Coping with a fear of flying

A nightmare, many years ago, of being in a plane that was going down. I remember feeling it. The pressure in my stomach from the rapid, uncontrolled descent that seemed to go on forever. It was one of those dreams that feels so realistic, you have no choice but to think it either already happened, or would happen in your future.
I think that dream is what started my intense fear of flying.
I've actually flown several times. Once as a kid, I remember it feeling strange, but otherwise it wasn't an issue. I was probably 4 years old.
As an adult, each time I flew, I was locked tense the entire trip. I can't move, I can't eat, can't read, nothing... I just sit, staring out the window. My view of the ground & the clouds is the only bit of control -- the only bit of sanity -- the only 'I'm OK for this moment' -- that I have. On an 8 hour flight, as you can imagine... it's pretty rough.
So the last time I went, I decided to let my doctor know about the anxieties beforehand. She prescribed me a few Ativan to take before & during the flight.
So I've got Ativan in me but I'm doing worse than ever. So I buy one of those mini bottles of wine & take a few sips. I am now in a calm haze. Not 'OK' really, but coping.
Layover in Minnesota ... outside to get air & a smoke ... "I'm not getting back on," I say. Let's
rent a car. A car? It's snowing. Are you nuts? We're 3 hours from home... or 3 days if
we drive....
So we go back in. Since we'd gone outside, we had to go through the whole safety check / security line again. Wouldn't you know it, I get randomly chosen to be pulled from the line of hundreds of suspicious-looking characters. While I'm standing there barefoot, being felt-up by one of the not-so-bad-looking security people because the rivets in my jeans set off the wand, I wonder what's next ... & think to myself ..... "is this a sign?"
They decide I'm not a threat to the public after they've have searched every inch of me & my carry-on & finally allow me to put my Nike's back on. We power-walk the 1/2 mile to our gate. The plane has already been loading but we get there in time. I take a deep breath. They take my boarding pass & scan it & it beeps. The guy tries it again. Beep-p-p-p-p. He gets on the phone & calls someone, he speaks quietly so I have no idea who he called or what's going on. The security person who had gotten to know me so well 10 minutes earlier, shows up & tells him I had gone through the checkpoint & everything should be fine. He says he can't let me on without them fixing my ticket.
We power-walk the 1/2 mile back to the security area, they scan my ticket, & we power walk back to the gate again.
Another deep breath.
Scan. Beep-p-p-p-p. They look at each other, shrug, & tell me to go ahead.
This I find very comforting... and once again I'm wondering, is this a sign? Am I supposed to not get on this plane?
We get on. We sit.
Now keep in mind, my buzz is COMPLETELY gone by now. I need to self-medicate. I pull the 1/2 full mini-bottle of wine out of my carry-on & take a sip. I sit... & pray.
A very effeminate male flight attendant is offering beverages to the passengers. He gets to us & I'm just sitting there like a stone, clutching my wine. I say: "no thank you, I don't need a beverage right now". He looks down at my white knuckles, still clutching my white zinfandel. He snarls like a woman scorned & says: "where'd you get a-that!?" "On our last plane..." I replied. "Well..." in an even snottier tone, he says: "you shouldn't have been allowed to, it's against the rules!" I told him they had checked my carry-on & no one said anything. "well, they should have, you can't bring wine from one plane to another". He whined. They were both Delta planes I told him. "It doesn't matter, it's against the rules, you can't keep it ..." & he held out his hand.
Now this partial-ounce of wine cost me four bucks, & I'm not one to waste... so I look him in the eye, twist off the mini cap, chug the 1/2 bottle, and hand it to him empty. His response was a disgusted sounding: "oh... that's nice" (with a neck-roll). I respond to his highness by telling him that I would like a beverage after all. And I order another bottle.
The dink brought me my wine, took my $4 and I didn't see him again.

The plane took off & my self-medicating techniques started kicking in & the flight home was actually really nice. Beautiful sunset. I found that to be quite calming... (yes, I'm sure it was the sunset & not the alcohol.)

Well, that was the last time I was on an airplane. So, how does a person cope with a fear of flying? Prescription drugs, alcohol, & several distractions. That, and vowing to never fly again.