OP-ED: Airplane challenges through the years
Air traffic controllers have been having a rough time, and that doesn’t exactly make any of us feel calmer about flying. So, I thought I’d revisit a few of the memorable flight experiences we have survived over the past.
Once, on a commuter plane from Philadelphia to Providence, R.I., I heard a crackling noise and then watched a small ball of fire fly down the aisle, hit the cockpit door, and vanish. The pilot came on the intercom and said cheerfully, “I heard you folks saw a little ‘St. Elmo’s Fire.’ Don’t worry — it’s just static. Happens all the time in dry air!” Yikes.
Another time, on a commuter flight to Newark, N.J., in a blizzard, the pilot announced, “I have bad news and worse news. The bad news is Newark Airport just shut down because of ice, and we’re only 15 minutes away. The worse news is we only have 20 minutes of fuel left.”
Five minutes later, he returned with, “Good news — they’ve reopened one runway so we can land.” Thank goodness for Captain Morgan.
Landing in Africa on an Airbus, I watched two VW vans with flashing lights race toward our plane on the runway. When I asked my friend why, he said, “If they don’t escort the plane to the terminal, pirates will empty the luggage compartments before we get there.”
On a flight from Serbia to Austria, I picked up the in-flight magazine, written in both Serbian and English. It began, “We are trying to sell this airline to a private company. The planes are all in bad shape, and we hope we can sell before anything tragic happens.”
Not exactly the comfort literature you’re hoping for at 35,000 feet.
Our last flight from Florida was on a massive Boeing 777 carrying over 300 passengers. About 30 minutes into the trip, we heard a muffled boom. The pilot came on and said, “We just lost our right engine. We’re going to attempt an emergency landing in Atlanta.”
We landed safely, but my wife left bruises on my hand that lasted a week.
Then there was the nor’easter. I was flying from Montreal to Philadelphia in one of those storms that make you rethink every life choice. The man seated next to me was wearing what looked like a $5,000 suit. We exchanged small talk, and I asked what he did.
“I sell airplane insurance,” he said.
Perfect. So I asked if our plane was safe. He smiled and said, “This one? It’s as sturdy as a dump truck.” Whew.
Back in the ’80s, when I worked for the Mercy Nuns, my boss, the CEO, flew from Scranton to Philadelphia with a group of sisters. About 10 minutes before landing, the pilot came on the intercom and said, “Prepare for the worst.”
She told me, “We all started praying and put our heads down by our knees.” A few minutes later, the landing was perfect. The pilot never did explain what that announcement was about.
The fastest flight I ever had was from Des Moines, Iowa, to Chicago. A tornado was heading straight for the airport. We hastily took off and in record time made the trip to Chicago. Nothing like a little breeze to get you there.
And finally, there’s our friend Bob, who was flying to Los Angeles when his plane was struck by lightning. He looked out the window and saw purple flames dancing along the wing. Then he felt someone leaning over his shoulder. When he turned to look, it was “the pilot.”
He said, “I hate when that happens.”
So, the next time you’re on a plane and the seatbelt light comes on, remember, we’re still here.
Nick Jacobs is a resident of Windber.