There is something that no one warns you about when you enter the world of aviation: You are entering a world that quite possibly, is unlike anything you have ever done before. You may feel like you are learning a foreign language in a foreign land.
Flying is also something a great many people dream of doing, but only a fraction of the population gets the chance.
As you learn your way around this new world, be prepared for people outside our culture bubble to have some really off-base beliefs about aviation.
The top misconception is that we’re all rich. No. Just no. Aviation, especially when we’re starting out and going to flight school and building our experience as flight instructors (using our paychecks to buy that coveted multiengine time)—well, let’s just say the church mice pity us.
Another misconception is that you can’t enter the world of aviation unless you have a parent who flies for an airline. Again, no. I heard this statement a few weeks ago during a celebratory dinner at a restaurant. The remark was made by a Ph.D. candidate in a non-aviation discipline. Root beer went up my nose and the phrase “Sit down, Poindexter,” very nearly came out of my mouth. I quickly corrected this false assumption.
A more serious misconception is that small airplanes are inherently dangerous. This is often because the person sharing the opinion is recalling a small airplane “crash” they saw on the television news. When a small plane crashes it makes the news because it is rare—and often it isn’t a crash, but an unscheduled off-airport landing with no injuries.
I tell my clients that flying is something special. I can’t call it a privileged since it takes a fair amount of work—in every sense of the word—to do it right. Flying is earned. Learning to fly takes discipline and patience. I wish I had a dollar for every time a learner told me learning to fly was more challenging than they thought it would be. I say this can be a good thing, because often when you have to work hard for something, it has more value for you.
Making a Memory
Sometimes we get a chance to share our skills with a non-pilot and it brings a smile to their face and creates a memory—even if you never leave the ground.
I had that opportunity this week when a former coworker asked me to do a Redbird session with her 76-year-old father. He recently lost his wife of 53 years and his three daughters have been looking for ways to help him stay engaged and active.
According to the daughter who set up the session, a few years back her father was one of the people I “carrier qualified” when we had a fundraiser at the flight school that involved landing a virtual Cessna 172 on the deck of a virtual aircraft carrier.
To the unfamiliar, it is basically a short field approach and short field landing because the C-172 lacks a tailhook. The trick to doing it is to listen to the instructor who gives you speeds and power settings to maintain and altitudes to fly, and tells you when to drop the flaps.
Mike, as he told me to call him, remembered the virtual carrier trap vividly. According to his daughter he talked about the experience often, which is why she asked if I would “fly the Redbird” with her father again. That day was a fond memory for him.
It took a little trial and error for Mike to get his feet situated on the rudder pedals—he’d worn the wrong shoes, he said. He wasn’t a pilot, but told me that many years ago he’d actually been in the right seat in a Cessna 172 on a flight between Seattle and Idaho for work and remembered the long glide on final approach into Boeing Field at the end of the flight. That made him a bit anxious, “like being on an elevator when there is no ground floor,” he said, so the Redbird was the right call.
I talked him through the takeoff and climb out from Pierce County-Thun Field (KPLU). Our destination was Olympia Regional Airport (KOLM) by way of the Tacoma Narrows Airport (KTIW) because the graphics in the Redbird clearly show the Narrows Bridge that connects Tacoma to the Key Peninsula where KTIW is. Turn left at KTIW and head south until KOLM appears under your nose.
When you do a fun experience flight like this, it’s important to keep it light as the emphasis is on building a positive memory rather than “teaching,” so I gave instructions on heading and altitude and how much English to put on the yoke and rudder to get the airplane to turn and let him wander a bit.
As Mike wrestled with the controls, I adjusted the weather to create a VFR Chamber of Commerce sunny day with no wind. That helped Mike out and he thanked me, noting that he gained a new perspective about all that must be learned to be a pilot, because, as he said, “There are so many things to be looking at—you really need the instructor to keep you out of trouble and to let you know when you need to be concentrating on a gauge or looking out at the horizon.”
When I asked Mike if he’d like to learn to fly in an actual airplane, he replied, “Not sure, but I’m not going to count it out either. At this point, I’m not sure I want it badly enough, but I did enjoy having this experience. It was fun. I enjoyed it. Thank you.”
You’re welcome Mike. You’re welcome.

![The Aviation Culture Bubble A pilot briefs their passenger on the upcoming flight [Credit: Meg Godlewski]](https://tbh.express/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/The-Aviation-Culture-Bubble.jpeg)