imagining all the things that could go wrong.
The 15 minutes it takes to be airborne and have the seatbelt lights off felt immeasurably long. I was out of my seat like 1Time and asked the airhostess for opium or some other drugs to calm me. Citing international drug law by way of refusal, she suggested that I sit at the back of the plane next to the toilet where it was cool(er) and roomi(er).
After the first hour I felt better but remained on my perch until told to return to my seat for the landing. The chap (on either side of Burley Dan and I) swapped seats so that I could sit on the aisle.
I was almost back to my disinterested self when concomitant to someone behind enquiring why the pilot was taking such a steep approach to the runway a gust of wind shook the plane.
Next time you have the urge to run down the aisle of an airplane screaming I recommend 1Time - they've seen it before.