Fear of the day
I am a tad on the claustrophobic side. Being trapped underground at 600 meter, like the 33 Chilean mineworkers were for the past two months until they were rescued on October 13, 2010, sounds like absolute hell to me. The thought of being in a confined space, knowing your are stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey if something goes wrong simply does not appeal to me.
Flying has a similar effect on my nerves. Look, I do not hate flying and no, I do not turn into a hyperventilating, prozac popping nervous wreck when I hop aboard of one of those winged mass coffins. But enjoying it? Not so much. I am a convinced atheist but when it comes to turbulence I all of a sudden find myself praying to all possible gods I can think of.
Usually the realisation that there is a very capable person behind the steering wheel – someone who has studied for decades – manages to calm me down. Nothing can happen with an über-human in charge.
And THAN, THAN you read this: “Plane makes emergency landing after pilot dies mid-air”.