Over the past couple of years, I’ve really become terrified of the thought of flying. I’ve never been super happy about it – I have a fear of heights, and therefore flying just feels slightly wrong in my mind.
I can’t exactly pinpoint when that shifted though. I did have a miserable flight once from Copenhagen to Amsterdam, but blamed it on low blood sugar. However, after that, I ended up taking the train home a couple of times – and the other times when I did fly, it almost seemed like there was a major flight accident just before or after my flight somewhere else in the world.
I do fly, and once I’m up in the air, it is usually okay (save for turbulence). But it is really the anticipation of it all, and taking off that gets to me.