Aerophobia

I am writing about my fear of dying from an aviation accident.

This fear comes from the death of my friend.

I do not see the sky as a spiritual place.

I see it as an environment with an atmospheric pressure too low to sustain life.

At thirty thousand feet, the partial pressure of oxygen is insufficent to maintain consciousness.

Survival depends entirely on a sealed pressure vessel and functioning life-support systems.

I see the airplane as a pressurized body made of aluminum and composite materials.

It remains in the air through the generation of lift across the wings.

If the angle of attack becomes too steep, airflow separates, lift is lost, and control unravels.

The aircraft will descend.

If the stall is unrecoverable, it will descend rapidly.

I think about the failure points of the airframe.

Metal fatique in the fuselage skin from repeated pressurization cycles.

Stree fractures in the wing spars invisible to the naked eye.

Turbofan engines: turbine blades near melting point, compressor stall, total flameout.

I consider multiple redundant systems failing simultaneously.

My friend was seated in 14C.

Their aircraft hit the ground at nearly seven hundred miles per hour.

Kinetic energy converted into heat and mechanical deformation.

The human body does not remain intact under these G-forces.

Internal organs collide with the skeletal structure at terminal velocity.

There were no intact remains.

The post-crash fire, fueled by jet fuel, consumed the wreckage.

These are physical facts.

This is the source of my fear.

When I am in an airport, my hear rate accelerates.

I feel it in my carotid artery, my throat.

I cannot consciously slow it.

I look at the aircraft at the gate.

I assess its exterior condition.

I look at the seams, the thousands of rivets holding the skin together.

I think about maintenance logs, about whether the inspectors were thorough.

I listen to the aircraft systems during taxi.

The whine of hydraulic pumps.

The mechanical clunk of landing gear doors.

The change in engine pitch as rotors accelerate.

I am listening for irregularities that indicate malfunction.

Turbulence is not a metephor.

It is the literal movement of the aircraft through pockets of air with varying density and velocity.

Each jolt confirms that the aircraft is a physcial object subject to external aerodynamic forces.

My central concern:

I have delegated my survival to people I have never met.

I do not know the pilot's name.

I do not know their level of sleep deprivation.

I do not know the history of the engine components.

I am secured by a nylon belt that cannot protect me from high-velocity impact.

I am aware of the duration of high-altitude fall.

Several minutes of awareness before impact.

I am stating this clearly.

I am afraid of a fatal aviation accident.

I am afraid of sudden deceleration.

I am afraid of what happens to my body at that speed.

I do not stop thinking about it until the cabin door is opened at my destination.