Opinion
Nervous flyers tense with fear during bumps. I know, because I am one
Lee Tulloch
Travel columnistSometimes being a nervous flyer has its advantages.
When Singapore Airlines flight 321 suffered severe turbulence over Myanmar in May, sending 71 passengers to hospital in Bangkok afterwards, and photos were published of the carnage onboard, you could hear the sound of seatbelts suddenly clicking shut all over the skies.
Some level of turbulence is quite normal on any flight and airlines do a thorough job of constantly reminding passengers to keep their seatbelts fastened during a flight due to the possibility of unexpected drops.
But do they listen?
From my observation, mostly no, certainly not on long-haul flights, where a fastened seatbelt, even a loose one, seems to be too much of complication for some passengers.
Yes, it’s true seatbelts can be a nuisance in the narrow confines of an economy seat where you have to contort yourself into a pretzel shape to get some sleep, and the tangle of headphones, tray table, neck pillow, water cup and seat belt create obstacles every time you need to get up.
But what is a temporary nuisance against (the admittedly unlikely) chance of your neck being broken when your flight hits clear-air turbulence and you’re propelled upward like a bullet towards the overhead compartment?
Confident flyers believe this won’t happen to them. Ever.
Nervous flyers spend the whole flight worrying it will happen at any moment.
They’re the ones with their seatbelts firmly done up over their blanket when asleep. They’re the ones who limit their toilet breaks to moments when there is no one waiting so they spend less time standing in the aisle not securely strapped in.
Most flights are quite smooth and even when there’s turbulence, there’s no danger to the plane or passengers.
They’re the ones who tense with fear every time the seatbelt sign comes on.
I know because I am one.
While I’ve trained myself to be relatively calm during normal levels of turbulence, my anxiety still ramps up when that red light illuminates, or the pilot takes over the intercom to tell us to expect a “few bumps”. When flight attendants are instructed to halt food service, my heart really starts racing. That’s the signal that things might get gnarly out there.
I envy those who can take their seats and promptly fall asleep before the plane starts taxiing. I’m always on alert. Even with a sleeping pill, I wake up if it starts getting bumpy.
We nervous flyers have all kinds of coping mechanisms. Some down alcohol or tranquilisers, although for me, this only heightens the sense of being out of control.
One of my friends has a novel way of psyching herself out of her aerophobia. She imagines her two cats in pilots’ uniforms sitting in the flight deck. Visualising being on a plane flown by cute cats is her way of de-escalating her fears.
Others have rituals that provide some comfort, including selecting certain seats. I always feel calmer in the front of the plane, which is less bumpy but not necessarily safer. I like to sit on the aisle for a quick escape, even though there’s more likelihood of being hit by bags falling from overhead compartments.
None of this is particularly rational. Most flights are quite smooth and even when there’s turbulence, there’s no danger to the plane or passengers. I’ve been on some rough flights, but in all this time I’ve never seen anyone injured by catapulting hand luggage. It’s a reminder of how we waste so much time in life worrying about things that will never happen.
My first thought when I saw the images from flight 321 was to imagine the terror those passengers had experienced and be thankful I wasn’t on that flight.
My next thought was more reassuring – the plane plummeted 1800 metres in a few minutes, yet still remained in one piece. Modern aviation is awesome in every sense of the word.
The bad news is that turbulence is worsening as the climate changes. A higher concentration of carbon dioxide is warming the air and driving stronger wind shear, the horizontal or vertical changes in wind speed and direction over short distance. This in turn means planes must take longer routes to divert flights from dangerous air systems – ironically creating more of the carbon dioxide that causes the warming in the first place.
That’s why, in some ways, being a nervous flyer is a kind of superpower. Look around the cabin and you’ll see us, safe and sound, tightly buckled in even when the going is smooth.
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