I have never been involved in an airplane crash although I have come mighty close more than a few times. Several times with other people driving the airplane, a few when I was pilot in command.
There was that time I was flying near Austin, Texas under instrument conditions (IFR) when the weather turned real bad. Tornadoes were being reported near to me and the sky was filled with these massive, angry looking black thunderstorms. And the airplane I was piloting did not even have radar. I remember eventually telling air traffic control over the radio that I had zigged and zagged all I could, and that I had now run out of options. I tried to sound very professional and casually asked him if he had any suggestions. Even though I thought I had completely masked it, probably everyone listening on the radio could hear the fear in my voice.
Fortunately an airliner was flying just a few miles away from me and he came on the radio, suggesting to air traffic control that I make a specific change in altitude. Air traffic control approved it immediately, and the story ended up happily-ever-after.
Another time I ran into some nasty turbulence in West Texas flying over the highest mountain in Texas, Guadalupe Peak. My wife and one of her male colleagues were riding in the airplane with me. This was the very first time this guy had ever flown in a small aircraft. He was completely cool throughout the entire flight until we landed safely at El Paso, just after the sun had gone down. When he got out of the airplane he kneeled down to the pavement, kissed it, and then started to shake. He began this really weird sounding loud and uncontrollable sobbing, with an occasional wail thrown in just to spice it up a bit.
He is a really funny guy, and at first I thought he was just being funny. I was thinking to myself, “Whoa Man, that was nothing! You should have been with me the time that…” But he wasn’t being funny. His reaction was completely legitimate. I don’t know if he has flown in a small airplane since then.
A few days ago the French aviation authorities declared absolutely that the Airbus airliner had not broken up in mid-flight over the Atlantic Ocean. Even though they have not found either of the black boxes, and so far they have been denied access to the autopsies performed in South America. I certainly do not have the training or experience to question authorities like this. So for the moment at least, let’s assume that they are right.
If the Airbus had broken up at 35,000 feet the passengers would have suffered incredible trauma. Broken bones all over their bodies and almost instantaneous death.
But if the plastic Airbus airplane did not come apart mid-flight, what this means is that the passengers had to endure several minutes of it uncontrollably plunging towards the Atlantic Ocean at around 750 miles per hour. They did so with an absolute certainty that death awaited them when they hit the water.
When the doctors tell you that you have an incurable form of cancer, it certainly makes you stop and think. Most people begin eating a lot of vegetables, cut way down on their drinking and general bodily abuse. Some people even start doing strange things like reading the Bible or voting Republican. You can look at the survival statistics, and at least you are able to keep up a small amount of hope. I know this from personal experience.
But those poor people who were strapped into that plastic Airbus as it rushed 6-1/2 miles downward towards to the sea had several minutes of absolute terror facing them. I can’t begin to imagine how awful that must have been.
This is an article I just read by Jeremy Clarkson which inspired me to write down my experiences: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/jeremy_clarkson/article6634096.ece
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