The woman from Beachwood, Ohio, had a problem.
She and her husband had been planning an anniversary trip to Vegas in October
when the planes hit the Twin Towers. Vegas was no longer a gamble he was
willing to take.
"Maybe in December," he told his wife.
She wanted to go ahead with the trip, though,
and relations have quickly soured.
"I'm worried about airport security, too,"
she told me in a phone call. "But my husband's always over-cautious. We
can't let ourselves be paralyzed from living life, can we?"
Absolutely, I told her – shortly before catching
my own flight to New England.
It isn’t easy, because it’s all too fresh
in our minds – the images of terror, the reminder of our lack of control.
It’s a wonder anybody wants to travel right now, or let anyone they care
about step anywhere near a boarding gate.
And yet there I was, only a week after the
catastrophes, not only embarking on a romantic getaway on a half-empty
Southwest jet but effusively contemplating trips to other places the two
of us want to go together, to Paris and New Zealand. In fact, we seemed
to be more effusive following the terrorist attacks. Was it denial?
I’m hardly ignorant of the potential perils.
I was one of the first reporters on the horrific scene in Oklahoma City.
I have investigated causes of aviation disasters and interviewed victims’
families. Only this summer, my flight out of Albuquerque developed a potentially
serious problem – a small hole – that had me clutching my daughter close
and sneaking illegal cell phone calls from the bathroom.
So why was I flying to New England and planning
walks along the Seine and treks along the Milford Track, trips that terrorism
has for many delayed rather than accelerated?
Because it was life-affirming. In a way, this
woman and I were telling ourselves: Not only must life go on, it is precious,
and we must pursue our strongest desires and dreams with the zeal of running
for a plane we might otherwise miss. We must live fully, whenever we can.
For some of us, that means traveling together,
sharing new experiences, opening ourselves to the possibility of the unexpected
– horrific or joyous. There’s not just a risk of dying, but the risk of
not having lived.
Before Sept. 11, Jean Ratner, a psychotherapist
at the Center for Travel Anxiety in Bethesda, generally counseled clients
that their fear of flying was irrational. Now, rattled by the realities
of terrorism, she's not so sure. Her usual “thought-stopping” techniques
might not work so quickly. Even before the terrorist attacks, an estimated
25 million Americans – one in six adults – were afraid to fly.
At the same time, people will want or
need to. “There will be meetings and weddings and relationships and all
the usual reasons people fly,” observes Ratner.
But I was lucky. What if a person’s companion
isn’t ready?
Ratner's recommendations:
> Help the person talk about it, and listen.
> Give your companion time for feelings of
normalcy.
> Share your reaction and concerns.
> Respect each other's differences.
In other words, Beachwood, don't spend another
minute arguing that life's short or that it's important to show terrorists
they can't stop us from our normal activities. Postpone the trip or drive
to Atlantic City. It's not worth the gamble for your relationship.
“If you force somebody to fly too early, before
they feel it's safe enough," explains Ratner, “it will be a real setback.
People think that a person should go even if he's terrified, and it's a
way to break through the fear. That's not generally a good idea.”
Helpful books for general anxiety about flying:
"Flying Without Fear," by Duane Brown (New
Harbinger Publications, $14.95)
"Fly Without Fear" by Carol Stauffer.
(Henry Regnery Company, $14.95).
Stauffer, a therapist, has helped passengers
overcome their anxieties as co-director of USAir’s “Fearful Flyer Program.”
