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.
“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?