After the recent United Airlines turbulence incident and subsequent news coverage, those with a fear of flying (plus those not afraid to fly!) have been wondering about the wisdom of flying. Especially when flying can lead to turbulence that injured 21 people.  A lot of people hate turbulence or fear it, so the email below from Toni is typical of those we received. Capt. Ron’s response follows.

So, I was just reading this CNN article….(dumb, I know).   Someone described: ”The plane kept falling out of the sky suddenly and would pitch left and right at sharp angles….”

Is it possible that it would just continue to fall?  Can a plane crash from turbulence?

Toni,

Unfortunately this is the truth about turbulence:  you must not take it for granted that just because you have never experienced this kind of sudden and unexpected turbulence, that it cannot happen.  ALWAYS keep you seat belt fastened.  Note that while some people were severely injured, the majority of those on the flight (approximately 270)  came through it unscathed.  Contemplate that…

The aircraft will not keep “falling” because it never did fall—the lift changed suddenly over various parts of the wings due to the turbulent air flow that they encountered causing it to be “thrust” upward and downward at a rate greater than what gravity could generate if it was simply “falling.”

“Falling” is a term that unknowledgeable passengers and reporters use to describe something foreign to them in an attempt to explain what they perceived happened.

When something so dramatic like this happens, it traumatizes both the people on board and those who have experienced similar events or been in lesser turbulence and imagined themselves in the position like those on the United plane.

It certainly would be traumatizing to experience what these people experienced.  But, if EVERYONE had been strapped in securely, we would have been reading only about the otherwise frightening turbulence.  And the airplane is designed and built to withstand this dramatic turbulent episode—witness the fact that the airplane came through unscathed except for where the passengers flying through the cabin came in contact with the interior and damaged it.

One of the comments on the article referred to an injured passenger pictured wearing a neck collar. “He’s an idiot. He should have had his seatbelt fastened,” the commenter said.

While that’s true that he should have been belted in, the fact that he was flying along without his seat belt  is similar to the problem we pilots have in remaining vigilant. When you fly frequently—either as a pilot or passenger—and everything remains so routine, one can become complacent about such mundane tasks as keeping one’s seat belt fastened. Then incidents like this due to turbulence can catch one by surprise causing harm and/or serious injury.

To chide someone after-the-fact seems to come from the same school of thought as telling a fearful flyer that “it’s all in his/her head.” I’m probably being overly sensitive because of my awareness of the problem of being afraid to fly and knowing that it IS all in our heads, but a fearful flyer acknowledging this doesn’t mean they are able to automatically get over fear of flying.

Jack Canfield taught me a parenting strategy once.  He said that often when our children misbehave we send them to their rooms instructing them to “think about what they did.” A better parenting choice would be to tell children to think about “what they could have done.”  The latter not only creates a consciousness that alerts them to the fact that their behavior is a choice but also provides them with help in making different choices (assuming we include that as part of the corrective action.)

I choose to believe that reminding someone who went through an experience like this (injured or not) that choosing to remain in their seat with their seat belt fastened as much of the time as possible is a better choice than shaming them for not doing so and will likely produce a positive change in behavior.

So take the lesson offered here so that you don’t become injured.  Know that discomfort due to turbulence will end eventually, and both you and the airplane will land together safely.  If no one had been hurt, in all probability the crew could likely have continued on to their destination.  FYI, the area along the front range of the Rockies where this plane encountered the turbulence can produce some of the most the most troublesome turbulence in the world.

Toni, try to put the CNN coverage in perspective and know that you will neither crash nor experience the kinds of injuries that these people experienced because you will be the SMART flyer who keeps her seat belt on!

Be Well,

Capt Ron

Related posts:

1. Fear of Turbulence and Pilot Announcements
2. Turbulent Flight Causes Injuries
3. Planes and Fear of Flying the Hollywood Way

As a pilot who makes his living working for the airlines, I’m involved in aviation every day, in one capacity or another.  Being a de-facto diplomat for aviation, I love writing articles that might help fearful flyers.

A certain mystery surrounds aviation. Darkness, ethereal haze, or pure magic and sorcery?  Truthfully, I’m the wrong person to speculate in such matters; flying has always been as natural to me as walking. But, for most people—particularly people with a fear of flying, flying is not at all natural. With little effort, one can laundry-list the ill-feelings and discomforts. Too, the inconveniences that must be endured at the airports and the total relinquishment of control are anything but pleasant and test the patience of even seasoned travelers. Crew members, including pilots, have been known to reach their limits of tolerance at the madness of the entire airport scene.

So, flying is uncomfortable and unpleasant and most certainly something that the fearful flyer dreads. All these emotions get dumped into a bucket that we summarily label:  Fear.

Fair enough. I’ve got something to share with the fearful flyer:  Sometimes I experience fear too. What would make an airline pilot fearful, you wonder?  The list is not terribly long, so here it goes:

1. Thunderstorms. We routinely fly around thunderstorms. From April to November, pilots will be navigating around various areas of thunderstorm activity almost every time we go to work. We don’t fly through them, but we sometimes have to “pick our way around them.”   Now, let me explain what this means, and then you can check out the video.  We actually look at our on-board weather radar, which paints pretty color pictures of the moisture content of the thunderstorm, and then we stay out of those colored areas. Oh, I can hear it now!  You do WHAT?  While we trusting passengers read, sleep and fret, you pilot-types are trying to dodge colored blobs on a screen?!  Like on a video game?  Yep. True story. Surprisingly, very little specific training is provided. We learn this game by years of hard-earned experience and become very good at this mysterious art. The game is deadly serious, and when I start losing, I get scared. Real scared. White-knuckle scared. I remember the terrible nights flying air freight, alone, in poorly equipped piston twins and turboprops. IF the radar worked, I didn’t know how to use it very well, and I had no help. No flying partner. No resources. Nothing like now when we have all the modern resources and wonderfully engineered and beautifully maintained airplanes. Still, thunderstorms scare me. This confession made, I’ve seldom spilled coffee in the cockpit, and virtually all of the flights that involve “picking our way through,” are remarkably smooth and beautiful. Thunderstorms are an awe-inspiring sight to enjoy. From a distance.
2. Icy runways and taxiways. Ironically, the airports with major airline service have wonderful snow removal programs. Millions of dollars are spent on personnel and equipment and training. Denver, Minneapolis and Chicago have really impressive operations when the snow flies. Still, the runways can get slick, and, what is almost worse, the taxiways get slick, and they get obscured by low visibility conditions. I landed in New York’s JFK airport on one dark and stormy night. Actually, the First Officer landed the airplane, after shooting a beautiful ILS approach and making a smooth landing on a runway covered with hard-packed snow. It then took most of an hour and a half to taxi several miles to our gate, on taxiways that simply could not be kept clear of snow and ice. That same night, a cargo-carrying jet actually slid off a taxiway and closed part of the airport. It was a white-knuckle operation for me to taxi the airplane and keep the operation safe. Our crew was excellent; the best that the industry had to offer. Teamwork made the operation safe. Still, I’m never completely comfortable, and never completely relaxed, when airport operating surfaces are slick.
3. The absolute greatest fear that I have while flying is an old fear: Fire. There are no fire trucks at thirty-nine thousand feet. Sure, we have procedures to fight a fire, but it still takes ten minutes to descend and land, assuming that we are flying over a sizable airport. Assuming that we make an emergency descent to an airport that we can land on, then what?  There likely won’t be any planning during such a rare and extreme emergency, so we can do nothing but perform our emergency procedures, and then rely on our experience. I’ve been on fire before, fortunately on the ground, and it turned out to be a relatively low-cost loss of an engine on an old freighter that I was flying. Nobody got hurt, though I was fired… (No pun intended.)

So, pilots have fears too. I developed the ideas for this article while riding around the freeway that circles around and through Phoenix on my Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Why would a sane person ride a motorcycle?  Everybody knows that riding is dangerous and filled with risks and countless unknowns. I was not going anywhere. I was completely alone, on a solitary mission to nowhere. Completely pointless?  Probably, but I get my best thinking done when I’m riding that Harley, or in the flight deck of an Airbus.

There must be a primal need to risk and overcome. We all have fears. Some days, I don’t ride. Some days, I don’t fly. Occasionally, I pad around in my robe all day, and don’t leave the house. A sixth sense for danger?  Perhaps… It would be a good guess that all pilots have this sixth sense. We are a risk averse group of professionals. We are constantly weighing any risk against any potential reward. This characteristic is a large part of what makes airline flight as safe as it is.

This post turned out to be more personal than was originally intended. It is not meant to frighten anyone, but rather, to share and enlighten. We all have fears. Thank you for allowing me to share mine. Unlike the fearful flyer’s fear, mine serves to increase my vigilance and enhance my ability to do my job.

As Nelson Mandela said, “I learned that courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” I hope we can all conquer our individual challenges.

Today’s guest blogger is Capt. Ron’s friend, Capt. John.  He has been flying since 1983 and has logged 20,000 hours. He assists Capt. Ron in the live Phoenix classes when his flying schedule permits.

Related posts:

1. Afraid to Fly? Then Meet the Pilots!
2. What’s to Fear about a Short Hop in a Turboprop?
3. Another Routine Day to Fly

During a recent layover in Philadelphia, I had an opportunity to step out of my usual place in the cockpit to fly as a passenger on a commuter flight to visit friends in Harrisburg.  Since I am used to piloting an Airbus 319, 320, and 321, this flight in a turboprop took me out of my comfort zone, and I could briefly identify with what it’s like to be a fearful flyer.

The transition from Captain to passenger is truthfully one that many pilots don’t like to make. Like fearful flyers, we aviators don’t like to give up control, but sitting in the back of a turboprop airliner means that I’m not in any kind of control. It has been almost  twenty years since I’ve flown this aircraft type, a De Havilland Dash-8, and, even after visiting the cockpit, it didn’t look all that familiar. By itself, this was quite a shock, and the young pilots flying the airplane looked every bit as young as I remembered being. I am grey, and they are not.

So, after the pilot-greeting event, which is a professional courtesy, I clambered into the the aft-most seat on the right side of the cabin, next to a window smeared with the remnants of that morning’s de-ice fluid application.

There wasn’t much to see as the cabin of the Dash-8 is quite small and not terribly long. (It was positively cavernous to me back in 1990!) The seats were comfortable, if somewhat upright. The airplane was well-maintained and clean for the most part. The overhead storage bins were large enough for a briefcase, but the carry-on rolling luggage that folks use these days all had to be tagged at the airstair door of the airplane and put into the cargo bin, which is aft of the cabin. (Another relinquishment of control.)

After the flight attendant closed and locked the cabin door, the airplane slowly came to life. The turboprop engine on the right side of the airplane began to make this electrical dynamo whine, and that great big propeller began to slowly whosh-whosh-whosh with increasing tempo, spinning up to speed. More engine and propeller noise followed as our Dash-8 trundled off the ramp and onto the taxiways.  I could see very little from my window and lost track of the airplane’s direction as we taxied toward the departure runway. Soon the other engine made the whine-whosh-whosh-whosh noise as it was started, and the wheel brakes made quiet noises of friction as the pilots used them to moderate the airplane speed on the taxiway. Mumbled announcements from the flight attendant could barely be heard. After a turn onto the departure runway, our aircraft made this great buzzing and rushing sound as it took off into the inky black but crystal clear air.

From my vantage point behind the wing, I could see the right main landing gear, a feat of mechanical engineering. Still, it was quite something to watch these doors open under the engine nacelle as the landing gear leg folded into multiple pieces before being drawn up into this impossibly small void under the engine’s tailpipe.  All this would have made a great amount of hydraulic noise, but we couldn’t hear much of it over the roar and buzz of the engines.

The Dash-8 is a good airplane, but it is not a jet airplane. The vibration of the slowly turning propellers provides a safe although not terribly smooth ride. The vibrations caused by the large propellers reminds me of  how fatiguing this airplane had been to fly compared to the airplanes I pilot today.

As we fly westward, our aircraft climbed to cruising altitude, which was probably twelve or fourteen thousand feet, or one-third of the normal cruising altitude of a jet airliner.  After a few brief minutes smoothly cruising, we began our descent for our landing.

The air was almost perfectly smooth, as it often is after sunset, and as we approached Harrisburg, we could feel the airplane slow, and the vibrations changed as the propeller speed changed. The flaps came down, followed by the landing gear, reminding me of a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. More flaps came down, and I could see the dirty smears of hydraulic fluid, engine oil, and the remains of de-icing fluid on most surfaces.  Grey smears over shiny paint–some things never change.

The flight attendant made a brief announcement that nobody could really understand, and a short two or three minutes later, we touched down smoothly onto the runway in Harrisburg, about 40 minutes after the flight began. The fan-like hiss of the propellers going into reverse helped slow the airplane. I watched with mild amusement as red-hot sparks from the metallic brake pads tumbled from the wheel brakes as the pilots braked the airplane down to taxi speed.   Yes, this is completely normal.  In a jet airplane, we sit above all the machinery and get to miss out on these additional amusements!

With more mumbled announcements from the fight attendant, we taxied to the gate area, and the pilots shut down the engines. We welcomed the sudden quiet before the door was opened. The passengers slowly walked off the airplane with a crablike pace and posture. Luggage was being off-loaded at the same time, so the passengers simply grabbed their bags before scurrying across the chilly ramp and up a staircase into the nearly deserted and brightly lit terminal.

What does all this mean for the fearful flyer, other than a pilot’s travelog? To begin with, I’d like to acknowledge and own my own apprehension about being a passenger on such a small craft with only thirty-seven seats. (Even though that was BIG IRON to me back in 1990!)  The smaller turboprop airplanes are not as quiet or a comfortable as the modern jet airliner, of any size. They sound different too, and the cabin comforts are spartan, by comparison to nearly any jet airliner. Flying in an airliner like the Dash-8, you, the fearful flyer, have the added stimulation of watching all the mechanical wizardry of the landing gear and the flaps, and your mind gets to wonder about all the noises that are different, but normal. Definitely more sights, sounds, and sensations to bother a fearful flyer in a turboprop!  However, turboprops are used only for shorter distance, commuter travel.

Some very important things are the same as on the larger aircraft. Perhaps most importantly, the flight crew of a Captain, First Officer and one Flight Attendant are every bit as professional as the flight crews flying jet aircraft. The maintenance is done to the same criterion. The rules we follow and the airspace we fly in are the same, as are the runways we use. I was completely confident of my safety on this flight.

Turboprop commuter airliners are a valuable asset to our transportation system. They do feel different, they are different, but they are still safe to fly on. I hope you overcome your fear of flying so you can enjoy the full benefits of our airline system, on an airliner of any size!

Today’s guest blogger is Capt. Ron’s friend, Capt. John.  He has been flying since 1983 and has logged 20,000 hours. He assists Capt. Ron in the live Phoenix classes when his flying schedule permits.

Related posts:

1. Another Routine Day to Fly
2. Fear of Flying and Flight Attendant TLC
3. Afraid to Fly? Then Meet the Pilots!

Takeoffs, turbulence, thunderstorms…fearful flyers worry about a lot of the same things. This week, Mother Nature delivered a new twist to the fear of flying worry list:  a volcano and volcanic ash from the eruption in Iceland.

Exactly what is the big deal with this big white cloud that has grounded so many passengers? What was it that made flying so bad that 95,000 flights were canceled and 29% of all air travel was affected? And maybe some are wondering whether aviation officials are just being a little silly–it’s only a cloud and planes fly through clouds every day.

No question that flying in a region of volcanic ash can be hazardous. This is for a variety of reasons.  The most obvious is that ash has a pumice-like quality. As such, it is very abrasive and can cause excessive wear on the engine parts—specifically the compressor blades (“cold” or front section of the engine) or the turbine (“hot” section where the combustion takes place). This can in turn change the properties of the airflow through the engine from its original design.  The worst case scenario would be to reduce performance and thrust and possibly even flame out. Other collateral damage can be the clogging of sensors both inside the engine and on the exterior of the airplane that feed into the computers.

This volcano in Iceland has been particularly problematic in that its location combined with upper air winds caused it to “clog” the North Atlantic air routes and hover over Western Europe, one of the most heavily traveled parts of the world. In addition, the ash cloud seemed to “hover” over Europe rather than be transitory at altitudes between 20,000 and 35,000 feet, which are the prime altitudes of turbojet airplanes.

Why can’t the airplanes fly above or below the ash?  Because flying above would require flying through it on ascent and descent.  Flying below would result in an inordinately high fuel consumption and significantly reduce the payload in favor of carrying more fuel.

Concern about airline management pressing to resume operations to salvage the “bottom line” would be valid were it left to them alone for the decision to allow airplanes to resume their operations.  But as is the case with so many aspects of airline operations, the airline industry is  highly regulated, and the decision belongs to a host of regulatory agencies, in this case, ones that are in several countries.  In addition to the regulatory agencies, the pilots who will be on board and have a healthy self-protective nature will not fly with any concerns for safety.

This whole incident just goes to show you that the airline industry has safety as its number one concern.

Every day somewhere on the globe exists a volcano erupting. For instance, Alaska alone has 130 volcanoes and volcanic fields, and those make up three-fourths of the U.S. volcanoes over the last 200 years. But, like so many other troublesome problems that come into the awareness of fearful flyers and the traveling public at large, without this latest occurrence, the average air traveler would not have given volcanic ash a second thought.

As the effects of the cloud lessen, aviation operations resume and weary travelers gladly board airliners. As the Iceland volcano becomes “yesterday’s news,” we’ll have to wait until the next crisis. Until then, don’t forget that flying is the safest way to travel on the planet—even when it means that a volcano has grounded a lot of flights.

No related posts.

Capt. Ron’s Answer:

Antidepressants for pilots…I hate to tell you this but it’s long overdue.  I have been a proponent of the FAA allowing pilots to take certain medications for depression for years for two main reasons:  the first is that there are and have been pilots taking antidepressants for years, and this will bring the issue into the light and allow them to be properly administered and directed; the second reason is because some pilots NEED them.

The airline industry has been a leader (even over the medical profession) in drug and alcohol awareness and prevention.  The drug of choice for many pilots has always been alcohol.  Until the program was developed for a pilot to seek treatment and then enter an intense monitoring program, there were many pilots whose drinking was either unnoticed or ignored.  And not surprisingly, many had underlying depression as an accompanying malady.  Now the airline industry has the most successful record in any industry for returning pilots with the lowest recidivism (less than 1%).  The medical community has modeled their program for drug and alcohol abuse after ours.

The Delta crash at DFW in 1987 disclosed that the pilot had antidepressants in his blood in the post-crash autopsy.  When you listen to the cockpit voice recorder, there is a noticeable non-responsiveness on the part of the captain to his First Officer’s query about “lightning coming out of that one”:– the area of weather ahead of them resulting in the fateful windshear that proved fatal.

Thirty years ago we didn’t have any of the knowledge of brain science, depression, and the current vast array of treatments including the variety of medications that we have today.  Currently, if a pilot admits to being depressed and is formally diagnosed, he/she automatically loses his/her medical and career.  That is senseless when current medications exist (combined with mandatory counseling and monitoring) that would permit him/her to continue without cause for concern.  Think of the alternative where the fear of losing your livelihood and accompanying income results in either self-medicating with alcohol or medications obtained on the sly.

Despite the current policy of random screening for alcohol and drugs, some pilots will gamble out of fear and ignorance to preserve their jobs.

Yes ma’am, I’m a strong proponent of a program to provide for monitoring pilots with depression issues keeping the problem “in the Light” and out of the shadows where it has been for years.

Finally, let me speak to the issue of pilots taking antidepressants to which I have alluded.  The randomness of the problem combined with the ever-increasing technological advances in aviation minimize the possibility of a “perfect storm” of circumstances coming together is such a way where a pilot on antidepressants contributed in the slightest to an accident.  But, that should never serve to excuse our failure to be vigilant in this area.

When we know better, we do better.  And we have known for a long time that identifying pilots with depression and treating them appropriately is not only the right thing to do, but the safest thing.

Keep your eye on the ball…the problem with fear of flying is obsessive thinking as a means of feeling in control.  And the feeling is an illusion. One thing I have admired about you, as well as the many other fearful flyers I meet,  is your insatiable thirst for information.  Keep it up.  Don’t settle for all that’s available in the media.  For that matter, as Wayne Dyer says:  ”Don’t believe everything that you think.”  We fall prey to our own brains sometimes.

Happy Landings,

Capt. Ron

Related posts:

1. Afraid to Fly? Then Meet the Pilots!
2. Fear of Flying Pill–Myth or Cure?
3. 3 Things Pilots Fear

The crew arrived at the airport on a routine but chilly Saturday morning in early March.  It was a cold almost balmy morning due to the absolute stillness of the dark night air. Our passengers—those afraid to fly or not—are also likely making their way to Metro airport. They were no doubt having more of an adventure than we were getting families ready, parking cars, and navigating the terminal areas.

Time zone differences made it the middle of the night for our Phoenix-based crew, yet we share cordial morning greetings riding in the hotel van to the terminal, punchy and wide awake, the too-hot coffee from the hotel restaurant having a positive effect. Michigan mornings like these remind me of my youth, and I crave a cigarette or a dip of chewing tobacco although I quit those habits years ago.

We get to the airplane, and sensing that the pre-flight operation will run better if I’m not there, I take orders for breakfast from the First Officer (F/O)and the Flight Attendants. My treat. This one is on the Captain, and it sure feels good to do something nice and unexpected for my co-workers. I leave the operation in the charge of my flying partner and walk off to stand in line at the purveyor of quality airport food, which, in Detroit, is found under the golden arches, a long walk down the concourse.

The boarding process is halfway finished when I return.  My crew is pleased to get exactly what they ordered. I settle in for a hot cup of ship’s coffee. Airplane coffee: hot, dark and bitter. It tastes good. The F/O says that we are covered with morning frost and that we must de-ice prior to takeoff. This will create a slight delay, but we should arrive in Phoenix on time, in approximately five hours. Fearful flyers sometimes express concerns about de-icing.  However, de-icing is a normal part of  wintertime flying—that is, if a flight originates from some frozen-over city— and one can count on the airplane being covered with frost for the first departure of the day, which normally occurs before the sun is much above the horizon.

We push back from the gate with an almost-full airplane and start our left engine to do a single-engine taxi to the de-ice pad on the other side of the airport. Our frosty airplane creaks and groans as its cold, hard tires roll over the uneven pavement of the taxiways.

In the de-ice pad, we configure the airplane for the application of de-ice fluid. Switches and levers operate valves and flight controls. Checklists and communication. The hot fluid is sprayed on the airplane. That too-sweet smell, reminiscent of automotive anti-freeze, fills the air. Fortunately, the smell dissipates quickly, the end result being an airplane free of all frost and safe for flight.

Our second engine is started, and we are cleared to taxi and then takeoff for Phoenix. By now the sun is up. The sky is a beautiful azure blue, spotted by a low and broken layer of thin-but-dark grey clouds. During our takeoff, the de-ice fluid on the smooth, rounded nose of the airplane, called the radome, runs back quickly over the cockpit windows forming hundreds of thin, opaque zig-zag eddies, looking like a science fiction oscilloscope, but multiplied many times in parallel. The radome houses our weather radar antenna, and although rain is not forecast for our flight today, weather radar is our safety requirement on all airline passenger flights.

As our aircraft accelerated to our climb and cruise speed above ten thousand feet, the eddies stopped, and the fluid pooled in large droplets along the back edges of the windshield panels. I’m reminded of childhood trips in the back seat of the family station wagon, watching a light spring rain dance in whorls on the side windows. From years of experience, I know that this airplane will drip de-ice fluid from her greasy belly for the next several flights. That sweet smell will remain, a perfume of safe flight, for many flight hours. Experienced pilots will remember the hard years of long ago, when such resources were not available. We have come a long way from having a broom, a length of rope, and a pot of warm coffee for de-icing purposes.

Our flight takes us west over Southern Michigan. I know this area well, for Michigan was my childhood home. Looking down, the land seems almost foreign, the towns so close together. The speed limits on the roads are higher now, the towns have grown, and, in so many respects, the world has become much smaller, thanks in part to the jet engines that equip our aircraft.

Lake Michigan slides below us. The southern tip is a brilliant crescent of white ice, miles wide, standing guard in front of the steel mills of Gary, Indiana.  I’m reminded of my early aviation career during Chicago and Milwaukee winters when I flew small-package air freight. Looking back, those were good times. Back then, I only thought of surviving until the weekend and hoping to eventually go to work for the airlines. The paychecks were as minimal as the experience was vast.

It is mostly smooth as we cross over middle America. Better than half of the passengers sleep. One passenger, seated in coach, complains. Two in first class have had too much to drink and blessedly fall fast asleep.

The choppy air begins as we pass south of Pueblo, Colorado.  The F/O turns on the fasten seat belt sign and makes a gentle announcement to the passengers.  The flight crew understands the feelings that fearful flyers often experience when flying through turbulence. We make these announcements for your protection and your reassurance.  Fearful flyers are not alone when they share their flight with us. We understand. We care about you.

Many of the passengers largely ignore the announcement from the flight deck and the flight attendant’s directives, and continue using the lavatories. The turbulence is really only a mild-but-irritating chop, and nobody falls down or complains. Eventually the air smooths out, and we gently descend for our landing in Phoenix.

By some minor miracle, my landing is a smooth one, what we call a “greaser” in the industry. We touch down well ahead of schedule but end up having to hold for our arrival gate. Light westerly winds have allowed most of the fleet to get to the Phoenix hub well ahead of schedule, before the outbound flights are able to depart for their destination cities. The ramp and taxiways are a snarled mess with many airplanes of different sizes but with matching colors.  Eventually, we taxi to our arrival gate and, as the engines make a whining moan as they spool down after shutdown, I look at the clock on the instrument panel and notice, with slight disappointment, that we are a good twenty minutes behind our scheduled arrival time.

Our passengers are quite appreciative of the crew as they deplane, thanking us for the smooth flight. Nobody seemed to be any worse for the wear after being on this airplane for most of six hours.  Indeed, we had flown over much of this great nation, and it is only slightly after 10:00 o’clock in the morning, Phoenix time.

Though we arrived slightly behind schedule, our safe, mostly smooth flight was very typical of the service that the airlines provide. The level of professionalism and concentration that it takes to make these flights happen makes me proud to be part of the crew, proud of the airline I fly for, and proud to be part of the airline industry. When one is a member of a flight crew, he or she is truly surrounded by professionals. These people care. We care.

Welcome aboard!

Capt. Ron’s friend, Capt. John, is once again our guest pilot blogger to bring you his flightdeck perspective. He writes to provide a service to fearful flyers so they can see how incredibly safe (and routine!) flying is.  Capt. John has been flying since 1983 and has logged 20,000 hours. He assists Capt. Ron in the Phoenix fear of flying classes whenever his flying schedule permits.

Related posts:

1. What’s to Fear about a Short Hop in a Turboprop?
2. Can Planes Crash from Turbulence?
3. 3 Things Pilots Fear

Image by State Library and Archives of Florida via Flickr

PBS Frontline aired an excellent documentary recently called “Flying Cheap.” It highlighted the problems with regional airlines—those airlines that supplement major airlines by flying routes not profitable to fly with larger planes.  Frontline chose to air the program on the anniversary of the Colgan Air crash near Buffalo, NY.

I was surprised when I saw the special.  And if I was surprised, I imagined you, the flying public, was shocked.  Since I am an known as the fear of flying guy through my work at Fearless Flight.com, I immediately wondered what the reaction of fearful flyers would be.  I don’t know for sure, but I can imagine a fearful flyer thinking something like, “But, Capt. Ron, you said that flying is the safest way to travel on the planet.”

I have said that often in my fear of flying classes.  And I will continue to say that.  Why?  Because it’s true.  How do we know that?  The current plane crash statistics tell us that the chances of crashing are 1 in 23 million.  What these statistics tell us is DESPITE the issues raised in the broadcast, flying on a commercial airliner remains the safest way to travel. However,

knowing the statistics has rarely helped anyone overcome their fear of flying because the solution isn’t a problem solved by logic alone. The solution comes from moving through your fears in spite of your irrational thoughts.

How Negative Bias Works

Sounds a bit like double-talk—even to me.  Here’s what I mean.  Phobias like fear of flying are fueled by stories in the media through a process called “negative bias.”  If I think that flying is inherently dangerous, then I will be drawn to stories and events that support this thinking.  That’s the way the brain works.  If I brand myself as a Republican or Democrat, then I have a preference for the values and principles espoused by each respective party and consequently don’t look for new information.  I’m even more likely to filter out information that might actually cause me to change my mind!

The NTSB and Breaking the Accident Chain of Events

After watching the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) hearings last year, I predicted that the Buffalo accident would be a catalyst for some needed changes in the airline industry.  These changes range from increased attention to the amount of time a pilot can remain on duty to the relationship between major airlines and their “code share” partners (those regional airlines that combine marketing resources and livery paint schemes to provide seamless travel for passengers).

The difference between you and me when viewing a broadcast like “Flying Cheap” or the NTSB hearings is perception, which varies widely because of our different backgrounds.  Before “Flying Cheap” was aired, you had no idea about the issues that were revealed.  On the other hand, I have been an advocate for Human Factors training for years-not just for pilots but for entire airline organizations. Safety happens on many levels in an airline, and accidents are the culmination of a chain of events. The pilots are often the ones who have the last opportunity to break the chain and prevent an accident, but they’re not the only ones. Other employees, such as mechanics in the Valuejet crash mentioned in the broadcast, are also responsible.

So I wasn’t shocked by the authenticity of the information or the way it was presented.  I encourage the process and whatever it takes to raise our collective consciousness to prevent accidents.  And no other industry has such a respectable tradition of investigating accidents to find causes and initiate corrective action as the airline industry.  I’ve said before, if each and every automobile accident were investigated and reported with the same diligence as a commercial airline accident, the number of automobile fatalities each year would be a fraction of the approximate 40,000 that do occur.

The same forces that cause us to resist change on an individual level are magnified in humanity as a group.  When do most fearful flyers initiate change?  When the cost of continuing existing behavior is outweighed by the benefits of changing.  When do organizations or industries (like airlines and the Federal Aviation Administration) change?  When the cost of continuing existing behavior is outweighed by the benefits of change.  And sometimes those benefits are not evident until public outrage is raised.  That, sadly, appears to be part of the human condition.

The fact is:  flying on a commercial airliner—including regional airlines—is still the safest way to travel on earth.  That should NEVER, however, serve as an excuse to reduce the vigilance that allows us to make that claim.

I will continue to promote airline flying as the safest way to travel on the planet.  Why?  Because the statistics support it to be so.  At the same time, I will continue to be an advocate of change in the airline industry to  improve those statistics even more.  Why?  Because I believe that it’s the right thing to do.

The Truth about Fearless Living

How do I view the issues raised in a story like “Flying Cheap”?  That’s easy—you tell the truth—always.  And the truth is that the issues raised in the story are real—and they have and will continue to have consequences if they go unacknowledged.  At the same time, if you use the likelihood of being killed in an accident as the only criteria for selecting your mode of transportation, you cannot justify getting into your car to go to the store.

Fear has a real purpose of alerting us to potential danger so that we can make a reasonable assessment about risk.  Fear is not supposed to prevent us from living a full, rich life.

So I choose to live fully and fearlessly. I hope you do the same.

Related posts:

1. Pill-Popping Pilots–Are You Kidding Me?

December 17 is a historic day in aviation.

In 1903, 106 years ago, the Wright brothers made their first flight.

It was a monumental event then, but today their flight wouldn’t cover the distance from one wingtip on a Boeing 747 to the other.

Their feat was pretty amazing and we honor their achievement, but today’s modern airliners just aren’t Orville and Wilbur’s airplane anymore.

Modern commercial airplanes are technological miracles compared to the Wright Flyer. The most significant improvements that have made flying the safest way to travel on the planet have been made in engines, air traffic control, and the study of human factors–how to make aviation even safer by eliminating the human causes of accidents.

Speaking of safety and airplane crashes, did you know you have a better chance of being elected President of the United States than being killed in an airplane crash?  And to achieve that statistical crash, you would have to fly once a day every day for 63,000 years.

While it’s tempting to feel more “in control” when driving in a car, facts say it just isn’t so.

So today we remember the Wright brothers for getting us started on our way to the safest and fastest way to travel.

Related posts:

1. The Crashing Side of Flying

Okay, so yes, I’ll admit it.  Airplanes do crash.  But the likelihood of it happening to the one you’re on is pretty slim.  The latest airplane crash statistics show that your kid has a better chance of growing up to be President of the United States than you have of dying in a plane crash.

So let’s talk for a moment about fearful flyers’ dwelling on the, shall we say, negative side of flying.

Show fearful flyers two newspaper stories–one about safety statistics and another one about a plane crash–and I can bet they’ll read the one about the plane crash and ignore the other one.

Perhaps you want more concrete evidence of their negative flying bias.  Here are two.  The traffic on our crash statistics page gets the most visitors…because of  fearful flyers and their crashing mentality.

My blog titles that are negative about flying get more readers than those with positive-sounding titles. Like the title of this post–did you decide to read it because of that dreaded “crash” word in the title?

Like I said, fearful flyers like to dwell on the bad side of flying–crashing and dying.

In our fear of flying classes, we tell fearful flyers that they have to do something different.  In other words, stop dwelling on the plane crashing and remember about how safe it is.  Capt. Ron is fond of saying, “Flying is the safest way to travel on the planet.”

So how do you change the channel of the airline crash channel that plays continually in your mind? If you need some reinforcement about the good parts about flying–the soaring and the safe takeoffs and landings, then I have just the place for you.

It’s called Flight Level 350. The best way to describe this site is that it’s like a YouTube of Aviation.  Video after video of planes doing what planes do best.  Planes of all sizes and shapes.

I just watched a video of a huge Qantas plane, certainly the biggest I’ve ever seen, takeoff.  It was a beautiful site.  As I watched the takeoff roll, I thought of all the times I’ve heard fearful flyers say, “How can that big piece of metal possibly get off the ground?”  This Qantas plane just gently lifts up off the ground and points skyward.   Without any hesitation or being like the Little Engine That Could “I think I can I think I can.”  This huge mass of an airplane just lifts up and off it goes.

If you have a trip planned and find yourself dwelling on crashing, dying, and turbulence, do something different.  Bring up this site and watch a few videos.  Marvel at the marvelous machines.  Then visualize your flight floating and soaring like the airplanes you’re watching.

And then repeat this mantra over and over: “I think I can, I think I can” and pretty soon you WILL become a fearless flyer!

Related posts:

1. Planes and Fear of Flying the Hollywood Way
2. Afraid to Fly? Then Meet the Pilots!
3. Today Wasn’t A Good Day to Fly

Like maybe all those tears and all that anxiety qualified you for an academy award or something.

Well, fear of flying is very real I’ve discovered in the four years I’ve been working with fearful flyers.  So when a former fearful flyer sent me the link to a Wall Street Journal video clip below, I wanted to share it with you.  Because in the movies, those airplanes you see aren’t real.  Not at all.  The airplanes may very well have been the work of the movie studio in this video link.

Too bad they aren’t looking for fear of flying extras.  And, too bad they don’t rent out their studio for fearful flyers to come in and crawl all over those fake planes in an attempt to become familiar with what scares them.

Going on an airplane that doesn’t go anywhere is what we do in our twice yearly Plane Truth class.  We board a stationary aircraft and give fearful flyers an opportunity to sit on a plane for an extended period, ask questions, and see the cockpit up close.  This is especially helpful for people who haven’t ever flown, someone with claustrophobia, or a fearful flyer who hasn’t been on a plane in several years.

Fear of flying isn’t a made-in-the-movies story.  It’s very real.  But it can also be overcome so that you can have a happy-ever-after lifetime of traveling by airplane.

Related posts:

1. The Crashing Side of Flying
2. Can Planes Crash from Turbulence?
3. Fear of Flying–No Men Allowed!