Grounded!

On a Friday in October of 2002, a friend of mine whom knew that I had once worked for a particular U.S. Senator called. She said: “I don’t know what’s going on with Senator W, but I just heard something about an accident.” I thanked her for her call and I immediately went to CNN.com. What I saw there was something I will never forget. In big white letters on a dark red background were the words “SENATOR W DEAD.” I just stared at the screen in disbelief.

As it turns out, the Senator died in a plane crash, along with his wife, his daughter, my direct boss in his office, and two other campaign assistants. The Senator had been on his way to attend the funeral of a long-serving State Senator in a remote part of my home state. The plane went down in some woods, short of the runway. All aboard were lost.

The difficult weekend that followed was spent commiserating with former co-workers and getting all of the funeral information. I made plans to fly out on Monday afternoon.

On Monday, I checked in at the airport and got to my gate. Always a nervous flier, I was a bit apprehensive. However, I knew that if I skipped the funerals of my friends, due to my uneasiness about the flights, I would always regret my decision. I sucked it up and boarded the plane.

The first minutes of the flight were routine. We took off, and reached our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. Then, from the right side of the plane, came a horrible noise. Do you know the sound a car makes when it won’t ‘turnover?’ That is exactly the sound that began emanating from the right engine. Over and over the pilots attempted to restart the engine. RRR, RRR was the only response that was forthcoming. On top of this, not a word came from the cockpit. I was beginning to get very concerned. It also did occur to me that I was on a plane, flying to the funerals of people who had died in a plane while flying to a funeral. The irony did not escape me.

I should mention that there was a priest sitting directly in front of me. The tears (for me) did not start until the lady across the aisle from him, offered forth the young baby in her arms and asked the Father, “Do you think we could baptize him now?”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Silent tears started streaming down my face. The people to my left had never flown before and they were befuddled as to why I was upset. I didn’t want to tell them, of course, but it was hard just sitting there, crying softly to myself. I have never felt more terrified, or more alone.

Finally, after what seemed like 1000 minutes, but was probably more like 20, the pilots came on and announced that they thought the ‘oil was low’ in the right engine and we were going to make an emergency landing in Nashville. I will tell you that the only reason I didn’t completely freak out is that the pilots said ‘Nashville.” If they had said ‘East Greenville regional airport” or “that field over there” I would have dissolved into full on sobbing.

However, I was able to keep the public drama to a minimum and thankfully, on the one engine we had left, we landed safely in Nashville. Someone also apparently thought our dead engine was on fire, because as soon as we stopped, the fire trucks came out on mass to greet us. Thankfully, there was no fire, and we were loaded off in Nashville to rebook to our destination.( I later confirmed that our engine had indeed died, as I was seated on the next flight near one of the pilots from the first flight.) At any rate, I continued to my destination and attended the funerals of the Senator and my friends. I flew back home (very nervously) a few days later. I haven’t flown since.

Many people who hear I don’t fly say: “You know flying is safer than driving don’t you?” For me, that’s not the issue. I have a sense of my own mortality and I do accept that one day I am going to die. What’s most difficult for me to get past is the *time* that we passengers on that troubled flight had to contemplate the end of our lives. Were we going to crash or weren’t we? Should I call my family, my friends? Is this the end? That kind of drawn out contemplation was and is more than I ever want to experience again.

So, I am now ‘grounded.’ Of course this comes with its drawbacks, (trips are not usually quick ones and I certainly don’t have any travel to Asia planned in my future.) However, the grounded lifestyle is not without its advantages. Since I stopped flying, I have seen more of America that I ever dreamed. I had flown ‘over’ the St. Louis Arch countless times, but driving through St. Louis afforded me the opportunity to actually see it for the first time.

Hubby and I have also turned all trips into multi-stop itineraries which allow us to visit and spend precious time with family and friends. Going somewhere, for us, is no longer all about the destination, it’s also about the planned stops that we take along the way. A 2006 trip to Vermont for a wedding included a stop in Pennsylvania to see my husband’s grandfather and a stop in Washington DC to spend time with one of my dearest college friends. Hubby was even able to work in a stop in Ponte Vedra Beach, FL (home of the PGA Tour) to play a golf course he had long dreamed of experiencing.

There is also, of course, the famous family trip to Vail, Colorado where despite being mocked for driving thousands of miles, hubby and I were the only couple who arrived at our destination on-time, (missed flights, delayed flights and luggage woes did in the rest. heh heh.)

Therefore, in the words of Willie Nelson, “I just can’t wait to get on the road again.” I never worry about the luggage I bring or the amount of fluids I pack, (ha ha,) and I always see something new and interesting. I may not get a complimentary drink or a free bag of peanuts during my trip, but the extra time spent with hubby, family and the scenery of America seems like more than a fair trade to me.

-nylons73