Air turbulence--is flying worth it?

Air around Beijing is always bad—it’s “crazy bad” polluted, according to the U.S.—and the winds in spring get quite bad. As I tried to land there last week, our plane seemed like it couldn’t cut through the choppy winds; it kept leaping and falling huge distances. As a nervous flyer as it is and as the plane got closer and closer to the ground, I kept thinking of the recent plane crash in Pakistan—the pilot miscalculated the winds and crashed the plane, killing more than 150 people.
Chinese people seemed to be nonplussed about everything. You can hit a huge pocket of turbulence and they won’t wake from sleep or will laugh genially about almost getting in a massive taxi wreck. However, on this plane, the flight attendant came out looking as though she had been crying, and the Chinese man sitting next to us balled his fists.
Eventually, the pilot flew us of the Beijing area, a half-hour away from Beijing, into the Jinan airport. It was the kind of day where you couldn’t die in a plane crash, and after the sky started glinting so softly on the polluted Chinese ground as we made our landing, I thought maybe there existed some order in the universe. I cried a bit, but the Chinese only took out their cell phones.
I don’t know why I was so angry at China at that point, except for the fact that you can predict things like turbulence and cancel flights. The rest of the flights leaving the Jinan airport were cancelled for the rest of the day. I think in America we expect that our travel sources, our government, our restaurants have our best interests in mind because it matters to them what the people think of them. Here, it seems, the people are their use of all of these amenities is essentially irrelevant.
After landing, we had to make our way by train back to Beijing. It was so hectic that I don’t think I did—or still have—quite processed that we really believed that we were about to die. And how stupid would that have been, really? Is it better to die for the sake of “adventure,” an obtuse and indefinable term if one ever existed. If given the choice, I wouldn’t die for travel or to travel, but, especially in Asia, one must believe that he is invincible on some level.
Or, he must prefer the idea that he may die in the heat of adventure rather than his comfortable bed. Simply, one can die driving across her town, but if the possibility is heightened exponentially—as it is in wild travel; certainly, people travel to much wilder places than China—for what purpose are we willing to risk our lives.








