After my flight, once I’d got my thoughts in order I set off to get
the ferry home. Bob had a little time to
spare before his next student (someone working on their night rating I think),
so he walked with me to the ferry and along the waterfront.
We chatted; well I may have just spouted the random thoughts as
they came into my head. I had a lot to process. Bob, for his part, listened
patiently to the haphazard stream of consciousness emanating from my mouth.
Occasionally, he got a word in edgeways. He talked about how much
he enjoyed instructing, something which is very obvious to me. It’s kind of
hard to explain but most of the other instructors down there, no matter how
good they are, are mostly doing it as a means to an end. A job with the
airlines or such. Bob obviously doesn’t fit into this category. He really does
do it for fun.
He also decided to share a theory he has.
About me.
“Oh do enlighten me,” I joke, half dreading to hear it.
Basically his theory is that I think too much. Although he put it
in a much nicer way! He reckons that I am clever enough to realise the enormity
of what it is I’m trying to do and astute enough to have a good understanding
of all the things that can go wrong.
He may have a point, I specialise in finding problems in procedures
and processes at work. I’m the queen of picking holes in scenarios. I’m always
hyper aware of the consequences of certain actions. This is an asset at work, it’s
paralysing when learning to fly.
My chat with Bob also gave me a little bit of an insight into something
else as well, what he goes through on the ground. For a good three hours he was
stuck there, just hoping that everything was going to be ok. Quietly
stewing over the possibilities when I was overdue on the one leg I was most nervous
about. Agonising over the “what ifs”
I won’t lie, I found this flight the most daunting thing I have
ever contemplated doing. It was tough mentally. But I do wonder which one of us
had the harder time.
Me in the air or Bob on the ground?
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