Facing my fears

When the night of boarding the flight to Gambia finally arrived I was so pumped up with excitement that I did not realise how scared I actually was.

 
I ordered the taxi to the meeting point after checking my house a million and one times to ensure I had not left any plugs or, heaven forbid, the oven turned on.  It turned out I hadn’t, a truly fantastic start to any story!

I have always had a fear of flying; there is something about a gigantic piece of machinery having the ability to be able to take off from the ground carrying that amount of people that seems like some sort of witchcraft to me.

It could be because I am not fond of things that I cannot understand which may lead you to think I do not like anything in my life but, I promise, I understand some things!

The fact of the matter is that I, Camilla Ann Armstrong, do not like aeroplanes.

Having only travelled to Spain twice, once when I was ten and then again when I turned sixteen, I had forgotten what it was like to be in the sky.  I had also never experienced a long haul flight before and there I was planning two trips to Africa – Gambia first then Madagascar a week after.  I was living life on the edge!

The five minute taxi journey from my house to the meeting point seemed to drag on.  I made the usual small talk “Had a good day?  Been busy?  When do you clock off?  Got a good weekend planned?” to the enthralling taxi driver in order to pass the time.  Sure he was friendly enough, but you never seem to get a taxi driver you’d want to give your last Rolo to, do you?

When we reached our destination I got out of the taxi and saluted the driver.  Just as I did so, a single tear drop rolled down my cheek as I watched him drive away and at that moment I can honestly say I was well and truly proud to be British.  Not really, but that’s how I imagined it; in reality I just paid and got out the car.  If any tears or rushes or proudness did occur at that moment, it was probably because my case was pretty heavy and I was impressed I managed to lift it.

I scoured the area like a lonely Meerkat expecting to see the rest of my Meerkats calling for me.  Where was everyone?  Had I got the wrong place?  I waited a while, probably around three and half minutes in total, which is a long time when you’re having a panic though, isn’t it?

All of a sudden, after my stomach had been jumping and flipping around all over the place with worry, one by one, familiar, smiley faces began to crop up, all set and eager for the forthcoming adventure and soon-to-be-discovered amazing experiences we were all going to share together.

Me and Carly on the coach (before I fell to sleep)

On the coach, from Carlisle to London, the excited anticipation was so strong you could almost see it in the air.  The excited chatter and laughter of the fifty-strong group soon died down as people gradually fell to sleep.

Trying to find a distraction, I made the mistake of looking in a mirror (never do that when you’ve slept on a coach); with all the shaking around and not being able rest your head properly you end up looking like some sort of snail-like-foetus.  Well, I did and it wasn’t attractive, I assure you.

When I stepped out of the coach in the small hours on a cold April morning it didn’t feel natural.  I felt like a zombie and all I could think about was my bed.  My sick feeling died down when I saw how friendly and welcoming the airport appeared but this was no Leeds-Bradford, I was messing with the big boys now, I was inside Heathrow.

I tried not to think about the trips for weeks before the day of the first flight arrived.  I managed to get my injections (all nine of them!) without any qualms and paid for my tickets with no problems - except for being left with a skinny purse.  Never mind, I thought, he’ll get fatter when the next loan comes in!  Unfortunately, the poor lad never regained his weight and he still sits inside my bag feeling sorry for himself on a daily basis.  I really must rejuvenate the little critter at some point.

The time had finally come; no more day-dreaming, I was finally going to do it.  We found our seats.  My stomach turned and I felt sick but no-one else seemed to care.  Was I the only one?

After listening to the obligatory instructions; don’t die; don’t be sick on your kids; don’t become a member of the mile high club; that kind of thing, we started to move.

My hands were sweating; I just didn’t know how to react.  I was silent as the ‘plane gained speed down the runway.  We were flying.  Had I done it?  I opened one eye.  Yes I had!  I did it!

I was so surprised with myself that I was laughing.  I was happy and, even better,  

I was surrounded by people who love me.  It was a magical feeling, we were all one big family and, little did we know at this stage, this was barely scratching the surface of the precious memories that together we would create.

Alex, Teale and I on the flight to Gambia :)