I should’ve realized I was getting myself into trouble when the question, “How strong is your stomach?” came up.

Now, I’m not a particularly well-traveled individual so I haven’t been on many airplanes. I considered the occasional flight to the West Coast to be a travel adventure by my no-passport-having standards. So when the Institute’s director, Don Hecker, approached me about going up in a six-seat plane to write a story about the aerial view of the oil spill in the Gulf, my immediate reaction was something close to terror.

I knew this institute would give me the opportunity to do things I’d never done before, but I must have glanced over the “aerial acrobatics” clause in the paperwork. But I’m a journalist. This is not just a job title, but something that defines who I am to an extent. When would I ever have this opportunity again? Never! So I swallowed the lump in my throat, made a mental note to pick up some Dramamine and said, “Sounds great!”

Eight thirty a.m. came faster than it had all week. I was glad that April Buffington would be there taking pictures along with Rodney Hawkins and instructor Mark Raymond on video. I took some comfort in the fact that my fellow passengers were scared too.

The plane itself was much smaller than I’d originally anticipated. “Great,” I thought to myself as I watched the pilot explain how to unlatch the door in case of a crash landing — exactly what you want to hear before going up in one of these.

Two sets of two seats in the back of the small plane faced each other and I was instructed to sit in the seat behind the pilot, which meant I would have to fly backwards. Great. Rodney climbed over the wing and into the co-pilot’s chair while April settled to my left, behind him. Mark sat across from April. After all the equipment and people piled in, there was barely enough room for me to move my legs.

As we strapped in and put on our headsets, April shot me a “good sport” smile and I returned the favor. As we began to taxi toward the runway, I tried to focus on the chatter asking us where we’re going and telling us what runway to use. When we turned onto the runway April and I instinctively grabbed for each other’s hand.

I don’t know about her, but I said a little prayer as “clear for takeoff” rang through my headset and the plane began to gain speed. The takeoff itself wasn’t much different than a commercial flight takeoff except that you can feel every little movement the plane makes. Before we knew it, we were flying over New Orleans headed for the Gulf.

Flying over the city was amazing. We weren’t nearly as high as commercial airlines so all the details that would be lost to altitude were still plainly visible. Dollhouses, toy cars and walking dolls reminded me of The Sims and I began to relax.

The flight was smooth and we were over the town of Venice in no time at all. As we continued to fly south I saw a marsh and the Mississippi River for the first time in my 22 years as a New Yorker. I couldn’t believe the pattern of the islands, dunes and canals that fisherman navigate for fish, crabs and oysters. By the time we began to see evidence of the spill, about 20 miles from the city of Venice, I felt completely at ease. Little did I know that wouldn’t last long.

In all fairness, I’d been forewarned about the sharp turns — or banking — that the pilot was going to do so the multimedia folks could get the shots. Perhaps I underestimated how much you feel in a small plane but when the pilot made that first right bank — my left — I thought my stomach fell out of the bottom of the plane. We began banking to both the left and the right repeatedly before turning to do the same thing while flying in the opposite direction. What seemed like forever to me was probably less than 20 minutes, but by the time we looped around for the second round of banks, I’d requested a barf bag.

The good news is we got great material and I got to see the effects that the oil spill is having on the marshlands. It was definitely an eye opening experience.

The ride back to the airport was spent with my eyes closed, attempting to find my equilibrium again. Luckily, even the pilot was impressed with the smooth landing we made. By the time we got out of the plane and back into the car we were all a little sick, but very excited.

Lesson of the day, fear can hold you back from doing things that may actually turn out to be life-changing experiences. And always have a barf bag handy.

An earlier version of this article gave an incorrect last name for April Buffington.

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