I may or may not have mentioned this already, but I am a big scaredy cat, writes Alana Dixon in Uptown Girl.
The one time I climbed to the top of the water tower, I swear my life flashed before my eyes.
(It was Mum's idea, and lo and behold I think she was the only member of our family more scared at the top than I was. Those stairs are NARROW.)
I have never broken an arm or a leg, probably because I'm too much of a wuss to ever do anything that may result in breaking said limbs. Ironically, I adore roller coasters, but only once I am back on terra firma.
Thankfully I went on the roller coaster at Disneyland (yes, I have been there, and will never ever stop bragging about it) right before it broke down with a full crowd packed on.
I watched all the people climb down from a big loop on a spindly wee staircase, which put me off going on it again.
Decided to ride the ferris wheel instead, and I think the Spanish couple sitting across from me thought I was going to spin out into full-on crazy mode. There were no brown paper bags to hyperventilate into, so it was a pretty intense minute and a half.
Hello, my name is Alana, and I am a wimp.
The reason I'm here confessing this to you today is I am about to get on a teeny little plane and fly to Stewart Island for work. Let's just say I am not thrilled by this prospect. Stewart Island, I love. It's the getting-there part that concerns me.
Little planes scare me. Almost as much as Madonna's arms scare me - seriously, those biceps are freaky. Like, mega freaky.
Bigger planes, I can handle, just.
Mainly because if you are on a big plane, it means you have other things on your mind. Like the 13-hour flight you have to endure, hanging on the whole time so you don't have to use the revolting toilet, and finally getting off the plane and stepping on to the soil of somewhere exotic.
But on a wee plane, things are different.
I think the worst part is that basically you are surrounded by windows, through which you are forced to look out at the sea far, far below. The engine sounds like every. single. inch is a struggle.
The only thing worse than a little plane is a helicopter, and that's because the constant whirring of the blades makes me feel like my head will be chopped off unless I am the height of a hobbit. So I double right over, which makes me look like a real dork as my head is probably about a metre lower than the propellers. Sigh.
I may be exaggerating my irrational fear of miniature aircraft slightly. It's going to be fine. I'm not even bothered any more.
Uh oh - boarding time. God, have the little planes always been THAT little?
Quick - where's the brown paper bag?!
» Alana Dixon is a Southland Times reporter.
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