There are two phrases
that always strike fear in my heart: “packed flat for easy assembly” and “it’s
a simple outpatient procedure.” I’m adding a third: “diverting to LAX for
emergency landing.”
Let me tell you, those
are words that really ruin your day. But
as my younger son later observed, “There are worse things than making an
emergency landing. Like not making an
emergency landing.”
We’d had a lovely five day
reunion with Olof’s college roommates in a remote scenic location doing, among
other things, blind taste tests of expensive Scotch. Or maybe that was taste
tests until you went blind. Hard to remember. Our plane to San Diego was due to
leave at 6 p.m. but the retired Olof had unwisely agreed to a last-minute consulting
job in St. Louis for which he would need to be at the airport in San Diego the
next morning at 5:30 a.m. All the earlier flights to San Diego were overbooked but
we finally got standby status on a mid-afternoon flight. Having a few extra
hours to repack seemed worth the standby fees and giving up our upgraded seats.
As luck (or in this case
bad luck) would have it, Olof and I got on the mid-afternoon flight, but seated
well apart. I prefer sitting next to Olof, the ultimate Airplane Whisperer.
Want that airplane noise identified? A former Air Force pilot and frequent
business traveler, he’s your guy. I’m not afraid of flying but it always give me an added feeling of
security knowing that Olof could probably land many aircraft in an emergency.
Well, if he remembered to bring his reading glasses into the cockpit anyway.
Otherwise he’d be asking the flight attendant, “Does that say ‘up’ or ‘down’?”
When we were about 45
minutes from San Diego, cruising along around 30,000 feet, I realized I was
actually going to be home in time to watch Dancing
with the Stars - in real time! Back where I was sitting, the businessman
next to me was reporting to the flight attendant that all the overhead air
vents had stopped working. A few minutes later, he turned to me and asked if I
felt the weird vibration. I had barely nodded my head when it seemed when the
plane seemed to slam on its speed brakes, did a “nose over” and began losing
altitude - what Olof later called “the emergency descent thrill ride.” The
pilot came on the intercom and announced – in its entirety - “We are diverting
to LAX for an emergency landing.” Those of us with window seats couldn’t help
but notice that we were over water. I was envisioning us being the next
Malaysia Airlines flight, although probably somewhat easier to find.
Whenever a plane goes down, they always interview the one or two people who at the last minute, through some quirk of fate, didn't board the plane. Well, we were going to be the schmoes who took their place.
But ultimately we
leveled off again, around, I’m guessing, 10,000 feet. The businessman next to
me was sweating bullets. “You know,” he said ruefully, “I just put in for
retirement last week.” The plane was eerily quiet. Dancing with the Stars was looking problematical.
Olof said in the taxi
home later that night that he knew even before the pilot said anything that the
aircraft was having pressurization problems. Not a good thing at 30,000 feet.
A few minutes later, the
pilot announced we were diverting to a different airport. I was starting to
feel more sanguine about the whole thing until the plane arced around and I
could see the yellow emergency vehicles with their flashing lights on the
runway. Just hate that. But the plane
actually landed in one piece. Nobody toasted on the tarmac. Still, a fire truck
right outside your airplane window is never a sight you want to see.
A set of portable stairs
was pushed up to the door and several emergency guys leapt aboard and asked if
anyone had lost consciousness. But everyone seemed OK. Well, physically that
is. (See “drink cart” below.)
We were all repatriated
with the terminal where Olof and I watched our original 6:00 p.m. flight leave,
our seats long since given away. When the airline ultimately provided a new
plane, a number of the original passengers didn’t re-board. And every last
passenger who did asked the same question: “This isn’t the same plane, right?”
The airline made a
fortune on liquor sales on the second flight. (Would a free round been out of
the question???) My businessman seat mate, Chuck (we were now best friends) who
had had a cranberry juice on the first flight, was drinking double
Dewars. Next to him, the guy who had ordered a Blood Mary cocktail mix on
the first flight ordered three Bloody
Mary’s at once.
The person I felt
sorriest for (well, besides the pilot) was Olof who got all of four hours sleep
before heading back to the airport. He is such a trooper.
This airline usually
asks you to review your flight experience. Curiously, they didn’t ask us to
review this one but did offer miles or a voucher for future travel to thank us
for our patience in this “precautionary event.” I think I’m adding
“precautionary event” to my list too.
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