Distractions: Dispatch them

Some ohhs and ahhs as the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and then all of the lights of the Baltimore and Washington, D.C., metro area slid by beneath us on this beautiful summer night. It was the end of a glorious and memorable day at the beach in Ocean City, Maryland.

With summer drawing to an end and the start of school just over the horizon, my oldest daughter pleaded with me to take her and her friends to the beach for the day. It’s a four-hour drive each way to Ocean City or a quick one-hour flight in our Bonanza and then a 10-minute cab ride to the boardwalk. I didn’t take much convincing, and soon we were on our way. Once on the beach, I did my best to disappear into the crowd while keeping an eye on the teens from afar. The plan was to head home by about 6 p.m., but they were having a great time and the weather was good, so when they asked to stay longer, once again, I caved easily. The sun was just below the horizon by the time we piled back in for the trip home.

The kids seemed mesmerized by the takeoff, but soon after we leveled off the sugary drinks and cotton candy kicked in and they giggled and sang. I think I heard a couple of cheerleading chants as we plowed into the night. I flipped the intercom over to Isolate mode to block out the backseaters, but even then I could hear the cacophony.

We weren’t the only ones enjoying this evening. Plenty of others were out flying too as we converged on home base at Frederick, Maryland. The frequency was busy at what was then an nontowered airport. Finally, as we entered the pattern I had to announce that we needed silence in the back during landing. I didn’t need the distraction. As we rolled up to the hangar, I thanked them for their cooperation.

Fast forward a few months when I was again taking some kids up for a flight. As we neared the pattern for landing, I heard my daughter announce to the others, “My dad needs us to be quiet now so he can concentrate on landing.” I smiled. Sometimes we think they don’t listen.

Distractions can be insidious. Noise. Traffic alerts. Late descents while configuring to land. We humans are not so good at multitasking. Anything that distracts us from the primary focus of the moment can lead to disaster—or at the least, embarrassment.

Shortly after a fatal midair collision in the traffic pattern at Frederick, the tower controllers became super cautious about position reports in the terminal area—understandable, given they have no radar display. After initial check in, they will tell you to report in at typically five miles out and then often again at two miles out. Coming in from the southwest one time, I was told to report at five miles. And then the controller alerted me to traffic crossing at my altitude a couple of miles ahead. I struggled to see the traffic in the haze, but eventually I saw it safely off to the west. I reported in at two miles out, only to hear in response, “What happened to the five-mile call?”

I had screwed up. Distraction got me. Fortunately, the busy controller let me slide, and I went on to a safe landing.

For years I flew a 1984 Beechcraft Bonanza A36. That was the first year where Beech redesigned the panel to move the gear and flap switches into the same positions as most other aircraft. Earlier models had the gear switch unconventionally on the right and the flaps on the left. Later, I bought a 1972 model of my own with the switches in the “unconventional” position and was super paranoid about not making the mistake of accidently putting the gear up on the ground when I meant to raise the flaps. Twenty years later, I still have a tactical and verbal mantra I use before moving either lever. “This is the flap,” I say out loud as I feel for the switch that is shaped like a flap. I suppose I’m particularly aware because this poor Bonanza suffered such a fate at the hands of the techs at the former Beech Service Center in Van Nuys, California. Used to flying the newer models, the tech, after a maintenance flight, reached over to put the flaps up while in the landing roll (that alone is a serious mistake). He found a switch where he expected it and lifted it. And the gear did exactly what he asked—it folded up underneath the airplane, damaging the prop and belly, and requiring an engine replacement.

Distractions. Dispense with them and focus on one thing at a time for an uneventful flight.

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