Casual
_Casual My Two-Step Recovery Program About ten years ago, a gaunt, bald man in sandals walked up to me at Logan airport in Boston and handed me a book. "This is for you, friend," he said, smiling....
...He didn't buy it and just got madder, poking his finger at me as we walked through the terminal...
...After about a year in the program, I've become convinced of two things...
...Instead of 12 steps, my recovery regimen only had two: Head for the bar...
...Recovery is a process, after all...
...Only the fact that I was in a hurry had kept me from seeing it earlier...
...Planes I boarded seemed to have an inordinate number of problems: An emergency landing on an airstrip in Georgia because of hydraulic failure...
...Tucker Carlson...
...With no trace of the usual professional perkiness, she told me to sit down and be silent or face arrest...
...I was grateful for it, if a little confused, and under normal circumstances would have stayed to talk to the man for a while...
...Thanks to a sympathetic desk agent, I never had to find out...
...Free drinks...
...As a fearful flyer in recovery, I didn't bat an eye...
...I located the bar and before long was having such a good time listening to two mid-level insurance executives from Michigan argue about basketball that I lost track of my reason for being in the airport in the first place...
...No reassuring tours of the cockpit or lectures about the statistical safety of air travel...
...A brief but intense argument ensued during which I attempted to explain the concept of Indian-giving...
...It's on the house," she said...
...People usually give a $15 donation for the book," he said...
...No problem, I thought: I'll charter a Cessna...
...The proof came last spring when I found myself in an airport in Fort Meyers, Fla., waiting for a flight to Dallas...
...Sorry...
...Something real bad...
...Most of the time, though, it wasn't abject terror I experienced when I flew, but gnawing anxiety...
...Under ordinary, sober conditions I would have been upset...
...Marching up the aisle toward the cockpit, I informed a stewardess I'd like to get off...
...The agent smiled knowingly...
...My plane had left an hour before...
...Suddenly it was clear: This guy was a Hare Krishna, doing his fund-raising shtick...
...My plane to California didn't crash, but in another way something bad did happen to me: I became afraid of flying...
...By the time I made it to the gate my plane was boarding...
...First, there's no use being embarrassed or furtive about drinking in airports...
...On flights like these I spent hours in gut-churning dread, moist palms gripping armrests, smiling weakly at strangers across the aisle...
...There is, as the Krishna in Boston might have said, a Better Way...
...Drink till you feel better...
...Well, I said, that's great, and I appreciate the book, but I'm not going to give you any money...
...I wanted you to have it...
...Severe thunderstorms had closed just about every major airport in the region, making the chances of getting a connecting flight remote...
...Weather so rough the flight attendants were sick...
...Whether because of the Krishna's curse or not, over the next decade I came to dread air travel...
...I was sincerely grateful, yet somehow not surprised...
...He stopped me before I'd gone three feet...
...Second—and call me superstitious if you want—good things happen to those who drink before they fly...
...One morning several years ago, as my plane taxied down the runway on a flight out of Hartford, I decided I'd had enough...
...In my condition, heavy turbulence in a rickety two-seater seemed an entertaining prospect...
...Turns out I just don't feel like flying today, I explained...
...Just vodka screwdrivers, usually doubles...
...An electrical malfunction that forced an unexpected detour to Louisville...
...Sensing immediately that I was a two-stepper, the kindly woman charted a circuitous course for me through a couple of southern cities, getting me to Dallas with time to spare...
...The unsolicited gift turned out to be a hard-bound copy of the Bha-gavad Gita, the holy Hindu poem, done up in leatherette and faux-gold lettering with lots of illustrations...
...Ample pillows...
...Then, about a year ago, it struck me: I don't have to go through this anymore...
...But I was late for a plane to California, so I thanked him quickly and started off toward my gate...
...Just before we got to the X-ray machine, the man turned to me, eyes bulging, and spat out his parting words: "Something bad is going to happen to you, man...
...Then she upgraded me to first class...
...Thanks anyway...
...I had an interview at 8 the next morning in Texas...
...Only, as I soon discovered, it wasn't my plane...
...Big seats...
...So I declared myself powerless and entered a treatment program...
...This plane was going to Cleveland...
...All around, it was pretty bad news: The departed jet had been the day's last flight to Dallas...
Vol. 2 • November 1996 • No. 8
