Repressed childhood memories.
Peace,
mangeorge
…except for this recurring dream of me popping out of an eggshell of a fiery aircraft and running like hell to safety. Academically I know the end would come swiftly with no chance of survival. An plane ride is a crap shoot of many chances all at once yet still safer than driving. I stay home more than ever, hoping nothing falls through the roof.
My uncle was a navigator for a cargo airline and died in a plane crash in the 1960s. My father, who used to fly before that, never flew again. I remember he even took the bus from Texas to California and back for the funeral. All of his other siblings still flew after that, but not my father. That ended it for him.
My husband works for the FAA. He won’t fly unless it’s nearly impossible to get from here to there otherwise…because he knows exactly how many screwups go on in the FAA.
I think mostly people are afraid of crashing rather than flying, right? If you could guarantee a safe flight there’d be no fear.
I don’t understand the OP. What’s with the picture of a cookie in the shape of a plane?
My father is terrified of flying. For him I think it’s mainly the loss of control. He understands the statistics and all, but that doesn’t do anything to make him feel better.
Ironic that I’d become a professional pilot, eh? Maybe I was adopted…
Do you ever say to your passenger, ‘You know? I could kill us both right now.’ ?
My standard line for passengers after the serious safety briefing is, “If anything should happen up there, don’t hesitate. Wake me up immediately!”
But I just got my first jet job, so I’m going to have to dial it down a notch. 
I’m so going to steal that!
Today our in-flight movie is Fearless.
I don’t see any irony at all. He doesn’t like the loss of control, and so doesn’t fly. You, cut from the same cloth, take it even further: You don’t like the loss of control, so you take control.
I’ve thought of that, but I loved flying long before I ever became a pilot. Or even thought of becoming a pilot.
Mine comes from lack of control. It’s a theme in my life, apparently.
I do much better on corporate jets, where I can see in to the cockpit, or Cessna’s, then on commercial flights where I’m one of many and I don’t know what’s going on. I have done research on commercial flights and have a good understanding of what’s going on and when, which eases my fear of sounds and what’s going on in the flight.
The worst for me is turbulence. I enjoy landing especially (yay, we’re on the ground!) and I do like take off. It’s what’s in between that’s the worst for me.
I do it all the time, however. I fly for work at least once a month, and I travel for vacation a few times a year. It seems like the more often I do it, the easier it is. If I have a month or two with no flying, the next flight is a bit tougher.
Most people I’ve spoken to say their fear comes from contemplating the fact that there is nothing beneath them, that they’re suspended in mid-air, as it were.
This is a big one, but I think for me it’s the fear of the in between. From the realization that we’re going to crash to the impact, that’s what scares me. That time. I’d rather have a mid-air collision where I don’t see it coming then have a terrifying minute or two of impending doom.
I have no fear of flying, but I hate commercial flights. The worst part: “Deplane” …nails on the chalkboard. Deplane is what Herve Vilchez said at the start of every episode of “Fantasy Island”. Disembark is the word you are seeking…even the German stews on Lufthansa can manage it in their second language. Which is only one reason to appreciate them more than you ill-tempered hags.
I live close to an airport and every single time I see an airplane coming in for a landing I look at it and think “That’s not right, that shouldn’t be able to happen” There’s something surreal about an object that heavy moving horizontally gracefully through the air and not just falling back to the earth. And by the time I see them they can’t be more then 100 feet or so off the ground and they appear to be going about 4 miles per hour…it’s very strange. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. It’s still very cool every time. I’ve always said I’d miss not living near the airport…moreso now that I don’t live under a flight path.
Maybe it’s the same reason they don’t let me into zoos–and not withing a mile of them if I have an active glass of milk.
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