At the airport this morning, I heard an exchange between two travelers bemoaning the laborious effort it took to get through security and the general questionable state of air safety today. One of them confessed that it took a great deal of courage to fly in the first place. That struck me. I know a lot of people who have an incredible fear of flying, some to the degree that they won't board a plane at all, under any circumstances. It seems a shame that this pathological fear should inhibit a person's ability to see the world. The very notion that you can board an aircraft and be in Sao Paulo or Beijing or Copenhagen in less than 24 hours is a marvelous gift. I mean, practically a miracle. That's worth a little risk, no?

The fear of flying woman then had to endure her companion's defense of the statistical safety odds of flying (i.e. you have a better chance of being struck by lightening), but you could see by the weary expression on her face that she had heard this all before and that no amount of persuasive argument was going to ease her fear. That's OK, actually. We all have our own fears that originate from mostly unknown sources and unless they infringe on our ability to be reasonably content or to function in every day life, they're probably natural.

I have always believed that a life led in fear is a wasted one and I've always tried to confront any fears I have so nothing holds me back. Still, that bravado doesn't stop me from housing a few unexplainable fears of my own. At a recent sales meeting, I asked some of the team to share their fears and some of the responses were weird and (unintentionally) funny. Examples: fear of boiled okra, fear of the ocean, fear of dwarfs. So perhaps my fears are not as unusual as I thought.

In light of this grand revelation of fears, I'm going to share my fear list with you (and here's hoping you'll share yours with me):

-Clowns and mimes. It's not that I'm actually afraid of them; they just sort of skeeve me out. For something that is supposed to represent merriment and whimsy, they seem the embodiment of evil. The use of the heavy greasepaint, exaggerated clothing and cartoony voices seems to mask a demonic and possibly homicidal trait that could be triggered at any time. I avoid them at all costs.

-Being buried alive. This is my most pathological fear and I don't know why. I am not claustrophobic so it's not a question of being confined in a small space. When I saw Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill, Vol 2" there was a scene where Uma Thurman is nailed into a coffin and buried alive. That scene caused me palpitations. I freaked out and had to leave the theater. The great fairy tale author, Hans Christian Anderson, also had this same fear. His instructions on his deathbed stated that his wrists be slit after he died in order to assure that he was really and truly dead before he was buried. I think I may have to do the same thing. Memo to self: Add that to the will tomorrow.

-Parking downward on steep hills. On my recent visit to San Francisco, I was reminded why this bothers me so much. For all my years in San Francisco, I never, ever felt comfortable parking on sharp declining hills where the car is facing at a downwards trajectory in what seems a precarious angle. For the decade and a half that I lived in the Bay Area, I never figured out which way I had to turn the wheels to insure the car (when the brake--I assumed--would inevitably give way to gravity) would not careen downhill and kill a dozen pedestrians. I felt slightly freaked out again when I had to park it several times this past weekend on rather steep inclines.

-Dying Alone. This one is sort of a misnomer, as we are all likely going it alone when we die. I don't have any children and I don't have a large family and I worry sometimes, foolishly maybe, in the hard twilight of night, who will be there to take my hand and put their arms around me to send me on my way when it's my time. I know that may seem a foolish thing to worry one's self with (especially as I intend to do a lot more living between now and then), but I think of it sometimes. I can say with ease that I did this for both my parents at their hour of calling. But I have a feeling the person who will doing this for me will be a hired Jamaican nurse who I call "Mama."

OK, so what about you all? C'mon. Give!

P.S. Just to return to the general issue of the fear of flying, I have a few safeguards that have always worked for disapating any fear at all. When the pilot introduces himself and the co-pilot on the intercom, if the names sound solid to me (that is, names that could possibly not appear in the newspaper as the pilots of the "doomed plane"), then it's all good. Today, the pilot's name was Charlie Parker. I heard that and thought, ah hell, it's all very good.