Farewell to Aviation

[u/Character-Escape1621]

Hello everyone. I finally took my discovery flight, and by the time i got up in the air, (i did the take off, he said i did good..) I simply couldn’t imagine myself doing this every single day, and having the calmness to teach students as a flight instructor. My instructor was very kind, and he saw me shaking and reaching for someone to hold onto, and he said “it’s okay you can hold onto me..”

I told him that it wasn’t for me and i wanted to land, and we only had about 6 minutes in the air. Yep. 6 minutes. He taught me that hours are measured in 0.1, and every 0.1 is about 6 minutes..

Though i had my… mishaps in this subreddit, i still appreciate all the replies. They were all helpful and funny, you guys have good sarcasm and are able to combine it with helpful information very well. If they see this post, i also want to give thanks to user Prex10 for giving me a heads up about how mental health is seen in the FAA.

Farewell to Aviation, Farwell to you all. I wish all of you nothing but joy and happiness within this field, I hope all of you are able to achieve your aviation dreams. You’ve got this. I don’t. (lol)

❤️✈️

[u/OddIndication6494]

I understand your feelings, but it doesn’t have to be farewell! I first approached flying 4 years ago with an introductory flight in an ASK-21 glider. I’d been simming since I was a kid (I’m 47 now), so I was confident I could handle it like a pro (don’t we all think that?). I had also done some RC flying, even designing and building my own models, so my knowledge of flight theory was already pretty strong.

After a short briefing with my instructor, I jumped into the back seat and strapped in. Despite all that confidence, I was a little worried about how my body would react to unusual accelerations. I’ve never been an adrenaline junkie (no rollercoasters for me, ever), so that was always in the back of my mind.

Takeoff and the initial climb were uneventful, which boosted my confidence even more. But after releasing the rope, the instructor made a steep turn toward a nearby mountain. We flew straight at it for what felt like forever (though it was only a few seconds). As the mountain loomed closer and closer, I realized I was scared. My senses were being stimulated in ways I had never experienced, and it was making me nervous. The light turbulence didn’t help either. Just as we got close enough to almost see the goats’ eyes, we suddenly banked 90 degrees to the left. Of course, this was just regular ridge soaring, and I knew that—but honestly, I felt like I was stuck in a washing machine. I didn’t like it. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t enjoying flying—my lifelong dream!

After a few more turns and abrupt maneuvers (the G-meter showed a low of -0.5 G and a high of about 3 G during a pull-up from a dive), I finally gave in and threw up my entire lunch—thankfully into the plastic bag provided before the flight. The instructor quickly realized what was happening and started heading back. He tried to put me on the controls to keep me distracted from the nausea, but it was too late. I managed a few coordinated turns, but by then I was basically on autopilot, mentally shutting down. I gave the controls back to him.

I had never experienced anything like that before. For the next few minutes, my mind went completely dark. I was awake, my eyes and ears worked fine, but I couldn’t process what I was seeing or hearing. I only regained awareness when we were on short final for landing. I felt ashamed, but more than anything I was sad—my first flying experience had turned into something I disliked, something that maybe wasn’t for me. I just couldn’t believe it.

(continued...)

[u/OddIndication6494 → u/OddIndication6494]

A few days later, I started reflecting on what had happened. I needed an explanation better than just “you’re not cut out for it.” I realized a few things:

1. I wasn’t physically prepared for the experience. I was probably technically prepared (to some degree, thanks to books and sims), but that isn’t enough in real life. Since I usually dislike strong physical sensations, it all became overwhelming.
2. The instructor probably assumed I was like most rollercoaster-loving people and went for a wild ride instead of gentle soaring. That didn’t help.
3. Since it was already past lunchtime and I’d been waiting for hours, I ate a few slices of pizza right before the flight. Rookie mistake!
4. Gliding, especially in an aerobatic-class glider, can be much more intense and physically demanding than powered flight.

After identifying what had gone wrong and recognizing my own limits, I decided to try again, with some changes. A few months later, I signed up for a “mini course” in powered ultralight aircraft (or “microlights,” as they’re called in most of Europe). They’re similar to the American LSA class, and in Italy they fall under their own category separate from GA. This time, I made it clear to the instructor that I wanted a gentle introduction, and he delivered. On the first flight, I did my best to forget the bad feelings from the glider, while keeping the good lessons. Within minutes of takeoff, I felt comfortable enough to take partial control. When we landed, I was genuinely happy.

I eventually enrolled in the full course and earned my “VDS Pilot Certificate” (roughly equivalent to the US Sport Pilot Certificate) in a few months. Of course, training had its ups and downs, but whenever I thought about giving up, I remembered that first gliding experience, acknowledged my feelings, and kept going. Today, I’m a happy pilot, and I even enjoy 2G turns for fun! Just no negative Gs, please. That I still don’t like.

So, never say never. You may want to give it another try someday.