FRIGHTENED YET THANKFUL

Bad flight still beats trip to ICU
By Kelvin Wade
November 25, 2010

It happened last weekend. I'd just enjoyed a Spamless eight-day Mexican Riviera Carnival cruise. I made it through an impossibly long Southwest line at San Diego International Airport. I made it through security without the horror (for them) of being digitally strip-searched and no one tried to touch my junk.

But as I awaited my flight, I read an ominous text from my girlfriend Cathi's daughter.

'It's ugly out there. It should be a fun ride home. Like an amusement park ride. Yippee!'

Yes, it was raining in San Diego but nothing to get upset about.

The flight started uneventfully, a rapid ascension into the heavens. Soon we were high above the clouds looking at an amazing warm sunset from miles above the earth. I thumbed through Sky Mall while Cathi slept. I finished my second tiny bag of peanuts and downed a plastic cupful of Coca-Cola Zero.

Then someone unleashed hell.

The sky went black. I noticed white flurries zipping past my window. Behind me I became aware of a little boy conversing with his dad about the white flurries. His father told him it was snow.

Soon one could see nothing out the window but clouds. We were traveling, hurtling hundreds of miles per hour in a fog. The plane shuddered and dipped and my stomach was suddenly in my throat. Our flight path didn't seem exactly linear. It was as if the wings were pawing through the winds and clouds.

Outside there were flashes of light.

'Dad, I think there's a fire out there!'

There was a thump and Cathi briefly awoke and gave me a concerned look and then drifted off back to sleep.

Like the 'Twilight Zone' episode, I was reluctant to look out the window for fear of seeing a man on the wing of the plane.

We'd begun our descent toward Sacramento but now the engines whined and we were clearly climbing again. The plane shuddered and bumped and then we were weightless.

While the plane bounced like a car going over train tracks, that boy behind me was talking nonstop. 'Feels like we're in trouble.' 'Dad, do you think this plane will go upside down?' 'I don't think the pilot can find the airport.' 'Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We're going down! We're going down!'

I wanted to turn around and tell the father, 'Dude, can you shut your kid up? He's interrupting my prayers up here!'

There was a break in the clouds and I could see we were still very high up. We dropped and the plane shook. The boy kept up his chatter behind my head, 'It's bad. This isn't going to be good. Mayday!'

Was this kid the Devil's spawn? Was it really a little boy or my inner child tormenting me in my last moments? We pitched and rolled and descended. The airport lights were rushing up. The wheels touched down and the braking was like nothing I'd experienced. Because Cathi and I were sitting in the front row, we placed our feet against the wall.

After what seemed like an impossibly long time we came to a stop. Without saying a word, the passengers began applauding.

That flight made me very thankful for this Thanksgiving. In retrospect it made me smile thinking that fear of flying used to have nothing to do with terrorism, nude X-rays or body fondling. And look, I spent last Thanksgiving in the ICU so every day is a blessing. Peace.