That was actually the season finale. Platinum renewed for one more year.

I can already here sense a change coming in the way I fly, and the coming seasons will be different. As more things compete for my time there will be less of jam-packed travel calender leading to a more active points hunting. Also some less exciting trips/destinations and it might mean the story telling might shift a bit. I'm still going to try to make it interesting, but I've certainly reached the point where not every trip is going to make the story.


Before changing season, here is a tidbit. I simply forgot when and where it took place, so I can't fit it into the right season.


Fear of flying
For someone used to fly once every decade, this travel pattern of mine for the last 5 years has had some psychological effects. When you suddenly take more flights in a month than your entire previous life, you start to count the odds of accidents. And they add up.

Humans are inherently bad at judging risks. We might fear flying while we happily engage in daily in activities with much higher risks, like car traffic. While we understand on some level that there is a risk, we generally think "that won't ever happen to me". At some random point we pass a threshold in our risk assessment where that attitude flips over to "that will inevitably happen to me, the question is just when".

And during these first 5 seasons, that threshold was passed for me. I started to count on having an accident at some point.
To handle that feeling, I got a slightly obsessive interest in safety routines, flight operations and accident investigations. I consumed anything from nomenclature and facts of the flight phases to reading transcripts of cockpit voice recorders from actual disasters. Most of it was useful knowledge, some of it was stuff I wish I never knew.

With the increased knowledge I started to listen and look for signs. Was that bang an engine surge? Should the FA triple-bong the flight deck to tell the bad news?
Also, going through different scenarios in my mind, imagine in detail what I would do in case of this and that. Like I said, slightly obsessive but somewhat healthy too. And then, just as sudden, another threshold was passed. Suddenly I realised that while I was flying a lot, I am nowhere near a regular flight crew and the absolute majority of them are still alive...

In fact, in all my flights I've never experienced any incidents. Now going on 600+ flights and 35 laps around the globe. Not a single incident, not even a go-around.

Eh, correction, I guess I forgot about that time.

I think it was on a BUD-CPH or PRG-CPH. Last flight before getting home. I'm tired from another long trip and I fall asleep.
Suddenly there is a big jolt and I wake up abruptly. I'm a bit dazed and can't exactly tell what has happened. First I think it is some really heavy turbulence? But there is no shaking and I can feel the plane is in a sharp nose down. The first clear thought I can remember having is:

Why isn't the captain pulling up? If this was turbulence he would pull up and climb back up. What is happening? It must be an emergency descent. Decompression?

I'm starting to look around. The plane seems fine. No noise, no odd airflow. And no oxygen masks. And then I notice. No one is screaming. What the fakk is going on?

I look at my seat mate and he looks at me like I'm the crazy one.
I look out the window trying to establish facts. I see the horizon. The plane is level with it?!? I am absolutely sure we are in a 30° dive, but how can we then be horizontal at the same time?

This simply doesn't compute. As I'm struggling to make sense of all the sensory inputs a wave of nausea comes over me. I'm starting to realise this is a balance issue. A pinched nerve or something is sending faulty signals to the brain. I just want to puke my guts out.

- Are you OK?, says the seat mate.
- Yeah, I lie, I just nodded off and woke up surprised.

I manage to fight the acute motion sickness and without vomiting I can count one more incident free flight. But that was a close call.