Resisting fear amid gut-wrenching tragedies like the helicopter-jet collision in DC. | Opinion
When I read news alerts Wednesday night that an American Airlines commuter jet traveling from Wichita to Washington D.C. collided mid-air with a U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter, my heart sank. That no one aboard either aircraft survived this fiery collision over the Potomac River left my stomach in knots.
I simply cannot fathom what family members and friends of these victims must endure in the coming days and weeks as we wait to hear how something so tragic could occur in our skylines. It was the worst commercial aviation disaster in years, according to reports.
Undoubtedly, this tragedy will change lives, not only for the victims but possibly for people like you and I as we watch how it all unfolds. Fear made me cancel plans to travel to New Orleans for Super Bowl weekend after the New Year’s Day truck-ramming attack there. With a trip to D.C. scheduled next month, I am at a crossroads.
Should this tragedy keep us from living our best lives or prevent us from flying? No, according to Bonnie Zucker, a clinical psychologist in Los Angeles. After a Piper PA-42 Cheyenne crashed in Brazil in 2024, Zucker wrote an article on anxiety and the fear of flying that appeared in Psychology Today. In the piece, Zucker wrote that one plane crash does not impact the chances that another plane might have a similar fate.
A life worth living without fear
“It was an independent event, horrible and tragic, but unrelated to other flights,” she wrote. “In 2019, there were 4.5 billion airline passengers worldwide. There are over 150,000 flights per day. It might be helpful to focus on the enormous number of passengers who fly safely all the time.”
I have a trip to D.C. scheduled in late February. I’ve already booked flights there and back from Kansas City International Airport to Reagan Washington National Airport, the final destination of the American Airlines jet before this unimaginable wreck occurred.
Should the fear of something terrible happening affect the type of life worth living? Much like Zucker, I’d say no. But that is a cold, hard truth that I had to confront within myself the last few weeks.
In the immediate aftermath of Wednesday’s collision, I pondered if I should cancel the trip altogether. I’m headed to D.C. to visit friends, attend a music concert called the DMV Winter Fest at Capitol One Arena and check out the sights and sounds of the nation’s capital. In the grand scheme of life, none of these things are all that important.
And weeks prior to that, before Shamsud-Din Jabbar rammed a pickup truck into a busy crowd on Bourbon Street in New Orleans and killed 14 people, I’d booked a flight to Baton Rouge for Super Bowl weekend.
My plan was to fly into that city on Saturday, Feb. 8, take an hourlong bus ride to NOLA the next day to attend festivities surrounding the big game and fly back to Missouri Feb. 10. I had anticipated the Kansas City Chiefs returning to the Super Bowl and they did. What I did not foresee was an attack on the French Quarter a month or so before the game.
The New Year’s Day attack that also reportedly injured 35 other people, made me rethink those plans.
Out of an abundance of caution — let’s just call it what it was at the time: fear — I decided to scrap the idea of being in NOLA Super Bowl weekend. The mass shooting at last year’s Chiefs Super Bowl parade weighed heavily in that decision as well.
Super Bowl trip, out; DC, still in
Which leads me to my current feelings. I refuse to live a life in which I am afraid to travel or enjoy a different experience in another city because of unforeseen circumstances.
I’m 50 years old and have lived a great life. When my son died at age 16 in 2009, my greatest fear was realized. I vowed then I would not be afraid of anything except the wrath of God.
I still plan to visit D.C. next month, and if the Chiefs beat Philadelphia in the Super Bowl, I will attend whatever iteration of a local celebration Kansas City officials have in store.
It saddens me that it took a deadly plane wreck to remind me of how fragile and fleeting life can be. But it makes little sense to fret things beyond our control.
