Come Fly with Me

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. ~ Anais Nin

Back in February, for my birthday, Dan bought me a flying lesson with Palwaukee Flyers. (The flight was rescheduled due to weather three times, so I finally did it this Saturday) Most of the people who read this blog have heard (if not seen firsthand) that I am not very comfortable with flying. I have cried, sobbed, hyperventilated, passed out, and buried my head in Dan’s lap repeatedly asking “are we still okay?” on many a flight. Despite the number of planes I have been on in the last 2 years, I’ve not gotten better. Dan thought this would be a great way to help me get a handle on my fear.

Here’s where I would love to say he was completely right and that after my amazing flight, during which I handled all the controls, I no longer have any fear. Unfortunately, that would be a lie. Here’s what actually happened.

We woke up Saturday at 6am, since we had to be there at 8am and we still needed to pick up the borrowed car, put gas in it, and make the 30 minute drive to Wheeling. Of course we ended up running late, and I started to freak out a little (okay, a lot). We eventually made it, about 10 minutes late. I met my instructor Scott, who seemed all too nonchalant about the fact that we’d soon be 2000 feet above ground in a tiny four-seater plane. Scott explained that I would do 98% of the flying, including take-off, but that he would walk me through it all. He would have his hands on the controls the whole time and there would be nothing I could do that he couldn’t undo. I wasn’t sure I believed that last part.

After a quick tour of the office, and a chance to peek inside the really cool flight simulator, we drove over to the airfield to check out my plane.

Scott walked me through the safety check that gets performed before every flight and then, legs shaking uncontrollably, I climbed into my plane. We all (Dan was in the backseat) put on our communication headsets. I flipped the on-switch, pressed the fuel pump button, and started the engine. The propeller jumped to life, raising the plane’s nose off the ground just slightly and I could feel the power of the plane ready to be released. Scott explained how to control the plane on the ground using left and right foot pedals, and as he cleared us for take-off with the tower, I maneuvered the plane (or more like clumsily weaved the plane) down the runway.

Scott explained that there were some significant cross-winds so take-off might be a little rough, but it was nothing unusual. He told me that when I was ready I should depress the engine power (it has a fancier name, but I forgot) button and then when he told me to, pull back on the hand controls to lift off. I tried to control my violently shaking legs and get my breathing to slow. I pressed in the button and tried not to pass out as we began racing down the runway. “Pull back now”, Scott said. I pulled back and we lifted off. We were weightlessly floating for a second, reaching about 800 feet. But just as I started to think “I can really do this”, a violent gust of wind grabbed the plane and the square box that was my view of the sky turned about 45 degrees to the left. I let go of the controls and the nose of the plane dipped. Scott quickly reacted, brought it back up and we resumed our climb.

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this. Dan, I’m so sorry.” I was so afraid that Dan would be disappointed in me, but I wanted nothing more than for Scott to turn the plane around and land. They both assured me that it was okay. We continued to climb and my heartbeat started to return to a normal pace. “You actually did really well”, Dan said. I laughed and realized that, considering that it was the first time I’d been on a plane without being heavily drugged in about two years and I didn’t even cry, I had to agree. We cruised toward Lake Michigan and I took in the scenery briefly before concentrating on the controls ahead of me. “When you’re ready, “ Scott said, “you can take the controls back.” I shook my head. Not ready. “How about you just hold them while he controls the plane?” Dan suggested. “You can just feel what’s happening”. So I did, feeling along as we lightly bounced along Lake Michigan and then, all too soon, turned towards home.

As we headed in for a landing, I took the controls for a few minutes, holding the plane on course as we slowly descended. Once we were about 400 feet above ground, Scott resumed controls and brought us in for landing. As the wheels touched down, I felt a pang of regret. I wish I hadn’t freaked out during take-off. I wish I had taken the controls more than I did. As I taxied the plane back to its slot, I expressed my regret. “Well,” Dan said, “You can do all that next time; now you now what to expect.”

I don’t think I am completely cured of my fears. But I made it through a flight on a tiny plane without drugs, without tears, without hysterics. I am planning on taking another lesson, and this time, I’d like to take control for the whole flight.