"Nervous?" she asks over the drone of the airplane engines.

I glance over at the woman in the seat next to me. "A little," I say.

She gives me a sympathetic nod and smile. "You don't fly often, I take it?"

"I fly a lot. Too much, if you ask me."

The woman frowns and furrows her brow. "But you just look so -."

"Green," I say. "It's because I know the risks." And it's true. I know that most accidents happen during take-off and landing. Once you're in the air, you're fine. So long as the plane keeps moving forward. I shudder and look out of the window at the ground, some thousands of feet below me. The familiar landmarks tell me that we are getting close to our destination.

Just as I realise this, the overhead sign lights up and chimes. "Ladies and gentlemen," a distorted voice says over the public address system. "We are about to make our final approach to George Best airport."

I grip the armrests of my seat. "Sorry," I say to the woman next to me. "I've got to concetrate."

"Concentrate?"

I close my eyes and ignore her. All I can hear now is the noise of the airplane's engine as I listen for every change in their tone. All I can feel now is the motion of the plane through the air as it banks and turns. I start to count down towards the landing, following the map that is unfolding in my head. Over the lough now. Passing the towns and villages that line the coast. Low enough to scrape the tops of the masts of the boats in the marina. Over the runway threshold. Down! Down! Concrete!

The aircraft bumps, bangs and shudders as the engines roar into reverse. I feel my body's inevitable reaction take hold.

"'Scuse me!" I grab for the bag in the pouch in front of me and open it.

As always, my stomach is last to land.