I’m OK with turbulence at cruising altitude, but I sure don’t like it on final approach. That’s the kind of thing that wipes out whole football teams.
Well, sure, the absolute end is quick, but the minutes leading up to that are probably horrific!
My fear of turbulence, which I’m well aware is total fantasy, is that the wings will break off. I just can’t get that fear out of my head. 
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Ah… I’m not an airline pilot, but GA airplanes tend to have voice-activated intercoms. Uttering a syllable such as ‘Ah’ activates the intercom so your first word doesn’t get clipped. In the helicopters I’ve flown the intercom is activated by a push-to-talk button, so ‘Ah’ isn’t necessary.
Check out this picture of a Boeing 787 Dreamliner undergoing a wing load test. That’s twenty-five feet of deflection! There are many things that can happen to a modern jetliner but the wings falling off due to turbulence isn’t one of them.
When I tremble with fear about flying and turbulance, I tell myself, “Ask the Pilot”
It’s funny because when I was taken glider lessons, the amount of turbulence I would hit at times was much worse than any commercial flight I’ve flown. In a glider, it was fun; in a jumbo jet, not-so-much.
In the glider, I’m driving the stick, wearing a four point harness, and have a fantastic view courtesy of a bubble canopy. In the commercial jet, someone else is driving, the seat belt seems flimsy, and the toilet-tube windows do not alleviate the claustrophobia (The 787’s windows are a step up).
But turbulence is just a nap-killer; flying for me is shear boredom and stress. Sleeping through a flight makes it tolerable.
But in the big scheme of things, turbulance is a waste of fear. As Patrick points out elsewhere, we’ve just past 10 years without a major commercial carrier loss. That’s 5,000,000,000+ passengers that have flown without a single death.
While this won’t help ease the OP, I can think of a couple of novels off the top of my head that captured the sheer, abject horror of a mid-air incident. Airframe by Michael Crichton and Replay by Ken Grimwood.
The biggest thing that tears the wings off airplanes is IMPACT. They aren’t gonna come off while flying. The whole design is such that there is some “give” in the wings. You look out the window at a wing, and it’s not perfectly straight. That doesn’t mean it’s in the process of falling off.
Matter of fact, if everything were completely rigid, the plane would probably crack apart like an egg.
(note: I’m talking about “normal” flying, NOT wind shear found in thunderheads!)
~VOW
Was going to say pretty much the same thing - with the additional remark that all (or most) of the victims had one thing in common:
They weren’t wearing their seat belt.
Seriously. Get up and go to the bathroom, or stand up to grab your book out of the overhead bin - but when you sit down again, put your seat belt on. The airplane itself is tough as nails; the passengers it carries are not. keep your seat belt on when you’re seated, and you shouldn’t have a problem - even when the turbulence gets so bad you wonder how the hell the plane is not in six pieces.
Yep.
These are the definitions:
– Moderate Turbulence — There may be moderate changes in aircraft attitude and/or altitude, but the aircraft remains under positive control at all times; usually small variations in air speed; changes in accelerometer readings of 0.5g to 1.0g at the aircraft’s center of gravity; difficulty in walking; occupants feel a strain against seat belts; and loose objects move about.
– Severe Turbulence — Abrupt changes in aircraft attitude and/or altitude; aircraft may be out of control for short periods; usually large variations in air speed; changes in accelerometer readings greater than 1.0g at the aircraft’s center of gravity; occupants are forced violently against seat belts; and loose objects are tossed about.
In my 6000+ hours at the controls, I’ve experienced what I would call “severe turbulence” exactly once and it lasted about 5 seconds. People tend to exaggerate the physical sensations they experience. Even pilots are guilty of it. I can’t count the times I’ve heard my offsiders describe light turbulence as moderate and moderate turbulence as severe.
Jimm, lightning is not harmless, you won’t get shocked but it can do significant damage to the aircraft. You probably wouldn’t land at the nearest airfield for a lightning strike but you’d ground the aeroplane once it had landed at the destination until it had been inspected by an engineer.
No regular turbulence you experience in a commercial airliner is ever going to cause structural damage to the plane, even if the turbulence feels really strong. Structural damage would only occur to an airliner if there were incredibly unusual forces acting on the plane, such as if it accelerates to speeds way faster than its safety limit (even that probably wouldn’t be producing turbulence). Unless the turbulence you’re experiencing is so wild that people are being thrown from one side of the cabin to the other and objects are pouring out of the overheard cabins, there’s no chance whatsoever that the plane’s about to suffer structural damage. Don’t worry about it. Turbulence is primarily dangerous because it can throw people into things if they’re not strapped in, or throw projectiles around the cabin.
Well I am so glad I didn’t know that at the time. I was terrified enough as it was.
(Incidentally I was privileged enough to see ball lightning during this landing. On the downside the rain was so heavy that when I got home I discovered that my apartment was flooded with raw sewage and I had lost everything I owned and had to move house - but at least I survived the landing!)
Well, that makes sense. Thanks! But wait–if the intercom cuts off the first word, why are we hearing the “Ah” in the first place?
My main problem with turbulence is not that I think it’s going to wreck the plane, though when I’m IN it, it sure feels that way. I just hate the feeling of bouncing around with nothing solid underneath me–hence my grasping the bottom of the seat when gripping the armrests still left me bouncing. I dislike rollercoasters, even though I know they’re safe. But with coasters, I’ve known there was something solid beneath me, even if that something solid was 30 feet off the ground. I suspect I’m too much of a wuss for flying, but it does seem to be the only practical way to get to many places. If I could medicate myself into unconsciousness and still get off the plane, I’d do it.
Holy shit! They can bend that far and still be okay!? That goes a lot toward easing my fear. Not that fear is always rational.
Airline pilot …
What they all said above.
We turn the seat belt sign on when the motion gets strong enough that we think an 80 year old might have balance problems walking. In that situation we’re typically bouncing up & down & around a few inches. And given that we’re doing about 750 horizontal feet per second, you’re hardly on a roller coaster. Most likely the actual path of the aircraft is flatter than a freeway in Kansas.
Occasionally we get into cruise turbulence which is too bumpy for the flight attendants to walk around. In that case, you’re still bouncing up & down a few inches, not the 500 feet somebody mentioned above. But we are having rhythmic motions of plus or minus 20-ish feet spread out over several seconds. Again, gaining or losing 20 feet over several seconds is a slope of 20 feet in a mile. In a car you wouldn’t even notice a slope that shallow.
In cruise turbulence like that I’ll still be sipping my coffee, but carefully so as to avoid getting any on my shirt. We’ll also be actively working to get out of it by changing course or altitude. In some cases there’s no choice but to ride it out for however many minutes it takes. Getting stuck in turbulence for extended durations is much more common over the oceans on long haul flights than it is over land. Oceanic ATC is much less flexible and we consider the risk of getting within 60 miles of another aircraft to be greater than the risk of sticking it out in the bumps.
So why does it *feel *so violent when it’s not really?
Humans are *very *sensitive to *reduced *G forces. Because that’s what falling feels like. And for an upright animal, falling is a great way to end up with an injury that would be life ending in primitive ape-man surroundings. A broken wrist or ankle is a death sentence to a primitive proto-human. So an even momentary sensation of falling sends the whole body into Red Alert.
Most people exposed to positive 0.75G (3/4ths of normal gravity) will insist they were in negative Gs, where stuff was falling up. Not even remotely. At positive 1/4G it *feels *like you’re being lifted out of your seat. Nope. You still weigh positive 30 or 50 lbs or whatever. But your muscles have been maintaining the position & posture of the other 90 or 150 lbs of you, and they pull your arms & torso up. Your body is totally designed around life in 1G and anything different *really *messes with it.
Next time you’re in what you think is scary turbulence, put down your tray table & set anything on it. A book, an empty soda can, etc. If it’s not lifting up off the table, you’re not experiencing negative Gs. Nor are you actually moving up & down very much distance.
On the other hand …
Once in a great while we’ll hit a serious bump in cruise. Most pilots will go a whole career of 30+ years without hitting even one. I’ve been at this for almost 25 years & I’ve not hit one yet. If we drop 5-10 ft over a short horizontal distance, say 200-500 ft, anything not attached to the floor will be struck when the ceiling comes down to where the floor was. That’s actual no-kidding negative Gs. This is how drink carts get overturned & flight attendants end up with broken bones.
It’s dirt simple people: If you are wearing your seat belt the only way turbulence can seriously hurt you is if we hit that once-in-a-lifetime bump, AND a drinks cart is sitting right next to you, AND it happens to land on your head. A really big unbelted person landing on you is also not good, but people are squishy & you’ll likely end up with a bruise rather than a broken bone.
All the above is about cruise turbulence. Gusty winds near the ground can be disconcerting, but are also trivial compared to the power & strength of the aircraft, your seat, and your seat belt.
As long as your pilot isn’t trying to fly through or land in a thunderstorm, hurricane or typhoon, etc., just chill; there’s no real cause for concern. Although it’s 100% normal for your body to be screaming Whoop Whoop Red Alert Red Alert at each minor bump. Now your brain knows better, so tell your body to STFU & go back to reading Cosmo or Maxim or whatever.
Voice-activated intercoms only clip the first bit. You can still hear the rest of the first word, especially if it’s drawn out. But the PA is not the intercom. I believe they have a PTT button, and are not voice-activated. So ‘Ah…’ could just be a habit with some pilots that sneaks in when they’re using PTT. Or else it’s a shibboleth. 
I wish you wouldn’t. Do you know how boring it is back in the cabin? I like a bit of chop.
My first trip to New Orleans we flew into a T-storm. After four hours of boring smooth air, we were being tossed around like a thing that gets tossed around a lot. I enjoyed it immensely. (OK, everyone else was screaming and puking; and diverting to Baton Rouge and sitting in a parked, stifling plane for hours wasn’t any fun. But I enjoyed the ride.)
Thanks so much. In this condition that you describe above, is the plane in any actual more danger of crashing when this happens?
I should have asked you instead instead of Patrick…
Is this a result of no radar coverage over the ocean? IIRC, ATC’s are train to spread the traffic by speed and distance if the radar goes out. I suppose we wish to avoid a reprise of 1956 Grand Canyon mid-air collision? But 60 miles? Wouldn’t the advent of TCAS and GPS allow closer spacing of traffic now even over the ocean?
To clarify my comment below about zero deaths…I should have said that we’ve not a major loss of life in ten years. People die on planes all the time for other causes (medical, severe turbulence, etc.).
I’d noticed this paradox before while flying–thanks for explaining it.
This always baffled me: why would there be severe CAT over the ocean? The usual explanations, orographic uplift (i. e., mountains) or fronts don’t seem to apply here, since the “clear” in CAT implies bright, blue skies. Or is this term misleading?
At cruise the plane is 30,000+ feet in the air. The plane isn’t in danger structurally, so unless someone gets hurt from the big bump the plane isn’t in danger.