In my more aviophobic days

I was sitting at the gate in Cincinnati waiting for our flight to depart. Across from me was a woman who in dress and voice appeared to be from the Caribbean. While we were waiting, a bird that have been fluttering around in the skylights flew down and landed at my feet. The woman stared straight at me and said sternly, “That means death!” You can imagine how I took that getting on a plane.

Fortunately, after we boarded, I related this exchange to the young woman sitting next to me. She explained that in some cultures a bird inside the house is an omen of death. She was wonderful and reassuring, and the conversation took my mind off any fear I had. And it was a perfect flight.