Flying as a passenger is such a deadening experience. You sit there doing nothing, feeling like you're nowhere, and eventually feeling like you're not moving at all. Turbulence serves to remind me that I'm actually zipping through the air. I don't know much about aviation but know turbulence isn't dangerous, especially since I always have my seatbelt fastened anyway (beats sitting on it).

Often I've found mild turbulence soothing, a little welcome rocking movement. I recall at least one flight where it helped me sleep. Maybe it reminds me of being in the back of the car as a kid on a long road trip.

When it gets heavy, as long as it doesn't go on too long, it's a bit like a fun roller-coaster ride. It breaks up the monotony. Also, it tends to subdue the louder, more obnoxious passengers. I smirk at their white knuckles and pursed lips and enjoy the gap in their babbling. Thanks, turbulence, for silencing the stupid!

I was on a turbulent Southwest flight over Texas that had the woman next to me praying loudly in Spanish and clutching her baby while all around us just-filled drinks and coffee cups were sloshing everywhere.

I was just starting to wonder if I should be alarmed when the flight attendant's clear, light-hearted voice came over the intercom, saying, "There are three naked men walking down the street."

Everyone stopped and looked around.

"Which one of them is Ronald McDonald?"

As we gaped at each other she said, with perfect comic timing, "The one with the sesame-seed buns."

With that we figured the plane probably wasn't about to crash, after all.

Thank you. I'm one of those whose overactive imagination (and some really awful TV shows) have conspired to make me a sweaty-palmed, every-muscle-tensed, eyes-darting flier who, especially on landings in Denver, is sure she's going to die. Right there, in that crowded plane, with half a centimeter between my knees and the seat in front of me. Furthermore, thank you for explaining that the wings won't fall off -- I was sure they would, with all that flapping and all (can't the pilot SEE that?). I'm going to print and memorize your article and repeat it like a gregorian chant the next time I fly. Oh, and please tell all those other airlines that we fearful fliers LOVE United and their channel 9. It gives us a sense of confidence that y'all have it under control.

Fascinating article. So are the below articles just examples of hyperventilation?

Microbursts being "fatal":

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microburst

Clear Air Turbulence causing a DC-8 cargo plane to lose "an engine" and "6 meters of wing":

http://www.vets.ucar.edu/vg/CAT/index.shtml

I'm glad you mentioned Tom Bunn's fear of flying course, which is fantastic. I took his course before having to take several 12 hour flights across the Pacific, and it completely changed me. During turbulence, I no longer feels like I'm going to die. Instead I just grumble about my spilled drink and continue watching the in-flight movie.

Patrick: Wasn't there an air crash last week? Surely that deserves attention. Please, no more comforting "really, it's safe to fly!" articles, sponsored by the Global Airline Corporation Shareholder Protection Association...or whatever.

C'mon.

Plus, any commercial pilot knows (or should) that at 400+ kts, even in clear air with no weather, sufficiently violent control inputs will shear the wings off of a 747 or any other heavy as effectively as a giant buzz-saw. There's the hook for your novel: the sleeper terrorist-cum-airline pilot.

Thanks for the great explanations. As a person who is an unwilling, albeit frequent, flyer I used to be terrified of turbulance. Then a pilot used this analogy to describe turbulence; it's like driving a car on a bumpy road. The bumps aren't going to make the car crash, they just spill your drinks. So whenever I encounter turbulence on a flight I think of all the bumpy roads I've driven on and how my car was always perfectly in control. I imagine the surface of the road, remembering the rutted mountainous roads with bathtub-sized potholes I've traveled on and I'm distracted from my fears. I also remind myself that my chances of crashing are a million times smaller than if I was driving in a car. Nowadays I'm much more afraid that airport security isn't going to like the way I look, or the sound of my voice, or color of my hair, and lock me up in some secret foreign prison. Seriously, I think we are more likely, statistically, to end up wasting away in some dank prison, being tortured and tried without knowing our crime than to crash in a airplane.

It would be my educated guess that the preponderance of genuine turbulence injuries are sustained by flight attendants (by "genuine" I seek to exclude the opportunistic legal gyrations of passengers claiming whiplash-like injuries). Becoming used to the bouncing and jarring creates the indifferent attitude that leaves one unprepared - and standing - for the killer jolt; being thrown to the floor - or the ceiling - is not uncommon. I have deep respect for the captain who commands the flight attendants to cease service and be seated due to impending rough air.

In my 30 plus years of airline maintenance experience, I have seen many reports of "severe" turbulence, but never a report of "extreme." Even the "severe" reports, that require a visual inspection of the aircraft by maintenance and a much more detailed internal inspection if any sign of structural deformation is found, are usually misperceptions. Review of the flight recorder data, which can be done fairly quickly these days, usually reveal very mild vertical and lateral acceleration forces, well below the structural limits of the manufacturer and the textbook definition of "severe." I cannot recall ever finding damage in an intial visual inspection.

I do, however, recall an aircraft some years ago, a 727-200, that reported "severe" turbulence. We checked the exterior of the plane and, as usual, found nothing wrong, but as we entered the now empty cabin, we were in for a shock: it was in major disarray. Food everywhere, even stuck to the ceiling... but beyond the obvious need for clean-up, nothing seemed damaged until I noticed the "EXIT" sign, above the aisle by the aft cabin doors, was not there - just a hole in the ceiling where it should have been. I reached up into the hole and extracted the sign, which had a small chunk of a woman's scalp - complete with hair - attached.

Later, we were told there had been only one injury... a female flight attendant in the aft cabin had sustained a head injury.