I have wanted to start a blog for a very long time, but I
have hesitated because I can’t seem to get past the idea that no one will
really want to read what I have to say, so why bother; and I don’t have a specific
subject in mind, although I have narrowed it down to a few; and I do know some things, but I don’t think of myself as an expert;
and the list goes on. This week, though, I decided I’m going to write,
and people can read it or not.
I’m starting this now because after my terrifying experience
with American Airlines earlier this week, I have a lot to say. Some of this is
to respond to the many questions I’ve received. Some of this is to try to
describe what a potential brush with death feels like. Some of this is to share
the good, the bad and the ugly. And mostly, it’s too long to post on Facebook, so
today I start my blog.
As many people saw on my Facebook status, I was on an
American Eagle jet last Sunday going from Peoria, Illinois to Dallas, Texas. About 15
minutes into what seemed to be a very normal flight, there was a loud pop, and
smoke poured into the cabin. It kept coming from whatever its source was
somewhere behind me (I was in 5A). At first we thought a window had broken
because of the continuous rushing of air, but the smoke quickly became
the focus of concern.
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Photos by Sheryl I. |
In answer to one of the most-asked questions, the oxygen masks did not drop.
I have since been told we were not high enough in the air for that to happen. (The
flight attendant had just said we could turn on electronic devices.) I have
also been told the masks drop when the cabin loses pressure, which was not the
case. I have been told the pilots can cause the masks to drop, but with the
risk of fire, having more oxygen could be more of a hazard. And I read online
that in the case of smoke, the masks don’t really help because they provide a
limited amount of supplemental air, and we’d still be breathing the cabin air
anyway.
Disclaimer: I have no knowledge of aviation other than the
fact that planes usually get me where I want to go, and Delta has the best
cookies. I don’t want to imply I have any knowledge. I am only repeating
various things I have heard from others if they seem to make sense to me.
After the pop followed by smoke, and the alarms that started beeping, some people started
screaming for the masks. Other people just screamed. There was crying, yelling
and a lot of fear. I don’t think I screamed, and I know I didn’t cry, but I can’t find the words to describe how truly terrified I was. I have been asked
what my first thought was. Here it is. Wait for it. “Well, f**k. I’m going to
die.”
At some point, because I was expecting to nosedive, I
realized the pilots were still in control of the plane, and I remember thinking
that perhaps we could survive this. I’m not sure if the pilots or the flight
attendant told us this, but somewhere I remember hearing we were turning back
to Peoria. I thought we were too far out, and there was no way we could get
that far safely, but I remember feeling a slight bit of hope that they seemed
to think they had options.
The smoke was really burning my throat and eyes. The flight
attendant told us to cover our mouths with clothing and stay as low as
possible. I pulled my t-shirt up over my face and put my head down, and that
seemed to help. I remember telling myself to stay calm and take shallow
breaths. I’m not sure where that bit of wisdom came from. Maybe the flight attendant
said it. I don’t know.
Did I pray? I did. Some people think because I don’t go to temple
and I don’t say much about my religious beliefs that I don’t have a
relationship with God. That is not true, but generally I don’t think other
people need to hear about it. I’m breaking that rule today. I prayed to not die
because my mama needs me and I didn’t want to leave my girls and my sweet, sweet grandson, and I hoped they all knew how much I loved them. Then I
prayed for the pilots. I prayed for them to have all the strength and wisdom
they needed to land the plane safely. I prayed for them a lot.
The flight attendant kept repeating to us to stay in our
seats, keep our seatbelts fastened tightly, cover our mouths, keep our heads
down, stay calm, stay in our seats, keep our seatbelts fastened, etc. We were
told when we were five minutes out and then two minutes out. I looked out and
could see we were approaching our landing. I thought we were going too fast (as
many of us did, I learned later), but they placed the plane down beautifully. Then
as the plane came to a stop, and we were all feeling the relief, the seemingly-calm
flight attendant suddenly jumped up and began yelling for us to get out the
emergency exits. I was a bit surprised, as were others, but I read online later
that people who survive emergency or crash landings have the best chances of
survival if they get out of the plane within 90 seconds. I also learned there
is a thing called Normalcy Bias, which causes people to think they survived the
landing so they can stop worrying. I really must have been affected by that,
because my brain told me we were safe. In hindsight, um, there was smoke
in the cabin!
In answer to the next frequently-asked question, I don’t
know how cool it was to use the slides, because here’s another thing I learned.
Smaller jets don’t have emergency slides! Even one of the gate agents told us
later she didn’t know that. So, back to the exits, I get to the door thinking I
would continue on walking or climbing down steps (because they would magically
appear on the tarmac?), and I looked out and saw nothing but air. Yes, we had
to jump about six feet down to concrete. There were two wonderful men who had
jumped out pretty early, and they were helping people get out. I remember
grabbing their hands and jumping, but (remember the big ankle sprain the night
before our family ski trip?) my ankle did not land well, and it quickly turned
when it hit the ground. More on that later, but again, big picture ….. I was
alive.
Again, I thought the danger was over. Then a calm voice told
us to get away from the plane. Another good idea! As we were landing, the fire
trucks were rolling out, so the voices of reason from the firefighters sort of
took over from there. They were probably the calm voices telling us to move
away from the plane. We were just so happy and shocked to be alive.
Then I realized I didn’t have my phone, and I just really needed to reach
my babies. A lovely young woman gave me her phone, and I could only text
Lindsay because I couldn’t remember Leah’s number (apparently there’s not a “Leah
Cell” on every phone). I remember writing something like “Tell everyone.
Emergency landing. I’m ok. It’s mom. (I thought that was probably important.) I
love you.” The young woman told me she’d let me know if I got a text back. Then
a few minutes later she told me she thought there was a text for me. I looked
at it, and the first two words were, “Holy shit!” and I said, “Yep. That’s my
girl!” :)
I waited my turn to hug the flight attendant, and when I got
up to him, I saw he was crying. He did such a good job keeping us all safe
and calm, and then getting us off the plane, and it was at that moment it
dawned on me that something like this must be horrendous for a flight crew.
The pilots were pretty quiet, mostly talking to the fire department, one of
them videotaping everything, but I did shake the captain’s hand, and he seemed
almost embarrassed by all the gratitude. I will never forget the actions of
those three individuals. I hope they will be able to recover from this as well.
It was cold and windy on the tarmac even for the woman my
children call “Hot Flash.” Again, minor problem considering we were alive, but
when the little parking shuttle bus finally pulled up to start taking us to the
terminal, people started looking around for elderly or disabled people or
others who should go first. I didn’t have a jacket, so they pushed me onto the
bus. It was very sweet. Everyone was so kind to everyone else.
There were other good things that happened that night.
Everyone helped everyone. We took turns just like the normal row-by-row getting
off a flight. No one pushed anyone out of their way, and we all made sure the
others were ok.
Later, in the hotel bar as three other women and I rehashed
the whole episode, we reflected on how fortunate it was that there were no
pregnant women or young children on the flight. I couldn’t even let myself
think about a terrified child going through that. There were no disabled people, and there was
only one elderly gentleman who seemed to be ok. A friend said something to me
later about her parents not being able to jump out of a plane. I thought of my
mother as well. There would have been no way she could have done that. I’m sure
the other passengers and/or firefighters would have handled that, but it
would have been terribly scary for them, and we were all relieved everyone
could get off the plane fairly easily.
I held up throughout the whole ordeal pretty well. Then I
finally got my phone back, and when I powered it up, my beautiful little
grandson’s face was smiling at me, and I remembered how just a few minutes
earlier, I thought I would never get to see him again. I may have shed a few
tears at that moment as I kissed his beautiful face on my phone.
Oh, I was asked how hard it was to get back on a plane the
next day. I was amazed that it wasn’t difficult. I felt that the statistics had
to be in our favor, and I even wondered as the flight got closer if it would
affect me, but it didn’t bother me at all. That did surprise me a bit.
There is more to say, but I will end this post on another good
note. I genuinely liked the above-mentioned three women. You kind of bond
easily when you’ve been through a situation like this, but I would like them
anyway, and I hope we stay in touch. We had a great laugh on the way to the
hotel, when I think we went through a red light or a very questionable yellow
light, and someone said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we lived through an emergency
plane landing and got killed in a car accident?” Some people may not think
that’s funny, but we sure did. Guess you had to be there.
Did I mention how grateful I am to be alive?