Knowing enough to survive the trip

Even in a world full of terrible events and happenings, there are few stories that chill the newsroom as much as when a commercial airliner crashes. For a brief moment, hush descends over my colleagues before the bustle of activity erupts again and they get to grips with covering the events.

The recent Air France flight 447 incident evoked just such a reaction. Stillness fell upon us, as I suspect it also did in offices, lounges and boardrooms across the globe. We have all flown and it's difficult not to think 'it could have been my last flight; it could have been me'.

Today's ocean-crossing planes are a strong example of a structured society, with first class seats at the front, business class in the middle and economy at the back. When something happens it does not matters where you are - all sections are affected.

The speculation of what happened to AF447 has been immediate and mostly incorrect. Everyone wants answers. Now.

But air accident investigation involves the exact opposite of this. It is slow, painstaking work. First comes the collection of debris as evidence, then the methodical elimination of all reasons - it is only, perhaps, many months, and in some cases years, later that the final report is made and the case is closed.

There have been notable recent exceptions to this. When Captain Chesley Sullenberger landed his plane on the Hudson River, we knew at once what had happened. Why? Because Sully was able to tell us.

Sully's flight caught our imagination - this is exactly the way it is in the movies. I wish it could always be this way but unfortunately it rarely is. And that worries us because for many of us, our jobs and businesses rely on us getting into those aluminium tubes and crossing the oceans of the world.

I used to work with one woman who refused to fly. She hadn't been on a plane for 30 years. Instead, when she wanted to go from New York to London she would take the ship. I often felt sorry that she was denying herself the beauty of travel.

I know telling you again and again that flying is the safest form of travel is meaningless. You know that in your head. It's your heart that won't let you fly. I used be one of those frightened fliers who gets clammy hands on take-off and landing. In a bid to overcome this, I learned about the noises on board, what's behind the bumps and how the plane flies. I made it my business to know something about the machine upon which I trusted my life.

Would this knowledge have made any difference if I had been on board any of those flights that went wrong? Of course not. But it does mean I get on board a plane and enjoy the ride, and not sit there worrying whether it is my last. Planes are the most magnificent of machines. They fly.

- Tune in to CNN International each weekday at 2200 UAE time to catch Richard's show, Quest Means Business.