Page 135 - Never Fly Solo

108 | NEVER FLY SOLO
If I could hear the comments coming from the other pilots,
I’m sure their words would sting. Aborting this flight will
alter the entire flight plan. Everyone will be affected: the
tanker and maintenance crews, the air traffic controllers, and
the pilots. My wingmen will need to sit on the ground for at
least another hour, get a replacement pilot briefed and into
my jet, and adjust the clearance. We were on our way home,
and now, because of me, the mission will be delayed, maybe
even scrapped until tomorrow.
An eternity seems to pass before the radio lights up again.
“OK, guys, shut ’em down and meet at Base Operations
in ten minutes.”
I walk back to Base Operations nauseated, embarrassed,
and ready to get railed at by my wingmen. I imagine what
they’ll say: “What the heck, Waldo? I can’t believe you just
aborted!” “What’s your problem? Couldn’t you just suck this
one up for the team?” I beat myself up.
Back in Base Operations, I explain to my wingmen that I
barely slept last night, had a pounding headache, and felt
exhausted. I couldn’t risk falling asleep while heading home.
“I’m sorry, guys, I just couldn’t do it.” Sure, all this is true. But
I don’t tell them (nor do I need to) that the reason I couldn’t
sleep was because of my anxiety and my secret fear of having
a claustrophobic panic attack over the Atlantic Ocean!
I wait for their verbal lashing, but to my utter surprise, it
never comes. They’re totally cool about it. While they are
disappointed about the delay, nobody doubts my judgment,
questions my credibility, or sees me as a “loser.” They don’t
beat me up the way I imagined they would.
Within minutes, another pilot who was set to fly home the
following day—sitting sideways in a cargo plane—gladly vol-
unteers to take my spot. He’s more than happy to change