I can't really pinpoint when my fear of flying began. The three major air disasters of 2014 have certainly done nothing to quell my fears, and then last week I was in Taupo working when the skydive plane decided to conk out mid-air. Too close for comfort to be honest.
As a child I remember enjoying scenic flights over Rotorua when the "Helicopter Line" was based on Te Ngae Rd where the BMX track is now. Then there was my mate whose father was a deer hunter and we had weekend flights in his chopper out over the lakes.
When I was about 10, I took my first plane flight to Palmerston North via Hamilton and had a blast. A couple of years later was my first overseas trip and again I thought it was cool.
A lot more flights have followed, but somewhere along the line, something changed. Nerves, sweaty palms, crazy thoughts, weird rituals as I board the plane ...
The first time we all flew as a family, my kids were super excited. I tried, I really did. But I ended up moving to a different part of the plane so they wouldn't get upset, and Katie had to do all the parenting.
