Anyone who knows me, will admit that I'm not a big fan of flying. Even though it's become less stressful for me, I just don't like the whole process. It's the turbulence that stresses me out. I'm fine with the take-off and landing, but anything more than a slight bump makes my heart race.
It's not like I don't fly a lot either. Last year, I think I took something like 40 flights, including a long one from Chicago to Denmark (via Germany). I even was brave enough to fly in our "company plane" last June. It's not a Learjet or anything. Far from it really. It's a single engine, propeller plane, piloted by our company president, Larry. I got a much better appreciation for the process and the skill it takes to fly a plane, but it didn't make me less afraid to fly.
With the recent plane crash in Brazil, I just wonder what goes through the minds of the people who are the victims of a crash. That's what I think about the most. The final seconds or moments of a plane disaster. Do the people just have a heart attack and die instantly as they are careening down. Do they suffocate from the lack of cabin pressure?
I was having dinner with Larry last night and we were talking about planes and flying. He's been a pilot since the late 80's. It's much more efficient (both time and money) for him to use a private plane when vacationing and traveling for business, so he does it quite often. He was talking about the Airbus and how it differs from other planes. With most planes, he explained, when the pilot pulls up or down on the yoke, it basically is connected to the wings with a lever to maneuver everything that needs to get done. With the Airbus, it is all electronic. So when the Captain pulls up or down on the yoke, it sends a "signal" to the wings and that makes the wings do what they need to automatically. When the autopilot goes out on a plane, like they suspect the Brazilian flight did, it makes flying much more difficult.
He was also explaining that there's a fine line that can turn a normal flight into a disaster. When planes are up 35,000 feet, the air is so thin that a 20-30 degree difference can mean a plane may have the chance to drop out of the sky or simply break apart.
Pretty scary.
My flight from Baltimore to Chicago was delayed today for over two hours. It was due to sever thunderstorms in the area. The radar indicated a heavy amount of thunder and lightening in the area, so ATC grounded all flights. I was scheduled to leave at 6:25pm, but was able to get on an earlier flight at 3:55pm. With the delay, I actually only left 15 minutes earlier than my original flight.
I wasn't too upset. Not only because my original flight was also delayed and wouldn't have gotten me home until after 9:30pm, but because the pilot made the executive decision to wait a little longer than ATC allowed. He was so concerned about getting everyone--including himself--safely back to Chicago, that he made us wait an additional 30 minutes past our approved departure time.
We sat on the plane and watched the sunny sky turn black. We saw the rain pour down, heard the lightening crack, and listened to the thunder roar. Better on the ground than in the air, I concluded to myself.
When we finally took off, the weather was still iffy. I had a middle seat (I prefer the window), and the older man next to me didn't help my already nervous self. His commentary was actually pretty irritating.
"Oh," he'd say, "there's a lot of lightening over there." He pointed in the direction we were going.
When we got in the air and were in the clouds, he would comment on the heavy rain he watched fall on the wings. His exchange didn't help calm my nerves.
Today's flight was probably the bumpiest I've experienced in a long time. Even when we got out of the clouds, the pilot had to keep the seat belt sign on due to the choppiness of the ride. He kept apologizing, which I thought was nice, but unnecessary.
He was just doing his job. A job that requires skill, attention to detail, and the willingness to care about others. A year or two ago, a flight like this would have scared the crap out of me. While I was still a bit jarred and my heart was racing, I felt confident in the man whose skill controlled my fate.
Is it age that helps ease anxiety or is it experience? I'll find out very soon on my next flight...
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