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2002-09-10

Paper Tigers and Waxen Wings is an essay I wrote after 9/11 about my own experience with the paralyzing fear of flying. I have since overcome it, yet know many people who have discontinued flying as a result of that event.
In response to your question of balancing safety and freedom, I present this essay in contrast to the natural tendency to react to ones fears in such an extreme way. Overcoming my own fear allowed me to put my life into perspective, and to see that safety is often merely a state of mind - perhaps just an acceptance of ones surroundings.
When I began flying again, I promised myself I would one day use my experience to help someone else. The unfortunate circumstances of September 11th have allowed me the courage to tell this story.


6/21/02
PAPER TIGERS & WAXEN WINGS A Personal Essay by Paula M. Froehle

I have a secret.
I have taken flying lessons.
I have boarded a 747 while it was grounded to experience how it felt to move around inside the aircraft and to simulate what it would feel like in flight.
I have listened to tapes countless times which explain the sights and sounds of an airplane during liftoff, in flight and on landing.
I have stopped a plane taxiing for takeoff, forced it back to the gate, asked to be let off, whereby I was systematically removed and interrogated.
I am 37 years old, with brown hair and brown eyes, a white female from the Midwest.
And I stopped a plane cold. Back then, they said it couldnt be done.

After twelve years of carrying around this little secret, it seems time to come clean. Because now, its easier to communicate a little about why it happened. Of what I feared. Of how the freedom I associate with flying had become mixed up with the fear of the unknown, and how this fear won out.

New York was the first place I traveled by plane, in 1985 at the age of 19, with the man I would later marry. I remember being enamored with the beauty of the clouds; the endless landscapes of foam and cotton seemed so close you could reach out and touch them. I had thoughts of God, of art, of the smallness and yet ingenuity of man. I felt that all things were possible, given the right mindset. I remember my ears being clogged on ascent, and I chewed my gum accordingly. I enjoyed the feeling of floating, and I was never more in love with my husband than on that day.
Over the years we went to many cities, traveled to Europe, the West Coast. In between my first flight and my last, there were well over 30 million takeoffs and landings, less than 100 highjackings, and approximately125 fatal accidents. Each time one occurred, my heart raced a bit more as we boarded a plane. Each time, my fascination and sense of safety was robbed, but since I believed that everyone else was at ease, my fears increased in private.

In October of1989, I boarded a plane bound for Oklahoma and proceeded to take a seat on the aisle. I noticed a rise in temperature and adjusted the air vent. The airline attendants came around, checked our seatbelts, told us to prepare for takeoff. Still pretty warm, I removed my jacket. My heart was beating a little faster than usual and feeling uncomfortable told my husband. He reassured me that everything was fine, but as the doors closed for takeoff, my heart was beating through my chest, racing out of control- I was having a heart attack. I had never had this feeling before in my life; I was 100% convinced that I was going to die if left on that plane. So as it backed up from the terminal I told my husband I was going to get off. I unstrapped my safety belt and headed up the aisle, where I was quickly met by the flight attendant. I informed her that I was in severe danger. She attempted to reassure me, asked me to sit down and brought me a glass of wine. I explained that wine wasnt going to do it, that I was seriously in trouble, that there was a history of heart problems in my family, that I needed to get off that plane. She told me to stay seated, we would be airborne soon, and that I had no choice. I grabbed her arm, pleaded with her to let me off. Noticing my fingernails digging into her skin, she told me she would talk to the captain. When she returned, she tersely explained that they were going back to the gate. Relieved, of course, my heart slowed down. By the time we were let off the plane, I was back to normal blood pressure and felt fine. Pretty embarrassed, but fine.
I was escorted to a private room and asked a series of questions about my circumstances, my background, my intent in going to Norman, OK. Convinced that I wasnt a terrorist, they let me go.

I spent the following decade trying many ways to overcome it: I drank heavily beforehand, tried talking it out with friends & therapists, I even took classes in the Fear of Flying, where we were told that we were all smarter than the average citizen, because we understood there was a danger - however small- in this simple act that others take for granted. I listened to my tapes, chanted, meditated and then one day, something happened that changed my perspective forever. A friend died at the age of 50 from cancer. As I obsessed about something that in all likelihood would never happen, along came this mysterious force and sucked the life right out of her in 4 months time. It was one of the cruelest things Ive ever witnessed. But it made me realize a few things: that life is short, that I have little control over my time or means of dying, that statistically it is 19 times safer to fly than to drive in a car, and that in order to do and see the things I wanted to in my life, I was going to have to suspend disbelief, trust in others, let go and fly.

And so I did- to places like Indianapolis, Detroit, Grand Rapids. Originating in Chicago, the total in-air time was always less than an hour. Eventually I flew (always with my husband) to places like Columbus, Atlanta, and even New York. Then, in the fall of 1999, a full decade after my initial attack, I decided it was time for me to try it alone. Walking toward the gate that day, my fear rose up in front of me like a dragon. My body was moving, but not under my control. My mind tried to focus on the positive reinforcements I had learned. I was determined to find the friendliest person in the terminal and sit down and talk to them- about their life, where they were heading, what their dreams, desires were- to use basic human interaction as a distraction from my fears- and it worked. Next thing I knew, I was in the air, on an overcrowded plane, my knees jammed into the back of the person in front of me, listening to a woman talk about her boyfriend, who she loved, but knew would never marry her. All the while twirling the ring on her left finger.

Having gone from the paralysis of fear on that flight in October to landing alone at midnight in New York City was one of the greatest moments of my life. As I exited the terminal, lost in my reverie, my jacket was stolen and a man "offered" me a cab ride who had no yellow taxi and no license. But from my newfound perspective, none of this mattered. I had finally broken through the paper tiger of my fears and realized the world has lots to offer.

So, after the events of September 11th, I believe its important to keep in mind these few things:
-that the world is a very large place, with many opportunities bigger and greater than the fear we feel now
-that we diminish ourselves in being driven by these fears, instead of our rationale and desire, and
-that if the hour of our death is on a plane, it would be one of great valor, like those on any of the flights that day, who by giving their lives, saved many. Well never know how many people were in the process of scheming the takeover of their hijackers, or making emergency phone calls, or simply saying a prayer that they hoped would save them. But what we can believe is that they died in the process of going to or doing something they loved, as free from fear as we can now hope for.

When I began flying again, I promised myself I would one day use my experience to help someone else. The unfortunate circumstances of September 11th have allowed me the courage to tell this story.


9/11/01-
Prior to this moment
I had buried this secret
deep within my body
sheltered from my soul
the secret
of how
I have imagined the plane I see overhead
dropping vertically out of the blue-
as if to prove
the laws of physics wrong,
my fears correct.

but now,
I openly admit to that
which seems much less significant
than the papers scattered over NY streets

Now
I have perspective
on what to truly fear
which is not an act of god
or a break in the law of physics
but rather the evil
that rests within
the hearts of men.
__________________________