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

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