Flying, for some people, is as routine as riding a bus. I have only flown four times in my entire life—all of them lasted less than an hour. Right before each of those flights, I spent the proceeding hours attempting to 1) meditate while standing up / sitting down, 2) try not to shit myself, 3) manage my fluid intake so as to not have to go to the toilet during the flight, 4) try not to recall the few episodes of Seconds from Disaster or Air Crash Investigation, 6) think of quotes about bravery, 7) or quotes about death, 8) remember that planes are statistically the safest form of travel, 9) or think of a blog/journal post about the whole pre-flight experience.

Some background:

I’ve never been brave. One of my most vivid childhood memories involves panicking and crying out loud while riding a coin-operated motorcycle kiddie-ride. There was no danger of dying at all, but I was deathly afraid of riding those things.

As I grew older, my activities forced me to go farther, but my confidence was always at least 5-10 years behind my age:

• I didn’t regularly ride elevators until I was forced to do so. My first job’s office was at the 17th floor of our building. On the first few days, I walked up the stairwell just to avoid riding the elevator because—you guessed it—I was afraid.
• I still avoid water slides. Peer pressure helps, sure. But if I can avoid it, I will.
• Airplanes.

I’m sure there are many other things that I could add to this list that didn’t come to me as I am writing this.

It’s almost exactly one month since I went to Batanes solo. I calmed myself down by continuously taking mint candies 2 hours before the flight and by counting down from 1000 to 0. Neither of those 2 tricks worked. I seriously considered asking the person who would be sitting beside me to hold my hand as the plane takes-off. I had no one to talk to. No one but the voices in my head to calm me down (the voices weren’t helpful AT ALL). I am like a confused cat riding a car for the first time.

I eventually calmed down when the plane stopped ascending and I got to see the long shadows of buildings and land features while flying a few thousand meters over Luzon.

Fear turned into excitement as the ground turned into a vast ocean. I’m pretty good at geography, so I was able to recognise the features of the northern provinces. A few minutes after leaving the main Luzon island, I saw the Babuyan Islands.

My next flight would be different though. I’d be going to a completely different country where I only know a handful of people. Most of the flight time would be over a vast, featureless sea.

Will I pass through the immigration checkpoint without any hick-ups? Will my mind be blown by the discipline that I often hear about Singapore? Is it really that hot there? I dunno.