Airplane Madness

July 14, 2017

3 years ago I planned to go to England to visit a friend... but something happened...

Everything was fine. I was even a little excited. Sneakers on, backpack with my laptop, magazines, a good book everything that is needed for a long flight. I handed my boarding pass and I-d to the security guard and walked through security. Typical airport procedures. I was okay, then. I had two years until my flight so I walked around, went into some shops, got a snack, and waited by my gate. I took out a magazine and ate a banana, reassuring myself everything would be okay. Finally, after the two hours which seemed to last forever, we finally started boarding the plane. I was still okay, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. An international flight carries a lot of people and takes a lot of time for preparation. I stood waiting to board and felt anxiety rise in me, it seemed to go from my toes all the way to the tip-top of my head. I walked closer and closer to the gate, well my body did, but everything else wanted to run screaming to the exit door. Some unknown spirit lifted my hand and gave the ticketing woman my boarding pass. That was it. I was done. It was done. Starting to feel sick, I walked to seat 9A, a window seat. I stumbled over the two people sitting next to me. A woman at the isle seat and a man in the middle; he was a big man. He nearly poured on top of me and there wasn’t very much space between my seat and the window. Then it happened. The inevitable. I could feel the leather from the gray seat sticking to my thigh. A tightness, a trap. I wasn’t going anywhere. I thought my skin would peel off if I stood up. Anxiety and sweat sunk down my face and I was in a pool. Holding my stomach, clenching, begging myself not to throw up. I was enclosed. I wasn’t getting out. I started to panic. Starting to hake and tremble, I got up, I needed to get up. I started texting my friend telling her I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t breathe. I walked over to the flight attendant and asked to get off. She looked puzzled; she looked at me like I was from another planet.
“You didn’t know England was a six hour flight?” She asked me.
“No, I did! I just… I can’t do it. I can’t sit here for six hours. I can’t go.” I didn’t know what words were even coming out of my mouth.
Tears flooded down my face and I was in another pool. A different pool than before. I was escorted off. I finally felt free, but also felt suicidal, because this wasn’t okay. Nothing was. I was still in hell but in a better surrounding. I texted my friend in England telling her I had a panic and anxiety attack. It was the next morning that I knew, we were done.


A few days later, I made it to London for a day. I had a London --> Kosovo flight to meet my best friend in the country where she's from. We went to Montenegro, and hung out in Kosovo <3