Out Of The Pattern

OK, now that I have your attention I can tell you that attention, or lack thereof, is the topic of our lesson today, ladies and gentlemen.

Take me, for example. You could say that I've been distracted of late, and distracted pilots are not competent pilots. There is no debate there. In my case I've been preparing my family of four to move to a new home. For me this is probably the best time and the worst time to fly airplanes.

How could it be both the best and the worst at once? I'll explain.

Flying airplanes is my solace, my detox from the day's little atrocities (such as today, for in-stance, when the phone company switched off my telephones a week early). Simply put, I always feel better about my day if I've been flying. On the other hand, I've got a bit of a temper and a tendency to dwell on irritating events. I'm constantly counseled to "let it go." When I'm riled up to the point that my stomach is churning and I can hear the steady swishing sound of blood roiling past my temples, it is not a good time to jump in the Kitfox and go out for a spin.

No one should be flying an airplane when they are distracted to that degree. The statistics bear witness to nearly a century's worth of aircraft accidents chalked up to pilot distractions. Emotional distractions can be some of the most potent and, as aviation psychologists have proven repeatedly, we can all fall victim to our emotions. FAA advisory circular AC 60-22, "Aeronautical Decision Making" is an excellent worksheet for any pilot tempted to push personal limits in this realm. The message is clear: When I am angry or distraught, I have no business in an airplane.

Or do I? That depends on how competent I am at a trick U.S. Navy aviators refer to as compartmentalization. It is a fancy term for boxing up all of those volatile emotions and literally putting a lid on them. I like to imagine it as far more than putting all my land-based, non-aviation concerns on the back burner while I fly. Anything on the back burner is still present, could still conceivably burn to the forefront of my consciousness. Heck, if nothing else, those stewing juices still permeate the kitchen with an aroma and that in itself can be distracting. Compartmentalization is pulling those issues right off the stove, sealing them in Tupperware and sliding them safely into the refrigerator, where they won't keep stewing and no further aromas can distract me from my purpose-a safe, uneventful flight.

To do this requires a little mental gymnastics, especially when the pager is going off and the cell phone is ringing and all is not right with the world. My technique begins by turning off, literally. On the way to the airport I flip off the cell phone and the pager and even the car radio. Then I focus my mind on the flight planning I did and the weather briefing I received earlier. I allow my mind no width or breadth of thought beyond items immediately pertaining to the flight ahead. By the time I've parked and carried my belongings to the airplane, I am focused and ready for the task at hand.

That focusing technique is why flying is such an effective release for me. Once I've flipped the switch from harried new homeowner to pilot or flight instructor, I'm free. I don't have to think about anything except the airplane, the flight conditions, and my student's needs. When I roll down the street in my car a couple of hours later, I pull that stew out of my brain's refrigerator and contemplate it. Once I've had a break, all those worries don't seem so unmanageable. No matter how confusing life was before I went flying, problems always seem a little more solvable after a few hours in the air.

Being able to separate my land-based worries from my pilot or flight instructor tasks allows me to fly even when my world is topsy-turvy. I'm not invincible, however, and when my "compartmentalizing" skills are rusty or overwhelmed by the scope of my problems, I cancel the flight. I am, after all, human, and that has its limiting moments.

Psychologists have shown that this skill can be taught, polished, even perfected. Military pilots under combat pressure practice it everyday. So try it yourself the next time you break out from work for a quick flight. Take a few moments beforehand and transition from the one realm into the other. Close the door on your work-day worries and breathe deeply of the blue sky enveloping the clouds on the airport threshold. Stare at the cockpit instruments individually, and mentally walk through their functions before going to the engine start checklist. Focus on the flight plan and all of its details. It'll be like wrapping yourself in your favorite soft jacket on a cool morning. Once you feel good, totally immersed, then fire up and watch how well you fly.