Fear of flying

Here we go again. In an aluminium tube, travelling at 10,000 feet and at bullet speed. And the only thing preventing us from tumbling uncontrollable into certain death is our believe in physics and that burning dinosaur bones generates enough thrust to keep the goddamn thing in the air.
I've already ordered a Jim Beam with Coke from the trolley dolley, and The Haunted are blaring from my headphones and are annoying me seat neighbour; but I have to keep my mind occupied, otherwise I'll go definitively and completely crazy. Every little movement of the plane makes me grab the armrest as firmly as I can, cold sweat it dripping from my forehead. Like Mr. T., I'd need a anaesthetic to make me fall asleep. I've already tried: Valium, Marihuana, beer, whisky, meditation techniques and herbal tea. Nothing works. Maybe joining the mile-high club would distract me enough to make it through the flight. But occupying the toilet on a plane for hours and hours? I'm past that age and performance by now, so until my health insurance is paying a shrink to heal me, I'll depend on drinking. Drinking on trains. It takes longer, yes, but was has been good enough for the people 100 years ago can't be bad for me today. At least they have free Wi-Fi on most trains these days.