This was my 2d flight since joining SOAR. I flew back and forth from NY to
My Trip Report:
Pre-flight freak-out (a/k/a ANTICIPATORY ANXIETY): I am happy to report that the sleeplessness, hyperventilation and general digestive turmoil began 2 days before flight. During my first flight, it began about 2 weeks prior. Yeah!
AT THE AIRPORT: I tried very hard to stay present, to take in the sights and sounds. On the flight out, I was a little disembodied. On the return, I actually enjoyed watching the take-offs and landings, and the delightful thought: am I really turning a corner?
TAKE-OFF & LANDING: I was never too afraid of either of these per se, just any turbulence during the procedures, and then, of course, I would assume the crash position. This time, however, I was able to sit upright and actually breathe. What helped me so much was visualizing the last video of SOAR (keeping connected with the ground). I watched that set so many times that the bumpiness on my climb and descent seemed almost (what?) … normal! It also helped me to remember Capt Tom’s explanations of moving air, higher and lower to the ground, and that technology today has taken the teeth out of wind shear.
TURBULENCE: My #1 Nemesis. The Monster. I hate turbulence so much that even the complete absence of it does not mean relaxation to me. No, in fact, before SOAR, totally clear air – where you can’t even feel the plane moving – that, to me, was a harbinger of disaster. Totally clear air meant that we were just about to hit a massive air pocket and drop 8,000 feet (which I think Capt Tom would say is impossible). The quieter the ride, the bigger was the boom about to happen.
On the flight out, there was no big turbulence, but a constant little bumpy feeling, like riding over ball bearings. I did the 5-4-3-2-1 exercises several times, and before I knew it, I was just looking out the window, only, with no additives. What I learned: Do the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise at the first sign of anxiety; don’t wait until panic sets in.
On the flight back, the air was totally clear, punctuated by a few bumpy patches and one 10-minute kahuna, where the plane actually rattled around. But I was ok. I wasn’t relaxed, exactly, and I did get a little “disembodied” (I kept trying to do the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise, but couldn’t focus). I closed my eyes and turned the music up, but I stayed seated upright and I didn’t wet my pants. After we had landed, I asked the pilots how that felt to them in the cockpit. The captain just shook his head, like, what? The First Officer said … ready? … that he actually ENJOYED it. What helped me: Visualizing that horizontal device in the cockpit and remembering the rudder is stabilizing and the wings will stay level; the plane will not just roll over. What also helped was remembering the turbulence those Hurricane Hunters hit getting to the eye and they didn’t roll.
MEETING THE CAPTAIN: Always my savior. In spite of my deep-seated distrust of humanity, meeting the captain is the antidote to the monster (see above). I’ve been on 2 round trips now and all pilots (captains and first officers) have instantly made me feel my trust is completely well-placed. I follow Capt Tom’s instructions to a T: board early, explain to the FA my situation and give him/her the letter, and suddenly, I’m whisked into the cockpit and find myself shaking hands with great men and women.
Thank you, Captain Tom.
Climbing out of Arizona:
A view of Iowa from 38,600 feet:
Turning into New York:
Beginning descent over Long Island (wings expanding):
Descending into JFK (wings expanded):
Touch down!
