Throughout my life moments when I always seem to fall fate to fear is when I am travelling, most moments, of extreme fear take place in either the plane or bus which usual leave me terrified of them.

My worst moment of fear took place recently when I was skiing in the Pyrenees in the south of France.

My holiday started like any other, getting up at 2 o’clock for check in at the airport, and as I am not a good morning person and rarely see life at that time, I was amazed to see how much life actually thrived at this unholy time. The morning air is so much more refreshing than the later day, the slight nip of the cold that is plentiful in the air, especially at the airport, gives pleasant warmth to me as a traveller. However this welcome warmth wasn’t to last forever as I soon learned.

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The first thing that had made me nervous about this holiday was that I had to travel alone, which meant I had to travel through the hustle and bustle of Glasgow, Gatwick and Toulouse airport. Alone. A mix up with the ticket bookings meant that I had to travel alone and on a scheduled flight whereas my brother and uncle had a direct “hassle free” flight straight to Toulouse.

Nowadays most people think of fear of travelling as being your plane getting hijacked or the plane crashing at take off, but other more terrifying forms of fear for me are getting lost at the airport or complications with the flight or tickets, which are trivial in comparison, but can also contribute to fear levels rising.

The base to my fear of this holiday started in the form of fear itself, Gatwick airport. Sitting tin the departure lounge is like being transported to an alien world, strange voices echo through the massive halls where people are constantly on the move, being channelled through the endless maze of walkways and escalators.

The second stage to any holiday is the flight on the plane. This can usually be pleasant, but in this case it was definitely not.

Flying under the cover of darkness into the warm orange glow if the sunset, in a 30-ton flying girder of computers, wires, metal, and fuel. I began to wonder how safe I actually was floating above the feather like whispy clouds.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen” I heard the over confident captain say.

“10 minuets to arrival, thank you”.

As I looked out the window I could see the whispy soft clouds turning black and heavy, then total darkness as the tiny plane in comparison, disappeared into the huge abyss of the over whelming clouds.

My fear at this point was starting to build, and as the fasten seatbelt sign came on it practically exploded, as I looked at the other passengers realising that I wasn’t the only one who was panicking as the plane began to shake violently, as if the cloud was alive inside and forcing us to roll up down, fear at this point has you in an unmerciful hold.

At this point all rational thinking is completely lost and basic human instinct take over. Most thoughts are generated towards loved ones, remembrance of cherished memories, but in my case the fear had al but passed. As I looked round to see the other passengers, expressions of dread, fear and uncertainty embossed on their faces.

I realised that the fear of dieing for me is irrelevant; the biggest fear of all is the pain of the people you leave behind. The fear of loss and the anguish felt.

Looking out at the jagged clouds, I could the bright blue sky and a single burst of sunlight shining thru. This gave hope to the many people on the plane.

The emotion of fear is felt and controlled in many ways. I find the best way to face the fear flying recently acquired on my latest escapade, is to get back out there and face it again, however it is still quite comforting to feel the wheels hit the tarmac and the rush of burning rubber that engulfs the senses.

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