In my haste of trying to post last night my near-death experience on the plane Sunday evening, I inadvertently forgot to post the near-death part. Oops.
I could try to blame that on PTSD or something, but actually, I think it's more a matter of just getting old and the brain cells are slowly dying.
I hate it when that happens.
It wasn't until about 3:00 this morning, when I was sound asleep, enjoying a rather wonderful dream involving something about chocolate and warm sandy beaches and warm, wooly kittens - or is that mittens? - when it dawned on me that I had left out the MOST IMPORTANT PART of the story in my last post.
I woke up, and of course, couldn't go back to sleep for hours....that's another hazard, I think, of getting old...when the brain cells get all mixed up between night and day and just don't know when to SHUT OFF.
Who needs sleep, anyway?
So, here's the rest of the near-death experience on Sunday.
If you remember, I'm on a plane between St. Louis and Kansas City...rocking and rolling and bouncing every which way due to severe storms that are blanketing the entire state of Missouri with rain, thunder, lightening, winds, and hail. Joy.
And, if you remember...I've decided to trust my little friend, Ativan, to put me in a happy place, so that I won't go into full panic-attack mode on the plane and run up and down the aisle, screaming, "We're ALL GOING TO DIE!!!"
I figured my fellow passengers would appreciate me not doing that.
As we're approaching Kansas City, the plane begins to go into it's descent...I can hear the sounds that planes make when they're getting ready to land, and I have never been so relieved to hear those, as it means I'm just that much closer to ending this very-scary and frightening journey.
I love plane-landing sounds.
Down, down, down - the plane descends.
I am happy. I am at peace.
And then...uh oh.
Up, up, up - the plane begins climbing. And not just slowly climbing.
The plane has turned almost straight up and has now gunned the engines and is attempting to go up as fast as possible.
I hate plane-taking-off sounds.
What the heck.
We're to be landing - not taking off.
These thoughts all flit through my very calm and almost zen-like mind.
The Ativan has not only produced a sense of peace, but it has also given me unbelievable wisdom....
I casually turn to the lady beside me, and say, with the utmost calm, "Huh. We were about to land, but now we're back to taking off. Wonder what that's all about."
The lady looks at me with the beginning of anxiety cracking the edges of her face.
The plane climbs all the way back up into the midst of the swirling, black angry mass of storm clouds, who want nothing to do with us, and are doing everything in their power to EJECT our miniscule steel tube-of-death back down to the waiting ground below.
After a few minutes, the pilot comes on the intercom and announces, in his best, "I'm a pilot and I've got this under control" pilot voice:
"Well, folks...as you can see, we've had to abort the landing. Apparently, when we came down before, we were just about on top of another plane...We decided that wouldn't be a good thing, so we'll try this again."
I looked at the lady next to me, whose eyes were now as big as saucers in her pale face, and I very calmly said, "Huh. On top of another plane. THAT would have been interesting."
I probably should have shared an Ativan with her at that point, because she really looked like she could use one.
Again, all I can say is, thank God for skilled & trained pilots who know what to do to avoid these accidents.
And thank God for Ativan, which made everything surreal....