When "I Do" Becomes "I Won't"
by David H. Freedman | Illustration by Hal Mayforth
Not everyone in my family shares my passion for flying in small airplanes.
 Here’s how I got my brother, who didn’t know I had secretly picked up my pilot’s license, to fly with me. I asked him to accompany me to a nearby airport and talked him into sitting in a Skyhawk “just to check it out.” While he admired all the cool gauges, I ran through my preflight routine and started the engine.
“They let you do that?” he said, amazed. Suddenly, he grasped what was happening and frantically began clawing at the door latch. I had to subdue him. But when we took off a few minutes later, he broke into a wide grin and didn’t stop smiling for hours.
I didn’t try that tactic on my wife, but sometimes I almost wish I had. From the moment she reluctantly agreed to my learning to fly, she has sworn never to set foot in “one of those things.” So far she’s stayed true to her word, leaving me a member of one of aviation’s less-hallowed fellowships: the my-significant-other-won’t-fly-with-me club.
I know plenty of pilots who relish escaping not only from contact with the ground, but from contact with their spouse, or girlfriend, or boyfriend. That’s fine for them, but for me and countless thousands of other pilots, it’s a misfortune.
Flying as a couple can mean romantic getaways, a more relaxed and enjoyable cockpit experience,
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Flying as a couple can mean romantic getaways, a more relaxed and enjoyable cockpit experience. |
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and working flying into the routine of a shared life. Being blackballed by your partner, aviationwise, often limits the frequency and length of excursions—and puts a serious crunch on the availability of pleasant airborne companionship. It may also mean living under an almost palpable cloud of tension, generated by your having embraced a time- and money-consuming pastime that your significant other wants nothing to do with and may even actively resent.
Can a reluctant partner be won over to the right seat? Hey, it’s worth a try. There are several ways to go about it—one may the ticket to ride you’ve been searching for.
The Logical Approach
If you’re lucky, your partner’s hesitation stems from misconceptions about the safety of light-plane flying. Many people imagine that small planes are airborne Tilt-A-Whirls that routinely tumble out of the sky.
If that’s the case with your significant other, the cure might be simple. Invite your partner on a calm day to the coffee shop at a local general-aviation airport. Sit together and watch the uneventful arrivals and departures of a hundred or so flights. Point out that this almost boringly predictable scenario goes on all day long, every day, at more than 5,000 airports across the country.
That alone should help put in perspective the monthly light-plane crash that makes the evening news.  If your partner likes to see things in black and white, go to the Web and dig up statistics on the phenomenal safety record of popular small planes—numbers that back up the proposition that flying in a light plane is, on average, about as safe as driving a car.
One site that’s particularly enlightening is GA Serving America, which emphasizes safety and describes sound ways to use small general-aviation airplanes as a dependable means of transportation.
If your significant other plays the JFK Jr. card, counter either with an instrument rating (and point out that he didn’t have one) or make a sincere pledge that you will never fly over the ocean on a night that’s even partly cloudy.
The Behavior-Modification Tack
Unfortunately, fear of small planes is usually a more visceral phenomenon that defies logic. It may be rooted in a complex phobia involving fears of heights, motion, noise, enclosed spaces, complex machines, and many other factors. But that doesn’t mean you should give up trying to win your partner’s confidence and trust.
Psychologists often help people overcome even extreme phobias through a routine that involves confronting fear in a number of small, nonthreatening steps.
For flying, the routine might proceed as follows. First, have your partner “fly” with you on a flight simulator.  The next week, take him or her to the airport to watch you do a preflight check, while you say soothing things. No matter how well things progress, do nothing more—just take your partner home. The following week, have him or her sit in the plane. Say more soothing things, then go home. Next time, start the engine, then go home; the time after that, taxi and do a run-up and go home. By the next visit, your partner may be ready for a tour around the pattern. Just remember to take it slow, advancing by gradual increments for as long as it takes until your partner becomes comfortable beside you in the cockpit.
The “I Really Can Do This” Angle
Sometimes it’s hard for a family member—who sees you lose your house keys or drive down the driveway with a mug of steaming coffee perched on the roof of the car—to think of you as “A Pilot.” Pilots are people who command pure air to lift a huge hunk of metal filled with live humans into the sky and then deposit it safely—and gently—somewhere else. Pilots don’t leave a mess in the kitchen or forget to put the toilet seat down.
If you suspect that your significant other finds it nigh impossible to associate you with the awesome professional skills he or she imagines flying requires, then consider letting an instructor handle the conditioning routine described above. Some people fear flying because they feel they lack control of the situation. This can be addressed by having an instructor turn each session into a lesson. A Pinch-Hitters or other flight-training course might also do the trick.
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Pilots don’t leave a mess in the kitchen or forget to put the toilet seat down. |
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Another option is to have your significant other ride in the back during your own flight training. Having an instructor on board will be reassuring, and seeing you fly the plane with a “real” pilot along for the ride should assuage worries about your competence.
The Incentive Method
Consider giving your significant other extra motivation for climbing into that right seat. Some call this bribery; I say, Hey, if it works, it’s worth it. Dig up a destination that is especially appealing to your partner, one that can be reached far more easily via a plane hop than by car or commercial airline. Choose an island beach, a shopping mecca, a classy golf course—whatever is likely to get the biggest rise. Be prepared to be a big spender on the trip.
Meanwhile, have you bothered to set an example by going out of your way to join your partner in his or her favorite pastime? Stamp collecting or wall stenciling may not be your idea of a good time, but flying isn’t your partner’s idea of good time either, or you wouldn’t be in this fix in the first place.
The Last Resort
If all else fails—as it has for me, so far—then your fallback position is to avoid letting flying become the enemy. Your partner won’t look kindly on your aviating if it means you’re off with a friend every weekend. Whenever possible, fly during the week so you’re less likely to carve a chunk out of quality time you and your significant other can spend together.
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Need help getting your spouse to fly, chat with other pilots on our stuck mic forums. |
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Turn some of your excursions into scouting trips for destinations your partner would enjoy that the two of you can drive to later on. Plan getaways with an aviation-friendly friend whose partner shares your partner’s feelings about flying—you and your friend can fly to the spot, while your partners drive up to meet you.
Personally, I’m not giving up hope. But I also realize that persevering toward my goal demands the utmost in patience and acceptance—anything less on my part would be unfair to my wife and even counterproductive. I forced my brother to fly with me, but I’ve invited my wife, and it’s her call whether to accept or not. If she does, I’ll bet she’ll be smiling at that first takeoff. 
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My Marriage Is
A No-Fly Zone
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When my husband suggests we fly off for a weekend trip to Martha’s Vineyard, he thinks he’s proposing a fun excursion for the two of us. What he doesn’t realize is that the mere thought of such a trip makes me sick to my stomach. It’s not just the physical discomfort of being in a small airplane. It’s also the fear that if something were to happen to us, then our children would be orphans.
I have never been afraid of flying in big commercial jets. It was a part of life I pretty much took for granted, starting with my first vacation with my family as a baby, and continuing through my numerous trips back and forth to college. In a jet, it’s easy to forget that you are up in the air—if you sit in an aisle seat and try not to look out the window, it can seem like any other bus or train trip.
But small planes are different, and they really scare me. The smallest plane I’ve ever been in was a 16-seater in North Carolina, and it made me very nervous. A small plane is much narrower, so you can always see out of the windows. Also, because you can see the ground during most of the flight, you are much more aware of the feeling of flying. This is probably what appeals most to pilots of small planes, like my husband, but it’s not for me.
I realize there is nothing logical about my fear of orphaning our children. In our frequent discussions about flying together, my husband quotes convincing statistics on how much safer it is to fly in a small plane than to take a ride in the car together--which of course is something that we do on a regular basis.
In a car, you have more control over the important factors such as speed, seat belts, routes, etc. But to me, flying conditions seem to be less within the pilot’s control—weather, landscape, air traffic—the pilot has no control over those factors. I suppose this part isn’t really logical either, but that’s how I feel.
The other point is that I couldn’t function in my day to day life without driving. Flying with my husband is an optional activity, and so far I’ve just opted not to do it.
Recently my husband has slightly altered his approach. Instead of trying to convince me to fly with him, he has been trying to get me to consider the idea of taking a lesson on my own. I suppose he’s hoping that if I try it out and become more comfortable with small aircraft in general, then he might be able to pave the way for one of these weekend jaunts that he likes to envision.
My response to him, “What for?” I don’t really feel a need to confront or vanquish my fear of small plane flying. I’m really not a thrill-seeking kind of person, either. I don’t like amusement park rides, or even the chair lift at the ski resort. So why do I need to overcome this fear I have of small airplanes?
I know my husband would really like it if I shared his love of flying, but all in all it hasn’t been so bad. He enjoys flying with friends. And I’ve noticed that when he’s off exploring some new and distant land, he’ll often say how much he wishes I could be there, too. So, if my continued refusal to fly with him has made him miss me a little more—well, maybe that’s not such a terrible thing. –Laurie Tobey-Freedman
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