Are you certified?

Even though I travel quite a bit, I hate to fly, and although I know commercial airliners are much more reliable than smaller aircraft, I always feel inexplicably safer on a six-seater than a 747.

I have had several experiences on smaller planes that should lead me to feel the opposite. The first time I flew in a six-seater, as a child traveling with my family from Utah to Idaho on an early-summer night, we ran into a violent storm. There were flashes of lightning all around us, and below we could see bolts striking trees in the forest, with several of them on fire.

I used to take the puddle jumper between Anguilla and St. Martin. Though lasting only five minutes, the flights could be remarkably turbulent. Once, after landing in St. Martin, I watched from the terminal window as the next group of passengers boarded the plane we had just gotten off. It taxied down the runway, skidded off the tarmac and ended up in a field, one wing and the tail damaged, but luckily, no one hurt.

That mishap marked the end of that run; the company that operated it had no planes left, having crashed all the others.

My most intriguing small-plane experience took place in Africa. Our pilot was a weathered Englishman, who looked right at home in his khaki shorts and shirt. As we boarded, I noticed cargo boxes lining the jungle runway and an overturned jeep rusting off to the side. I was assigned the co-pilot’s seat, and as we flew low over the jungle, I spotted the wreckage of a small plane, just like ours, in the forest below.

Our pilot told us no one was sure what had gone wrong as there had been no survivors. He went on to say that there were a lot of plane crashes in Africa, but not to worry, as we were in very capable hands. His record, he assured us, was spotless.

A while later, he turned to a stack of mail he had brought along. I glanced over as he opened a rather official looking letter from the African equivalent of the F.A.A. I caught the opening line: “Dear Mr. Smythe, We regret to inform you that your application for a pilot’s license has been denied.”

Mr. Smythe quickly looked up from his letter, and I even more quickly looked away. Then he folded it back up, returned it to its envelope, and kept on flying.

Laurie Weltz is director of the film “Wrestling With Alligators” and proprietor of the Cerulean Villa hotel on Anguilla.

I have had several experiences on smaller planes that should lead me to feel the opposite. The first time I flew in a six-seater, as a child traveling with my family from Utah to Idaho on an early-summer night, we ran into a violent storm. There were flashes of lightning all around us, and below we could see bolts striking trees in the forest, with several of them on fire.

I used to take the puddle jumper between Anguilla and St. Martin. Though lasting only five minutes, the flights could be remarkably turbulent. Once, after landing in St. Martin, I watched from the terminal window as the next group of passengers boarded the plane we had just gotten off. It taxied down the runway, skidded off the tarmac and ended up in a field, one wing and the tail damaged, but luckily, no one hurt.

That mishap marked the end of that run; the company that operated it had no planes left, having crashed all the others.

My most intriguing small-plane experience took place in Africa. Our pilot was a weathered Englishman, who looked right at home in his khaki shorts and shirt. As we boarded, I noticed cargo boxes lining the jungle runway and an overturned jeep rusting off to the side. I was assigned the co-pilot’s seat, and as we flew low over the jungle, I spotted the wreckage of a small plane, just like ours, in the forest below.

Our pilot told us no one was sure what had gone wrong as there had been no survivors. He went on to say that there were a lot of plane crashes in Africa, but not to worry, as we were in very capable hands. His record, he assured us, was spotless.

A while later, he turned to a stack of mail he had brought along. I glanced over as he opened a rather official looking letter from the African equivalent of the F.A.A. I caught the opening line: “Dear Mr. Smythe, We regret to inform you that your application for a pilot’s license has been denied.”

Mr. Smythe quickly looked up from his letter, and I even more quickly looked away. Then he folded it back up, returned it to its envelope, and kept on flying.

Laurie Weltz is director of the film “Wrestling With Alligators” and proprietor of the Cerulean Villa hotel on Anguilla.

Christopher Elliott is the author of Scammed: How to Save Your Money and Find Better Service in a World of Schemes, Swindles, and Shady Deals. Critics have called it “eye-opening” and “inspiring” — it’ll “grab your attention and won’t let go.” Order your copy now on Amazon, Barnes & Noble or iTunes.

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