Egypt Air

By the time I arrived in Bangkok, I was all jumbled up in my mind. On the one hand, I was happy to be leaving Pattaya and I was excited to arrive in Barcelona and see my friend Jordi, who I had not seen in a number of years. On the other hand, leaving Thailand meant that the bulk of my traveling, particularly my no-plan-do-whatever-I-want sort of traveling, was pretty much over. It hit me as I ate crappy mandu in the airport that I was leaving Asia. I had been in Asia for over a year, and while I had not been in Thailand for a year, something felt significant about leaving this part of the world. It was bittersweet in that I was excited to see the people who were back home but also it was hard to grasp that it was all coming to an end. How can it really be over, I thought.

Not without a fight.

My luggage was 10 kg beyond the limit for Egyptian Air and the few hundred dollars they were trying to charge me was definitely not going to happen. So, I found a quiet corner of the airport and proceeded to throw away a close to 20 lbs worth of my belongings.

It is amazing what one can part with when faced with a hefty fine.

Basically all of my clothing

Laptop fan tray

Shoes

Ok, it isn’t so much when I put it in list form but remembering that most of the weight I shed was in the form of clothing. I had two rolling pieces of luggage and I left Thailand with one full piece and one totally empty.

The woman at check in laughed and told me that I threw away a few extra pounds and that if I wanted to I could go dig some things out of the trash. I told her that I didn’t care, and further some of the cables and battery packs / chargers I threw away might set off some sort of bomb scare when security found them and I didn’t want to be associated with that particular trash more than I already was.

This flight was the one I was most worried for. I never like flying and this goes beyond the normal phobia. At best I am a nervous wreck and at worst I am all read, sweaty, and having a panic attack while these Final Destination images run through my head. Best case scenario is flying in the day, on a new plane with plenty of room, with the air vent on full blast on my face.

Worst case scenario was basically my flight with Egypt Air. For one, their safety record is about as sucky as it gets before it actually becomes a risky carrier. Upon reading their safety records it seemed they were constantly crashing into sand dunes upon landing and takeoff while they weren’t pulling suicide dives into the ocean off of Massachusetts. The customer reviews were more or less unanimously horrid and my flight path (Bangkok – Cairo – Barcelona) seemed to be the worst. The often cited “run down, old plane that creaks” made me nervous. Further, it was a 9 hour flight in the middle of the night which adds tremendously to my claustrophobia.

Another thing that made me a little more apprehensive had nothing to do with the company but had to do with current events. Osama bin Laden had been killed less than a week before. The news was full of speculation of revenge attacks and the methods they might be carried out. It was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

The plane was old, I thought as I sat down, but it wasn’t as cramped as I was expecting. Ok, I can deal with this. I had a window seat in a 3 seat row. Next to me was a woman and her baby which was both a blessing and a curse.

I popped a few Xanax, applied my death grip to the armrests, and waited as the plane made its way to the runway.

I confess to being a giant vagina when it comes to airplanes. I have been in cartel held towns in Mexico, I have seen people crushed in cars and splattered on the street after scaffolding accidents, I have seen a man get out of his car and start shooting at the house in front of me. I was fine through all of these things, but put me on a plane and I almost instantly lose my shit.

The engines charged and soon there was that rumble and we all sank into our seats.

The baby wailed in the dark and soon began to scream. I held on for dear life as the plane groaned and creaked and lifted off. No sand dunes anyway.

The plane began to bank to the right and the baby continued to scream.

A few more minutes, I told myself, and we would level out.

We hit turbulence immediately. It was the sort of stuff that you frequently hit before the plane rises past the weather. It was a little more violent than usual and was a hell of a lot louder to say the least.

For a few moments we bounced and shook and vibrated as we continued on up.

Then we hit some kind of air pocket.

Free-fall while banking to the right and aimed upwards.

It didn’t last more than 1 second but it might have been the single most terrifying event of my life. It wasn’t just me. As my stomach rose in weightlessness I heard other people gasping and screaming. I could see nothing as the plane was pitch black and the windows offered nothing but foggy abyss.

The worst of it was we fell for long enough for me to actually think during it. It felt like that first second of the drop on the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. I wondered if we were seriously about to belly-flop in a fiery splash somewhere outside of Bangkok.

All of this happened in no more than a second. The plain caught air again and again we were thrown to and fro in turbulence. Half a minute later and it was over. Soon people were sighing in relief and letting out little chuckles. The pilots probably didn’t even notice it. Meanwhile, I spent the next 9 hours sitting in darkness, popping Xanax, white-knuckled. I felt every minute of that flight.

But, I lived. I landed in Cairo, chain-smoked, and a handful of hours later I was sitting in Europe and Asia and Korea were a long ways away.

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On Progress and Planes

At 3AM I recieved confirmation from my recruiter, Steven, that after spending another $50 to ship my Suffolk transcripts to Korea that I finally was the proud owner of a visa confirmation number.  That's one step closer to getting on the thousand ton, magical flying machine.  Tomorrow I must call the Korean consol and arrange an appointment, after which I will have a new sticker in my passport saying that I am allowed to work in the country.  Missing the point, I know, but I hope this is one bad-ass sticker.

So, one step closer to leaving everything and everyone I know for a whole year.  I began this process as a scared little Kid.  Larry, my friend from Suffolk and long-standing drinking buddy convinced me that teaching in South Korea was the thing to do.  Two weeks later he was in Cheonan, telling me about the adventure of it all, and how I had to come and do it. 

I started the process a long time ago with little hope that I would actually finish it, but here I am.

This process has taken me so much longer than I was expecting that my fears have begun to calm down a bit.  I am still scared, mind you, but I am no longer completely mortified of the prospect of spending a year abroad. 
This sounds stupid, but the part that I was (and to a certain extent still am) fearing the most was the airplane.  To say that I dislike planes would be an understatement.  Here is an example: I drove to Florida with my old roomate Hadley.  The way down was one of the funnest things I have ever done.  I had the option to fly back home but I turned it down and took a train.  That is right: I took a 27 hour train to avoid 3 hours in an airplane. 

I went to Mexico to do a workcamp once and it ended badly.  For those of you who follow the link i want you to know that the vast majority of workcamps work out fine and that this was a fluke.  To make a long story that will be told elsewhere very short: I arrived in Mexico City, took an 8 hour bus to a place called Tecpan de Galeana, spent the night watching heavily armed men drive around in trucks and fending off cockroaches while trying to conceal $1000+ worth of camera equipment.  Nobody ever picked me up.  When the sun came out I hopped the first bus that came and ended up in Acapulco.  I salvaged the week or so I was there, but there was a certain stress that was building in my mind that I didn't even notice.  After I made my way back to Mexico City and got into the plane I was so happy it was over.  I was seated next to a couple of kids on their way to Chicago, where I would be put on a plane home to Boston.  I smiled and drifted to sleep.

I woke up to what I now know to be a full blown panic attack.  I couldn't breathe but in gasps.  My arms and legs were tingling and felt as though novacaine was being pumped through my veins.  My vision was jumping as though there was a very powerful strobe light infront of my face.  And my mind.  I was sure I was dying.  I was having a heart attack.  I was accepting this but my thoughts became so irrational.  I was positive that I could feel the back of the plane beginning to fall from the sky.  I looked at the kids and wondered how much their parents would have to pay for therapy when this was over.  It passed in a few moments but came back again and again.  It took all my might not to scream and cry.  To be sure, that moment is and will remain the worst experience that I have ever had.

I passed out as soon as I hit the bench of my connecting airport and I walked onto the next airplane as though I were walking down that last grey mile to the gas chamber. 

I was happy to be home, but something was horribly wrong.  I kept having panic attacks.  I had trouble driving or being in a small room, or anywhere with quiet.  I couldn't go out to eat at a restaurant.  The only time I didn't feel on edge was at the place I worked at.  Finally the doctor gave me some pills and I googled the hell out of what was happenning to me.  Knowing what happens physiologically during a panic attack is more helpful than any medication.

In the end, I don't think a plane caused what happened; it must have been the stress I kept bottled up, but it left me with a foul taste for flying. 

That was a long way for me to say that I really do not like flying.  I don't like taking off, I don't like descending, and I certainly hate turning.  If I had my way the pilot would inform us of EVERY move he or she made. 

But I am ready for this flight, or at least I am as ready as I can be courtesy of a hefty bottle of Lorazepam.

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