Fear of flying Saturday January 7th 2012

Yesterday we flew home from Iguassu to Guarulhos – a journey that should have taken one hour and 15 minutes. Instead it took over two hours and was one of the worst flights that I can ever remember taking. Steve was next to me, and when he goes quiet I know that there is something wrong. His I-pod just wasn’t doing it for him, and he sat very very quietly for a very long time.
But more of that later. Since we embarked on this lifestyle, we have flown all manner of planes and airlines. Some were memorable for the wrong reasons, but mainly you just blot out the bad and remember the good. Until that is a flight like yesterday happens and all the dodgy flights that you have ever taken come back to haunt you.
In the Philippines, the national airline was Philippine Airlines or P.A.L., which was commonly known as “Plane Always Late”. It was true as well. I don’t think that we ever flew with them on time. I once made the mistake of trying to get an early morning flight to Hong Kong and watched as the Cathay Pacific flight took off, even though it was scheduled to leave after the P.A. L. one. So much for maximizing our shopping time.
Coming into the old airport in Hong Kong was quite an experience and one I’m glad that I saw out of the windows and not the cockpit. The old airport was literally in the middle of a jungle of skyscrapers. As you came into land, the joke was that you could see what people were having for dinner and watching on TV. The apartments really were that close.
There is a similar set up coming into the local airport here in Sao Paulo. Huge apartment and office blocks seem to be alarmingly close to the flight path, and there are reports that one block in particular had been deemed to be so high that it has been ordered to be demolished. But something must have changed, because 2 new blocks are going up directly behind the offending one that are even higher.
My very first flight with P.A. L. was memorable because at the end of it, all the passengers clapped and cheered as we landed. There had been nothing particularly special to warrant such rapturous applause, but I learned very soon thereafter that clapping a good landing was a very common occurrence.
I have only ever been very seriously concerned for my safety when all of us, plus a family member flew in a tiny 9-seater prop plane over to one of the islands. It was the sort of plane where everything was weighed – I guess so that they could work out how much fuel to load. I remember standing on the scales, Emma in my arms, baby bag, hand bag and hand luggage and topped 200 pounds. It was horrible seeing the scales tip over the 200 mark and even as middle age spread sets in, I am thankfully nowhere near that mark.
But we took off and I distinctly remember thinking that if this plane went down, Stephen’s mother would lose 5 of her family members – morbid I know. There were 2 pilots and the only thing that kept me going was the fact that one of them read his newspaper for the entire length of the flight, putting it aside only for take off and landing.
About 2 months later I learned that one of the flights to that particular island very nearly didn’t make it back to Manila and came into land with one of the props not working. A friend at the time was on that flight.
But back to yesterday. We took off in clear blue skies and 90 + degrees of sunshine. There was a bit of turbulence but we were in a big plane so not too bad. After our designated time, it was obvious that we were circling over Sao Paolo. Every so often there would be a break in the clouds and we could see the South Atlantic Ocean beneath us and then the tell tale signs of skyscrapers. I swear that the pilot couldn’t decide whether
A. he was even going to land or
B. which runway he was going to use or
C. which airport he was planning on landing at.
To say that we changed direction half a dozen times was an underestimation I’m sure. We weaved left and right, banked one way then the other. The nose was pointing up at one point and for one very alarming minute thrust down in a serious dive. We heard the wheels go down and saw the flaps moving backwards and forwards and broke through the clouds to see the ground coming up very fast below us. Surely only a matter of time and we would hit the ground but no, the electrics flickered, lights went off and then on again and we climbed very rapidly and banked hard.
We were kept informed over the tannoy, but of course it was all in Portuguese and those messages are hard to hear at the best of times so in Portuguese there was no chance. Did he say 4 to 5 minutes or 45 minutes? No idea. Around we came again. We weren’t even sure if we were at the original airport, the cloud was thick and it wasn’t until the very last minute that saw that we had in fact landed at Guarulhos. The pilot slammed on the brakes flaps flying everywhere and we finally came to a stop.
Applause broke out all around us. Even Steve joined in.