Flying the red-eye home from Kaua'i on Friday night, I was on high alert. Well, nearly every time I fly I try to get my adrenaline level pumped to the max, not so much ready for "fight" as I am for "flight".
I had a most horrific air travel experience 30 years ago and my body likes to remind me of it every time I walk through an airport, get a whiff of jet fuel fumes, or settle into my coach class sardine can-sized seat on any flight. Friday night was no exception and flying in the pitch dark over thousands of miles of open ocean really gets the old juices flowing. Throw in a little (nearly constant) light turbulence and we have the makings of a really dramatic plot line. Have you seen the movie "Flight"? Uh-huh.
So, right off I tried to project with my white knuckle, racing heart, outwardly calm but inwardly roiling countenance that all was well...or not. It was hard to tell. There were "a few bumps" climbing to cruising altitude at 35,000 feet, but it became apparent the bumps up there were about the same as the bumps down lower. Were these towering thunderclouds previously unknown to aviators anywhere? Was this a freak weather system of Biblical proportions? Obviously! Everyone else, however, seemed ignorant of the danger about to befall us -- flight attendants were serving beverages, "Oz, the Great and Powerful" was playing on the movie screen, and a fair number of passengers were settling in for an overnight sleep. Like sheep to the slaughter.
As for me, well, I was only too aware of the impending plummet from that towering height into the depths of the great Pacific sea, wondering how long it would take -- sort of a gliding loss of altitude or maybe a nosediving jackknife? Hard to tell. I was convinced it would be due to engine failure -- or maybe loss of a wing -- since the flight crew arrived far too late to do an adequate pre-flight safety check. The pilot basically got on the plane with the rest of us!
I wondered how long I could cling to my seat cushion and whether my life vest light really would deploy in the water or whether the battery would be dead (as is true of all my flashlights at home) and everyone but me would be rescued bobbing around out there in the dark.
I wondered if there were any little islands out there, previously unmapped, that might welcome a packed Boeing-737 in distress, but then figured probably not, or if so, then there would be the whole "Lost" "Survivor" thing to contend with after landing. The Others were most certainly waiting...
I wondered why other people were contentedly reading, messing with computers, chatting or sleeping -- seemingly unaware of the many disasters we'd all already endured. I mean, really, did I have to do all the work? Apparently.
I tried to imagine Denzel in the cockpit. Drunk or not, I'd trust him with my life. He was so cool and calm in that movie. But I thought I recalled a 55-ish, graying, slightly paunchy white guy crouching into the cockpit as we boarded. He looked more like he should be at Gleneagle lining up a 4-foot putt than saving us with any heroic inverted flying maneuvers.
As it turns out, the plane stayed in the air, my seat cushion and life vest were still stowed upon landing, and everyone woke up sort of dazed, but somewhat refreshed from their naps.
No one acknowledged me for doing the heavy lifting of imagining, and meditating away, all the death and destruction scenarios they were too distracted by their own selfish need for a calm flight to help with. Whatever. Air travel vigilance is my speciality. It's a thankless job, but someone has to do it.
At least, that's the view from here....©
Keep breathing
ReplyDelete