I read a statistic that left me in a serious state of disturbed contemplation. Enough rumination to spur the writing about something and nothing -- factual entertainment. It stated that the British Airline Pilots Association conducted a survey revealing that 40 percent of pilots say they have fallen asleep while at the controls. I am not scared of death. I am scared of fire, airborne metal jetting towards my skull as a blurred substance representing pure speed, knowing my future dreams have been replaced by 10 seconds of pain crushed under a flotsam dinner cart.
I guess this is why they have a co-pilot, but then again, the co-pilot is a member of the same association as the actual aviator. This would mean that the co-pilot took the same survey, and is potentially a proud member of the 40 percent who have fallen asleep piloting a multi-million pound plane. Unless, of course, co-pilots are the underclass of all pilots -- the sad serfdom of pilots is in the helper seat -- and don't get to take the same examinations as other pilots. I highly doubt aviation is still using the feudal system. Regardless, the next time I enter a plane, I will ask God to forbid the two "pilots" to fall asleep at the same time, however unlikely this may seem.
It took no time for me to figure out that I feared pain, not death. Each term, at its completion, I drive from Hanover, N.H. to Denver, Col., and then back again. I do this without a co-pilot, no serf to put the straw of my Mountain Dew on my lips as my eyes begin to droop and the lines of the road become Pac-Man dots for my car to straddle and eat. The 2,000 mile trip along Interstate 90 is a long, painful obstacle course. I can stay awake for over 1,000 miles thanks to my fear of pain, fear of watching as the jaws of life cut me out of my accordion of a car only to be rushed off to the nearest hospital where I will fear getting an IV or an injection.
It eludes me how a pilot, master of lives, master of a machine that catapults through the air at 600 mph offering certain pain with a minor mistake, could even consider sleep as a good idea. Does this statistic mean 40 percent of all pilots are stupid? Maybe 40 percent of all pilots are masochistic and would derive erotic pleasure from crashing their jet. I wonder if they are sitting in their seats, as if in bed, and saying to themselves, "a nap couldn't hurt while I flew an airplane over seas."
I think that the above statistic should worry me about humankind. We do not fear pain enough. I am not writing about mental pain coming from hard work, since we fear thinking too much and are always looking for the easy cerebral ways out, but rather physical pain coming from extenuating circumstance. With a little more trepidation, fewer accidents would happen.
I will never bungie jump or throw myself out of a plane with a nylon sheet attached to my back and a few parachute cords holding it to my body. I don't trust the equipment that much, but there are people who do, the same type people perhaps that will be piloting my plane to Spain this spring for an LSA, the same people who are on the road with me when I drive home.
We are not still living in an era that requires physical frontiersmen, sound barrier breakers, men and women who knew no fear of crushed bones, but instead we are living in a world of mind advancement. This has become what humans fear the most -- the advancement of the mind -- whereas we accept pain for a little nap. The frontier has become internalized.
