The Plane Ride of Doom

My very first plane ride? It wasn’t great. In fact, it was downright terrible.

I almost died on my first plane ride. Well, not died, but it was still terrifying! Let me take you on a little journey I like to call, “The Plane Ride of Doom.”

It was one that whisked me away to Korea, now my favorite country. I was looking forward to eating the yummy and savory food, visiting cat cafes, which are a specialty of Korea, and most of all, seeing my grandmother, who always made me tea and Korean delicacies. Sadly, I would end up being quite queasy when I arrived, making it difficult for me to enjoy my first day there. 

I had arrived at the airport and eaten an early morning breakfast at 6:00, which, little did I know, would be churning in my stomach some hours later. I then had to wait for long, tedious hours to board the plane. Up until then, I was feeling fine. In fact, I was feeling pretty much elated, since it was my first time! But I soon realized that this ride was going to be a nightmare.

As soon as I entered through the doors of the plane, a heavy feeling of claustrophobia settled over me. I absolutely HATE small, enclosed spaces. My parents had described it to me otherwise, but I had expected that they would tone it down some ways, seeing as they knew about my fear of small spaces. However, the amount they had watered it down had been a little much, considering that they had described a huge 6 meter width cabin, with spacious plush seats and huge windows. In fact, their exact words had been, “It’s exactly like a room in the house, except for a chair instead of the bed! It’s a little smaller but not much. You’ll love it!” Way to get my hopes up, Mom and Dad. Which, considering that I had been eight years old, had been foolish of me to believe. 

Anyways, as I proceeded down the aisle, I soon saw the dreaded seats of economy. Not even economy plus! I mean, come on. Everyone knows that the seats of economy are rock-hard, tiny, and have no leg room at all. Even though I was tiny at the time, I didn’t even have space to draw or read a book! With the tray table down! I felt like a sardine in a can, packed and suffocated, waiting for the sweet release of the lid being opened.  I know what you might be thinking. This doesn’t sound that bad. Sardines really have it much worse. But then came the worst part: the flight itself.

Just before we started moving, a flight attendant came up to me, all smiles and overly excited cheerfulness. She chirped merrily, “Hello! Would you like a glass of water?”

I nodded my head absentmindedly and she handed me a small plastic cup with water in it. I placed it to the side, and she spoke again.

“Please help yourself to our unlimited games, movies, and in-flight map! Have a nice flight!”

Right. I stared at nothing, my eyes half-closed, not even listening to a word she said.

After that fiasco, I watched out the window as the plane rumbled around to the tarmac, and after what seemed like centuries, we were off. The first five minutes of the flight were fine. But then came the airsickness and the sleepiness! On top of that, I couldn’t sleep because of the noise in the plane AND the fact that there was a screaming baby right behind us, making it impossible to get any z’s. That’s when I realized this place was a death trap. A claustrophobic death trap. With stale plane air. And snacks that taste like baked cardboard. At that point, I had honestly felt that I wanted to scream like the baby, who was probably feeling the same way I felt right now. I finally dozed off while repeating to myself, There’s no place like Korea. There’s no place like Korea.

I woke up hours later. In spite of how much I had slept, we still had one and a half hours left. So I decided to look out the window. Despite how fatigued and drained I was, I woke right up when I saw the bright blue sky and fluffy marshmallow-like clouds. Bewitched by the sheer beauty of the atmosphere, I stared out the window for several more minutes–or maybe more (I couldn’t tell; who knows?). Suddenly, I snapped back to reality of the horrid plane ride, woken from the sweet depths of my daydream. 

My mom was scolding me, something about not sleeping enough at home and then sleeping loads here, on the plane, of all places. I actually almost laughed at what she was saying. The cruel irony of not being able to sleep at home, where I had a dark room and quiet, and being able to sleep instead with constant roaring and a wailing baby was so obnoxious to the point that it was funny. 

I suddenly felt dizzy and unfocused, most likely from the lack of food, water, and comfortable rest. I mean, I had been stuck in a squished position for several hours! I reached for water in my seat and gulped the cool, refreshing liquid, almost tossing it down my throat and basically choking in the process. Yep. Great plane ride so far.

I shook them awake frantically and spoke, “We’reheresocanIgetoffpleasepleasepleaseit’sanemergencyplease!” They just sat there blinking as if I had spoken too fast. I mean, what? How else do people speak when trapped on a metal death object! 

When they finally spoke and said, “Wait. We need to get our stuff down and wait to leave”— I. Was. HEARTBROKEN. I sighed and slumped down in my seat, an infinitely grumpy and nonnegotiable expression on my pale and tired face. I yawned hugely, perhaps a little exaggeratedly (just a little), showing just how tired and drained I was. And I waited. And waited. And waited some more. In fact, I started to count people going off the plane!  One person, two people, three, four, fifty… 

Just when I was about to fall off a cliff into dreamland, my parents muttered, exasperated, “Come on, let’s go. You’ve been waiting for only 15 minutes. Don’t you have any patience?!” 

After what seemed like infinity, my parents urged me up and led me to the exit. I stepped onto solid ground shakily and sighed with relief. I wobbled to the escalator and welcomed the fresh air-conditioned oxygen into my nostrils. We passed all of the required safety checks and exited to the bright, humid outdoors of Korea. At that point, I felt as if I had never been on a plane at all. 

So, that’s how I almost died on my first plane ride. Of course, over three years of consistent travel, I’ve gotten used to planes, though I still feel occasional dizziness on the plane rides. My advice? If you absolutely must travel, choose such a great place that when you land, you forget all about the horror and trauma of those deathly metal birds we call “planes”.