Continuing Ed

Explaining It Away

My wife and I were at a dinner party recently when the conversation turned to airline flying. The host contended that airline pilots are mere chaperones who earn healthy, six-figure salaries for doing nothing more than monitoring the electronics that actually fly the airplanes from pushback to gate-mate.

This observation was properly met with healthy skepticism. The doubters turned to me for an informed opinion both because I was the only pilot in the group and because I have two brothers who fly for major airlines. I was happy to support their notion that pilots still count for something. The focus of the conversation soon widened to include flying small airplanes. Not surprisingly, someone posed a question that associated flying light aircraft with fear: I was asked about the scariest situation I've ever been in when flying.

I thought, and thought some more, and then replied that I couldn't recall ever having been truly frightened, because I'd never been in such dire straits. The closest I've come to an emergency is losing an alternator during a night ILS approach.

I didn't want my response to cast me as arrogant, but I did want to make an implicit point that flying light aircraft is not about having a white-knuckle grip on the yoke and deer-in-the-headlights eyes. Like most things in life, flying light airplanes is as safe as you want to make it.

Then my wife spoke up, and in all innocence promptly cut me off at the knees. She said that she could remember being frightened once when I was flying. "Wait," she added. "Make that two times - no, three, or maybe even four." The other guests chuckled. My jaw dropped.

My wife's comment floored me. The revelation that she had had the wits scared out of her when I was flying - not once but three or four times - was a large and chalky pill to swallow.

I take my flying seriously. I strive to adopt a professional mindset when I fly, and I'm always thinking safety, especially with family aboard. The fact that my wife dislikes flying in any size airplane makes me even more conservative. Despite her reluctance to fly, she tells me she has complete confidence in my skills, and that's what enables her to get in our airplane a few times each year to fly to a destination that would be a more expensive and less convenient trip on the airlines.

On the drive home from the dinner party I conjured up my best wounded-pride voice and asked my wife what had scared her so.

The incident that sticks out most in her mind occurred during a night flight to Atlanta. We were at 10,000 feet mean sea level in a light twin when the left-side auxiliary fuel tank began to run dry, which caused the left engine to surge. The sudden yawing of the airplane, combined with the sound of the engine alternately faltering then catching, caused my wife to bolt upright from a nap in the back seat.

I quickly switched to the main fuel tanks, and within seconds the left engine was back at full song. I aimed a flashlight beam at the aux tank and saw a telltale fuel stain streaming back from the filler neck. Fuel had been siphoning past a leaky cap, which had caused the tank to run dry about 30 minutes before it should have. Problem identified.

We had plenty of fuel in the main tanks to reach our destination without dipping into the one-hour reserves, so I continued on. I also resolved to order new caps for all four fuel tanks. Problem solved.

My wife didn't say much during the episode, but as I later discovered, she was truly and totally frightened, to the point that she thought for a few seconds that we were going to crash.

She didn't have to tell me about the other "frightening" episodes. I figured out what they were. Each involved negotiating with air traffic controllers to alter my flight plan because of weather. In each instance we were in busy terminal airspace filled with fast jets, and my requests to deviate were making their lives difficult. My wife was listening to my communications with air traffic control, and she perceived a heightened level of tension on both sides of the microphone. That fueled her anxiety.

Sometimes there is no way to avoid an action or maneuver that could conceivably frighten a passenger. A serious airplane problem or looming encounter with severe weather demands prompt attention. Either scenario is likely to open wide the eyes of even the most jaded passenger. So be it. Safety takes precedence over comfort.

Those situations may never come up, however, and they are not the only ones that may frighten passengers. It is the unnecessarily steep bank, climb, or descent; the ill-advised debate with air traffic control; or the misplaced determination to get home despite fatigue or uncomfortable weather that needlessly raises passenger angst.

I always thought that I was sensitive to my passengers' feelings about flying, but my wife's comment at that dinner party opened my eyes to a sobering reality. I learned that I should never overestimate the comfort level of passengers. Conversely, I should never underestimate the potential for passengers to succumb to unspecified, irrational fears. That realization will change the way I fly.

I already knew that information equals understanding. I just didn't realize how important it is to explain to my passengers exactly what's happening, especially if it involves a situation that could be construed as unusual.

I have been tempted to isolate my passengers' headsets from the communications radio when things get especially busy, but the sudden silence in their ears would only serve to heighten their concern. I'm also working hard on my "calm" voice, because tension begets tension.

Passengers, whether family, friends, or acquaintances, may have full confidence in their pilot, but that doesn't mean they won't be frightened by something that they don't understand. A situation that I regard as just another interesting piloting experience, such as negotiating weather or dealing with minor airplane problems, may be perceived by someone else in the airplane as a terrifying event. It's a very short step from lack of understanding to fear.