Alpha or Beta
The Psychology of Flying Under a Bridge
Pilots are not normal people. NASA proved it with data. Every check airman already knew it from the right seat. Pilots are calm, aggressive, controlling, blunt, sensation-seeking, and allergic to incompetence. In most professions, that profile gets you sent to HR. In a cockpit, it gets you four stripes. Jaybird had the psychology without the license. The Senator had the psychology, the license, and 28,000 hours. What followed was a bourbon bet, a cognitive lockup, and one 197-hour Cessna pilot who backed up his bullshit at 350 knots.
Jaybird’s “git er done” personality emerged in the tale of the two-seat Cessna pilot who flew under the Golden Gate Bridge in a 368-passenger jumbo jet.
If you missed the original story: Jaybird Flies a Boeing 777-300 Under the Golden Gate Bridge. The follow-up: The Best Pilot in the Sky.
There is a psychological profile of the typical pilot. NASA studied 93 commercial pilots and the findings surprised no one who has shared a cockpit with one. Pilots score high on extroversion — they seek excitement and exhibit more aggressive behavior than the general population. They score very low on neuroticism — calm when everyone else is not. They score lower than average on agreeableness — hurting your feelings is not a concern when 368 lives are in their hands.
They see the world in binary. You are either functionally competent or you are functionally stupid. The checklist is complete or it is not. The approach is stable or it is not. There is no partial credit at 200 knots.
They are highly critical of others. They have a strong need for control and experience cognitive stress when they do not have it. They score high on sensation seeking. They typically have trouble with intimacy — emotional distance is an occupational feature, not a bug. Over time, maturity smooths out some of the sharper edges. But not for all.
It takes an alpha personality to be in command. Betas wash out. NASA confirmed what every check airman already knew.
The cognitive lockup tells you which one you are looking at. Sometimes it lasts a minute. Sometimes it lasts a career. When it lasts a career, the pilot is functionally stupid. They never pass the captain's check. The cockpit does not have a polite word for it. Neither does The Senator.
The irony is that Jaybird scores high on every trait NASA documented. Aggression. Sensation seeking. Need for control. Low agreeableness. Binary thinking. Highly critical of others. He has the psychology of a captain without a single hour in a Boeing.
The Senator has both. 28,000 hours. The uniform. The same profile. His job was to sit quietly in the right seat and wait for the 197-hour man to prove or disprove himself.
The captain had every reason to say no. He said yes. Personality sometimes outweighs credentials.
All humans wear masks that hide the child. A bully’s mask hides a coward. A judgmental person’s mask hides their own failures.
The Senator’s mask hides a farm boy from Kentucky who cleaned manure out of stalls. He became an expert on bullshit.
Jaybird’s mask hides nothing at all. He backs up his.
That is the difference between the man who studies the manual and follows the rules and the man who flies under the bridge.
Underneath it all — one bourbon bet, one captain who said yes when he should have said no, and one Cessna pilot who backed up his bullshit at 350 knots. Jaybird collected a case of Woodford Reserve Double Oaked and bragging rights.
Author’s Note: The flight took place in a full-motion Boeing 777 simulator, not in an actual aircraft. No FAA rules were violated. The people are real. The personalities are real. The bourbon bet was real. The action and dialogue in the simulator cockpit were real. Some dialogue and scene details outside the cockpit were lightly dramatized for storytelling. The bridge survived. So did Jaybird’s ego.


I hope people find the Jaybird reports as funny as I do. He is a hoot — an engineer with an MBA, very successful, and a licensed private pilot with 197 hours in a two-seat Cessna. The man can fly. What he cannot do is safely fly a 368-passenger jumbo jet after a four-hour crash course. He did it anyway and flew under a bridge.
I amused myself at his expense, gave myself the best nickname in the story, and took creative liberties only a lifelong friend can get away with. The privilege of the author is supreme. Jaybird has not sued me yet. I take that as approval.
It was a joy to read. And I was wondering how an errant 777 could go out for a spin under the bridge.