It’s just not fair.

Just this week, Al jetted off to Montana to murder small animals.

Liz flew off to London. She takes neither pills nor firewater to cross the mighty ocean. “I like to fly,” she said in that peculiar English accent they all affect. “I like it even when it’s rough.”

As the years dwindle down to a precious few, there are places I would like to fly to as well. I would like to see the Alps, if not ski them. I would like to drive through the French wine country and sample everything, so I could bore my friends to death for the rest of my life.

And, of course, I would love to revisit the rolling green hills of Ballyvourney, where they actually let the Twomeys breed. Then off to the Abbey Theater in Dublin for a few Shaw plays with Jameson waiting at the bar between acts.

But no.

Some of us simply cannot fly.

I have flown to the Emerald Isle twice and never left my seat, never even unbuckled my seat belt. Two round trips, that’s 28 hours without visiting the loo. Not only that, I hate people who do. Can’t they all just sit in their seats until we land, like good boys and girls? All that moving around can’t be good for the plane.

Of course 9-11 did nothing to ease the problem. I am not alone.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, the percentage of Americans who have a fear of flying so intense that it qualifies as a phobia or anxiety disorder powerful enough to keep them off airplanes is close to 6.5 percent. Those most paralyzed by their flying fear, called aviophobia, sometimes turn to programs like the one at Westchester County Airport in New York, run for 10 years by the Anxiety and Phobia Treatment Center at White Plains Hospital.

People who suffer from phobias inhabit a world apart.

“Anxiety is an altered state of consciousness,” Dr. Martin Seif told The New York Times. An anxiety or panic attack is often acutely physical, marked by sweating, numbness in the hands and feet, and a pounding heart, leading sufferers to think they are having a heart attack. In such an episode, “the images in your mind feel like they can really happen,” Dr. Seif said.

Check, check, check and check.

It is often said that flying is safer than driving, however, since fears and phobias for an individual are highly subjective, statistics are usually not relevant to the fear. This can be attributed to the perceived consequences of an air incident compared to an automobile crash, and the lack of control or severity of the unexpected events while flying, experts tell us.

A collision at two feet is less horrible to consider than one at 30,000 feet.

Yes, we all know that the risk that a typical individual in the U.S. will die in a transportation accident during a single year is far higher for motor vehicles (1 in 7,700) than for aircraft (1 in 2,067,000).

Tell me that when I am in a metal cigar tube flying at 500 miles an hour a few miles in the sky. Irrelevant.

How do I fear flying? Let me count the ways.

Experts have identified the components of fear of flying as anxiety over fear of heights, enclosed spaces, crowded conditions, being trapped in hot (germy) air, being required to wait passively, not understanding all the strange sounds, actions and sensations, turbulence, dependence on unknown mechanical devices, dependence on unknown pilot’s judgment, not feeling in control and, of course, the possibility of terrorism.

Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check and check.

Tick, tock.

The years are slipping by. Every time I see a film of Ireland I think about another trip. I have nothing against France because they were right about the war all along. Ah, Switzerland.

But the second-to-last time I was on a plane, it got hit by lightning. Honest to God. The last time, I got off (pushing a pregnant stewardess out of the way) before we even started the engines.

That time, Blue Eyes (a relaxed flier) dismissed me as a “big baby.” When we got hit by the lightning, she calmly finished her cup of tea while I had my seat in a death grip. “My hero,” she said.

Don’t care.

Firewater doesn’t work. Pills have not worked in the past. Maybe I will fly to Florida this week to see the Red Sox fritter away another pennant.

Maybe I will drive.

It’s not fair. I am not a big baby.

I am an aviophobe.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.