Fear of flying is a strange thing. I never had any issues until I happened to be on a regional flight on one of those tiny little Embraer three-seat-wide jets.

Fear of flying is a strange thing. I never had any issues until I happened to be on a regional flight on one of those tiny little Embraer three-seat-wide jets. We are probably 10 minutes away from starting descent, when suddenly I have the first real panic attack I have ever experienced: It feels as if some part of my lizard brain has started spamming the “IMMINENT MORTAL DANGER GET OUT NOW” signal, throwing the rest of my brain into chaos trying to form a coherent threat model. It seems to have something to do with the claustrophobic cabin and the lack of direct control, but everything becomes a fever-dream blur. I don’t really remember how the episode ended other than that I was ultimately able to walk off the plane unaided, but now whenever I fly, I triple check I’m not on a compact airliner like that.