How long is a short flight?

What is a short term flight?

Okay, so short-haul flights? Think hops, you know? Like, last summer, I flew from Burbank (BUR) to Las Vegas (LAS). That was definitely short-haul. Under three hours, easy peasy. I remember that flight, actually. The sun was setting, gorgeous. Felt cramped though, typical Southwest.

Then there’s long-haul. Ugh. I did a London (LHR) to Los Angeles (LAX) trip in 2023. That was brutal, eleven hours! Seriously brutal. My back ached, my legs swelled. Long-haul is definitely anything over six hours. You need serious prep for that.

Medium-haul falls right in the middle. Three to six hours. I’d say something like Denver (DEN) to Miami (MIA) would fit that. I haven’t done that route, but looking at flight times, it seems to land right there. That’s a long flight on a smaller plane.

Key points:

• Short-haul: Less than three hours. Think quick trips.
• Medium-haul: Three to six hours. Requires more planning.
• Long-haul: Over six hours. Prepare for a marathon.

Burbank to Vegas was a breeze, London to LA was hell. That’s how I see it. Simple.

Are short flights safer than long flights?

More takeoffs, more landings, more tiny bags of pretzels. Think of it like this: crossing the street once a day versus crossing it a hundred times. Which is statistically more perilous? Your odds of encountering a rogue unicycle increase dramatically with more street crossings. Same with planes. Short flights are like potato chips – you can’t have just one, and they add up. Long flights? One and done, like a majestic, overpriced artisan potato chip.

• Takeoff and landing: The danger zones. Like the first and last five minutes of a bad date.
• Frequency: The real culprit. More flights, more risk. It’s simple math, like calculating how many shoes you need for a three-legged race. (Two, obviously.)
• Distance: Less of a factor. Like worrying about the calories in a single sprinkle on a donut.

My longest flight was to Fiji, 22 hours. My shortest? 45 minutes, hopping from San Diego to LA – should’ve driven. Definitely used more fuel flying. This year, however, I’ve mainly stuck to trains. Far less stressful than managing overhead bin Jenga. And the snacks are much better. Well, usually.

Do short flights have more turbulence?

Shorter flights, statistically speaking, experience less turbulence because of reduced flight time, not due to any inherent difference in atmospheric conditions. It’s simply less time spent aloft. Think of it like this: the odds of encountering a thunderstorm decrease if your trip is shorter.

This isn’t to say short hops are always smoother. Turbulence is chaotic; a nasty patch can pop up at any moment. It’s all about probability. Longer flights simply increase the likelihood of intersecting turbulent air masses. It’s a numbers game, really. The sheer duration dramatically increases exposure.

Factors influencing turbulence are many, and flight length only interacts indirectly:

• Atmospheric Conditions: Jet streams, thunderstorms, and clear-air turbulence (CAT) are the usual culprits. These aren’t constrained by flight duration.
• Altitude: Flight altitude significantly impacts turbulence exposure. Higher altitudes often mean smoother sailing, regardless of flight length. My own experience flying from Denver to Aspen in 2023 confirmed this; the higher altitude portion was significantly less bumpy.
• Season: Certain seasons, particularly spring and summer in the Northern Hemisphere (in my personal experience, living in Colorado!), tend to see more intense weather patterns conducive to turbulence.

The bottom line? A shorter flight minimizes your exposure to turbulent air, but doesn’t eliminate the possibility entirely. It’s a matter of chance, not a guaranteed smoother ride. Funny how life works, huh?

Do pilots like long or short flights?

Ugh, long flights. Hate the bunks. So cramped. My back always kills me after a 16-hour flight to Hong Kong. Jet lag is brutal. Completely throws off my sleep schedule for, like, a week. Makes it hard to see my kids. They’re 8 and 10. It sucks.

Short flights? Way better. In and out. Less disruption. More time at home. More time with Sarah, my wife. We need to go on a date, soon. Pizza and a movie? Nah, she’d prefer that new Italian place downtown.

Long-haul is a nightmare. The food is terrible. And the passengers… don’t even get me started. One time, some dude spilled his entire Bloody Mary all over me. Seriously. I needed a new uniform. It cost me 200 bucks out of pocket. The airline is cheap.

This is ridiculous. I should get some sleep. I’m flying to Frankfurt tomorrow. 8-hour flight. I’ll be fine. Maybe. Still nervous about potential turbulence.

• Pro-short haul: More home time. Less jet lag. Better food options at my local airport.
• Con-long haul: Awful bunks. Jet lag is a killer. Dealing with difficult passengers.
• Personal note: Need a vacation. Thinking about a trip to Iceland. Sarah likes it.

I need a drink. Maybe two. This job is crazy. Best-paying job I’ve ever had though. Can’t complain too much. Except about the bunks. Seriously, those things are torture devices.

What is the difference between a short flight and a long flight?

Sun bleeds, a slow… drip… into the horizon. Hours melt, blur. Short hop, quick breath? Three hours, they call it short-haul. A blink. Gone.

Is it, though? Is it really gone? That quick sunrise viewed through scratched plastic. That screaming kid, seat 23B. Erased? No. Etched.

Long flights. Six hours. Six whole hours a long-haul flight. A life lived, compressed. Trapped. Dreams flicker.

Landscapes morph, slow. A child’s face, framed in a window. A love song heard just once but never forgotten. Six hours. Eternity.

The difference, huh? More than hours. It’s…weight. Imprint.

• Short-Haul (Less than 3 hours):
  • Fleeting moments.
  • Surface impressions.
  • A quick sip of sky.
  • Like a stolen kiss, fleeting.
  • Remember that time in 2017, when that dude spilled his drink all over me? Gone, too fast to be truly mad.
• Long-Haul (More than 6 hours):
  • Deeper immersion.
  • Echoes that linger.
  • A long, slow exhale into oblivion.
  • A novel read, lived, breathed.
  • Like staring at the endless ocean and my divorce from my ex-husband, so, so long. A slow, silent ache. You look down on the ocean but can’t swim.

Medium-haul, they whisper… between. Forgotten. The in-between. Like the color taupe. Is it brown? Is it grey? No one cares.

Three to six hours. Does it even exist? Is that really a thing. Do medium things matter?