Lift With Your Knees

Travel

crashplane

Over the years, I’ve developed an aversion to pilots who use the intercom in flight. You’re trying to sleep, and they point out scenery visible on the opposite side of the plane. Or they delay the in-flight movie to impose their own form of entertainment on a captive audience. Until last week, I thought “but seriously folks” was the most distasteful phase a pilot could utter. As it turns out, that honor belongs to the phrase “Emergency Landing.”

For example: “This plane, which is hurtling through space with hundreds of flammable people aboard, is going to have to make an emergency landing, folks.”

Or perhaps: “If any of you have developed a sudden allergic reaction to gravity, please inform your flight attendants, as we are preparing for an emergency landing.”

See what I mean? Distasteful.

The pilot on this particular flight tells us we will be making an emergency landing at a new airport, one with a longer runway. Apparently, there are concerns about the breaks — specifically whether we have any.

The girl in the center seat turns to me with moon-pie eyes. She’s in her early twenties, and it’s the first time we’ve looked at each other since we boarded. I almost reach for her hand, but instead we stare stupidly for a few seconds. “The nearest exit is five rows up,” I say. She nods. I lean forward. “Five rows up,” I say to the girl at the window. “In case you can’t see, and you have to count.” This girl looks at me like I’m an insane person. Fair enough.

I reach into my bag for my ID so emergency personnel will know who I am. I tie my hair back and find my scarf so I can breathe through it if there’s smoke. I text my husband that I’ve always loved him and Hank. I wait for the plane to burst into a fiery ball of flaming fire.

Meanwhile, the flight attendants rush the aisles checking belts. There’s a problem with the landing gear, it didn’t descend electronically, so they had to crank it down manually. I’m trying to gauge how serious this is, and the flight attendants are exchanging significant glances. Glances that say, “I have never done this before. You?” “No. No, I have not.” Apparently, the attendants are sure that we have landing gear, because no one tells us to brace for impact. This is a profound comfort.

I decide that I will drag my seat mates out of the plane if there’s a problem. With the gallon of adrenaline coursing through my system, I’m certain I can heft them both like potato sacks.

I am mentally rehearsing hefting them like potato sacks as we land. The landing is utterly, blessedly uneventful — just like any other. Except for the fire trucks racing to the wings. And the twenty-year-olds over my shoulders.

Published

71 thoughts on “Lift With Your Knees”

  3. I’m so glad you’re safe a. because we are all better for getting to read you and b. because this was the most hilarious post.

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  5. Beautiful post. Gorgeous.

    Also? I’m a little shocked! I thought you were kidding when you called and said, “Hi. I just almost died.”

    You weren’t really kidding, were you? Sheesh Louishe.

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  6. Wow. I mean, like, wow.
    Glad you landed safely (which kind of goes without saying, but I’m a master of the obvious).

    PS: I am a row-counter even when there isn’t an emergency announced. And I pack a flashlight in my carry-on … you know, so I can guide everyone out of the smoke-blackened fuselage.

    Christ, I hate flying.

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  7. I would like to think I would be as put together as you were in that situation but I am not. I can only hope that if I were flying alone, someone like you would be near me. You are awesome. Truly, awesome.

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  8. Ok, I just read some more comments, specifically Lisa’s, and now I’m crying at my desk. There are so many amazing people in this world. I have to remember that.

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  9. So glad that it all turned out well. And that you were ready to do the heavy lifting if necessary.

    And I also realize that’s why I like your blogs….you remind me that good folk are out there, doing the heavy lifting when called upon.

    Here’s to being ready to do our part.

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  10. That was YOUR plane? I heard about it on the news, but it’s weird that there was someone I kind of sort of know (in an internet-y way) on it. I registered the brief little news story, but honestly didn’t think twice about it at the time. Now I feel guilty and relieved all at the same time.

    I’m flying from Indianapolis to Paris on 3/27. Any other items you would recommend in case of emergency, besides scarf and hair-tying apparati? I know you’re supposed to wear natural fibers because they are less flammable. And flat shoes (duh). But I’d appreciate any other helpful hints you can give.

    I’m very glad you’re ok, and able to share your experience with your characteristic flair.

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  12. You know, I always fly with a scarf not for smoke-filtering purposes, but to trip, tie up, and/or choke a would-be terrorist. Most of the time, I’m a really non-violent person… really.

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  15. I thought I was good just for listening to the safety drill and identifying my nearest exit. Clearly I have some way yet to go.
    Glad you’re safe 🙂

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  16. You are a rock star and not the least bit insane. I always count how far my seat is from the nearest exit. It is important to know and good thing you told your row mates so they didn’t trip you up, not that they easily could over your shoulder, but better safe than sorry.

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  17. i read “I text my husband that I’ve always loved him and Hank. I wait for the plane to burst into a fiery ball of flaming fire.” and then proceeded to cry.

    so happy everything ended well. but scary dude.

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