The Unlikely Event
October 27, 2003
A relatively recently development in my life has been the fact that I've been spending a lot of time on airplanes. I'd travelled a good bit as a kid, going back and forth to India several times, but as an adult I'd generally only been flying once a year until last year, when I flew at least 30 individual legs. I'll be besting that number significantly before this year is through. Each time I fly, though, I find myself wishing for more information on what's going on with the plane, and what else I can find out about my flight.
Though I lament the fact that my frequent trips mean going to the airport is no longer an "event", that loss is more than mitigated by the fact that I almost never get nervous about flying any more. I realized that I'm generally very calm on a flight back from the U.K. about two weeks ago, when some very minor turbulence had the passenger next to me clutching my hand and doing a quite poor job of masking the fact that she was praying. I don't mean to insult my fellow passenger, as some very good people are nervous, cowardly flyers, but it's exceedingly unlikely that I'd want to be holding hands with the same person who has insistently denied me the use of an arm rest.
The universe, of course, has a perverse sense of humor so I was burdened with a particularly unpleasant takeoff last week when departing from Newark, and it gave me occasion to reflect on how airlines could do a better job of dealing with the inevitable concerns of those who fly infrequently and are afraid of turbulence.
The key thing to remember is that people's fears about flying aren't rational. We all know that driving is statistically more dangerous, but driving doesn't generally involve ceding control to a complete stranger and operating in a circumstance when any one of dozens of significant mechanical failures can result in a terrifying 7 mile plunge to a fiery death. So pulling out the actuarial tables is rarely sufficient for quieting qualms.
Like most fears, I think fear of flying (or rather, fear of crashing) comes from a lack of information. Now that I fly a lot, I understand the vagaries of takeoff and landing, the subtleties of boundaries between different air masses, the stench of a completely inebriated cabin crew. I can tell when a flight's about to get unpleasantly rough.
Those of you who are also frequent flyers may be able to appreciate my credentials here; I was once on a flight so bad that we actually got two free rounds of alcoholic drinks, not least because most of the first round ended up getting poured into people's lap's. For those not familiar with the practice, air hosts operate on the same principle as casinos and children's birthday parties, with the understanding that cranky, petulant guests are much easier to placate when they've been plied with unending quantities of complimentary refreshments.
So how to deal with the nervous nellies who whimper their way through a standard bout of gentle bumps? More information. The in-flight maps with air speed and altitude are fantastic, and I'm glad more airlines are displaying this information while we're in the air. But someone who doesn't fly often might not know that the runway they're using to take off is perpendicular to the eventual direction of travel, and will thus require a banked turn shortly after takeoff. That steep roll means people on the side of the plane nearest the outside of the curve will be feeling weightless when the plane levels back out after completing the turn. I've seen more looks of sheer terror caused by that banking and floating than almost any other common event during a flight.
Similarly, those of us who aren't armchair meterologists might not know the various levels of the atmosphere that we're punching through on the way up, and might not be able to anticipate that a certain number of feet will be accompanied by a certain amount of shaking. Granted, we can often see air boundaries due to the change in cloud cover, but a lot of the people who are most scared aren't exactly eager to look out the windows.
So what to do? Have the crew explain these things, dammit! A friendly voice telling the most trepidatious passengers that the normal operations of the flight may cause uncomfortable situations would let them mentally prepare, instead of forcing the wandering, creative and cruelest part of the mind to start imagining horrible fates at every turn. Most flight crews will tell a flight about significant turbulence, if only to urge folks to buckle up, but a broader explanation of what's going on with the plane might do a lot to convert someone from an occasional passenger to a true frequent flyer.
Finally, airlines ought not forget about the almost lyrical beauty of flying. It's still amazing that we've made this incredibly complicated machines, and this even more complex infrastructure, to allow people to defy gravity on such a regular basis as to be uneventful. Those of you who are familiar either with the Newark airport, the stretch of the New Jersey turnpike which approaches Manhattan, or the vagaries of furnishing an apartment in the greater New York City area are undoubtedly familiar with what I call "the Ikea runway", which runs parallel to the Turnpike and begins right across from the furniture store.
It's a north-south runway, parallel to the Hudson River my most recent approach to it began heading southbound at night just as New York City's lights were coming on. I was opposite the side of the plane which was facing the skyline, but I knew we needed to trace a semicircle before landing, so I just waited patiently. A thick cover of clouds prompted our pilot to drop us to just a few thousand feet a bit earlier than normal, so we were low enough to distinctly make out individual cars and houses on the ground, and as we swung around, I got a fantastic view, first of the Atlantic, and then of my town.
I counted one, two bridges from higher up, and then focused on the cars on the Turnpike as we came in closer. I've driven that stretch a million times, and it's usually all I can do to keep from racing the planes as they come in, directly parallel to where I was driving. But this time I was in the plane and free to gloat, as very few of the Jersey commuters were able to approach at anywhere near 200 miles per hour. Finally having made our point and won the drag race, we braked to a halt.
I probably had a greater appreciation of the elegance and smoothness of the approach from having done it so many times, but the geek in me still wishes I had more iinformation. And even those who are less geeky would probably feel a lot braver about flying if they had that information, too.
1:10 AM
1 TrackBack
Anil Dash has a great entry in his blog about feeling nervous on airplanes. As I read along, two strange thoughts entered my mind.... Read More
21 Comments
Leave a comment
- Earlier: Rush Redux
- Next: Life Can Be So Nice
As an inexperienced, mildly poor airplane passenger, I agree wholeheartedly. I can understand on one level that turbulence and the shaking and the banking and the floating are all normal and typical and not life-ending events, but the "OHMYGODI'MTRAPPEDINABIGMETALTUBETHAT'SGOINGTOCRASH!!!!" part of my brain just doesn't listen.
Even just having a small booklet or something, "How Flight Works" to read that explains all those stages and sensations and how you can tell when you're entering a different layer of the atmosphere ('cause I sure couldn't tell you) would be useful.
Information works to placate the screamming ninny in the middle of my brain much better than alcohol.
Read "Airframe" by Michael Crichton. I read it before my first flight. It is a work of fiction, but it explains the different sounds and stages of flight.
I'm not sure that feeding the passengers lots of alcoholic beverages is such a good idea, given those stories you hear from time to time of "air rage" that turn out mostly to be drunks getting violent.
I don't know, Anil. I'm an aerospace engineer by education, and every time I board an aircraft, I'm reminded of two things:
1. I know how many things could cause us to take that terrifying, fiery plunge.
2. Some of the idiots I went to class with are designing these birds.
That said, I'm usually able to fake a mien of "this stuff doesn't bother me at all", because after a while, I just made myself know that I was going to die sometime, and whenever, wherever, I was cool with that.
[Free random tip: if you're flying back in steerage, er, coach, sit as close as you can to the wing roots. If you have to sit on an extreme, favor sitting to the rear of the wings over sitting forward. The closer you are to the center of aerodynamic moments--which is usually just aft of the wing root--the less motion you feel no matter what's happening.]
I've learned the great verities of flying [for me] are to have a couple drinks before you board and try to sleep as much as possible.
As a former resident of central Jersey with an ex-girlfriend from West New York, I've done that drive a million times as well, and was always craning my neck to watch the Continental jets float in. One very memorable night I was heading past the airport at about 3 a.m., and off on the main runway there was a large fireball. I raced home and fired up my puny 36.6 modem to see what happened, and apparently a UPS plane had somehow flipped on landing and burst into flames. The crew all got out fine, but it made me wonder what the scene would have been like had I been there 5 minutes earlier and actually witnessed it.
On United (at least -- I don't fly many other airlines these days due to my travel idiosyncracies), the pilots will often allow passengers to listen in to the cockpit ATC conversations through the headphones. It's really fascinating, and kind of oddly soothing. You can hear the ATCers hand planes off from one tower to another and be reassured at the extreme professionalism that these folks exhibit (at least every time I've listened in.) I always make a point of thanking the pilots if they turn that option on.
Flight is really fascinating. I was at a big telemetry conference last week (these are the true rocket scientists) and all aspects of how we put devices into the air (or space) and manage them (and the data they produce) are really fascinating - and impressive.
But, I do share a bit of Geof's trepidation. I know too much about the work of some of my colleagues at a top engineering graduate school to be completely sanguine. Then there's the joke about the aerospace graduate who got his degree and then after commencement stopped by his advisor's office and said, "Now will you tell me what *really* keeps those planes in the air?"
I'd trade hours of weightlessness, bumpy rides, spilled drinks, and sour smelling pillows if I could just sit next to someone normal. Forgive the links, but these are worth sharing for those who fly a lot - you've all sat next to someone similar:
Drunk Chick & Pooping Lady
Alaska Airsickness
Marilyn in My Row
Hi Anil. Great blog entry - And I'll have to admit that I am one of those nervous flyers. I fly about 5-10 times every year and usually end up white knuckling at the first sign of turbulence. I completely understand and get the science behind flight but the first little bump knocks all of that knowledge out of my head. The return trips are usually fine as I've just flown, which leads me to think that I would be an ok flyer if I flew frequently. But a shot or two of bourbon might help :)
Cheers
Well, I shoulda seen *that* coming. After writing this post, last night I had the worst flight in ages, with an hour and a half of constant turbulence. Cruel fate.
Good thing you weren't sitting next to me. Follow the link below to view my unraveling.
http://www.rudderless.org/2003/10/the_application.html
Fear's live on things you value, ie life, and are dependant on how much and what you trust. I've always simply trusted that nothing would happen, and i don't fear death, so crashing hold little fear for me.
I'm all for more info though, not because it helps calm my nerves which love the feeling of turbulence anyway, but because its fascinating to understand the systems of flight and airports, and because so much time on a plane is spent waiting... and i frequently get bored without something to do.
I've always loved flying (except the part about being in a cramped metal tube with lots of strangers and nothing to do). My confidence in ATC is enhanced by knowing a controller and having visited his workplace. (Man, they have some cool technology. There's actually a data screen that shows all the "tags" -- plane data -- for all the commercial traffic in the US, Canada, over the Atlantic, and parts of Europe, on one screen. Zoom in, look at one area, find a particular plane, and you can pull up its flight data!
Also, worst flight ever was the back end of an ATA from Orlando sitting next to a noisy drunk who spent the whole thing trying to cadge more teeny alcohol bottles from the attendants, and exchanging non-pleasantries about their bodies when they didn't.
I good way to break people into flying. Give them MDMA. They will feel every vibration in the plain. Every little turbulance the plane goes through.
Their toes will curl up in their shoes. If they do not die on that flight, all of their subsiquent flights will be a breeze.
My father was an aerospace engineer and he was quite the sanguine flyer. Alas, it is not genetic.
I put on my father's tombstone a formula for flight: F=CLSwq ( the L and the w are subscripts) --he didn't die in a turbulant plane crash.
Where:
L = Lift expressed in pounds, etc.
CL = Lift Coefficient (dimensionless)
Sw = Wing Area (square feet)
q = Dynamic Pressure (the lowercase "q" stands for "quick")
The most turbulant place I've found to fly: the Outback of Australia in the summer time. Those heat inversions can really get you and my wife has permanently scarred knuckles where I held on too tight).
Alcohol is a must for me when I fly. I find after three 7&7s, flying has suddenly become verrrry spiritual and hilarious.
I, too, always end up sitting next to interesting people, such as Boy Who Was Convinced I Was Someone Famous, Mormon Farmer from Idaho and just recently, Farting Man Who Kids Went to French Immersion School. (He only mentioned that, oh, sixty times).
Great post, Anil.
Considering the lack of control over events, and the wide array of causes (human, technical, mechanical) that can lead to a disaster, one might argue that fear of flying is rational.
Even so, I am not afraid. A key to not being afraid, I think, is knowledge and information, just as pointed out here.
To this end (no pun intended), I recommend Aviation Safety Network and AirDisaster.com
One conclusion I have drawn from the wealth of information available on these sites is that I will never ever fly aircrafts manufactured by LET 410 (Czech Republic). These are small planes, usually found in Africa and South America, although they seem to be spread around the world. The stats are horrific.
Always check what aircraft you will be flying in advance, and act and/or prepare accordingly.
Note: for sensitive persons, I strongly recommend not reading or listening to the CVR (Cockpit Voice Recorder) recording from JAL123: ASN CVR transcript Japan Air Lines Flight 123 - 12 AUG 1985 and AirDisaster.com Cockpit Voice Recorder Audio Files.
Clarification: LET is the manufacturer, 410 is the model.
This is why I like to bring my handheld GPS along on airplanes. Looking out at something is so much more fun when you have an inkling as to what it is. (that is, if it isn't Manhattan...that *is* pretty easy to spot.) I love taking off from LGA (right near home) and make sure I sit on the left so when we swoop over upper Manhattan I can look down at the city stretching out toward the harbor in the distance.
One of the best flights I ever took was from IAD-LHR...we flew right over Astoria just after sunset and I could find my house (okay, block) from about eight thousand feet up.
The best thing for me about this entry is the bit at the end, about how truly amazing flying still is, and how it becomes so routine we hardly notice. I fly a fair amount (nothing like 20 times a year, though) and I'm still always struck during takeoff at how incongruous it seems that just about all the passengers try to act like nothing major is happening, we're just taking off. Whereas inside I always feel like as the plane gets airborne, everyone should, like, applaud.
On the subject of great landings, I had a brilliant one flying into Seattle this past fall, where we were treated to perfect clear views of all three of Mts. Baker, Ranier, and St. Helen's before flying about perfectly north to south just east of downtown, and low enough to make out buildings and other familiar landmarks. Just about the best survey of the local landscape imaginable.
I'm getting ready to fly for the first time in 6 years. I'm bowels-to-water terrified of being in an airplane. This post, even w/ mentions of fiery death, is comforting because it acknowledges the fear and the inherent safety of flying. And reminding myself that there are folks who fly regularly is going to help get me on the plane Wednesday. Anyway. Thanks for the post.
LET 410 is not worse than comparable aircrafts, e.g. Fokker F-27, Dornier Do-228, Cessna 208 Caravan 1