Sticking it to the terrorists

I had finally begun to relax a little bit about flying to Florida this Saturday. Then I woke up Tuesday morning to yet another plane crash, which did nothing to assuage my fears. I'm a tense flier under the best of circumstances, so the crash this week, combined with those in September, have ensured that I am going to jump right out of my skin every time two men on my plane stand up to go the restroom simultaneously or there is the slightest change in engine noise. \nNonetheless, I am going to hop right on that plane Saturday. Overlooking the fact that it will eventually deposit me at Disney World, there are several reasons why I am pressing forward with my trip despite my, well, terror, at the prospect. \nPart of my determination is simply that by boarding an airplane I feel that I am contributing my voice to that collective American middle finger to terrorism. I can't serve in the military, or stimulate the economy by purchasing a home, but I can demonstrate my patriotism by planting myself next to the window in seat 4D.\nBut the big reason I'm flying despite all the gruesome images my brain insists upon conjuring is that I have a chip on my shoulder about fear. I don't like it. Actually, that's too mild a phrase. I don't like lima beans either, but I don't feel compelled to stab them to death with my fork when they appear on my plate. \nBut fear, on the other hand… Fear irritates me. To me, fear is like a spider climbing up your arm. Not only must it be knocked off, but it must be stomped on for good measure. \nI wasn't born with this philosophy, mind you. But after spending years of marriage being at best unhappy, and at worst cowed and miserable, I finally summoned the courage one day to throw all that I could fit into my car, grab my dog and drive away. And I learned that sometimes what happens when you finally confront your fears is nothing less than a new, and seemingly miraculous, life. It's a lesson I learned well, and one I continue to apply. \nFor example, I'm terrified, as in vomit and faint terrified, of needles. Solution? I got a tattoo. I have a huge height phobia too. So I went rock climbing. You get the idea. Afraid a terrorist is going to smash your plane into a million flaming pieces on the ground? Schedule not one, not two, but three upcoming plane trips. \nGranted, I don't think that flying to Orlando this weekend is going to be the tremendous, life-altering experience that dropping everything, moving to another state and returning to college was. I don't think that a couple spins on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disney World will open as many doors as earning a B.A. will, but the principle remains the same. If I let my minor airplane phobia be exacerbated by all the recent airplane tragedies to the point that I won't board a plane, then I am letting fear control me, rather than vice versa. (Oh yeah, I have a chip on my shoulder about being controlled, too.) \nSo that's me today, at Disney World. That girl, formerly scared of heights, who is now free-falling on the Tower of Terror for the third time in a row and loving every second of it. \nScore: Fear 0. Jeanne 4.