Stormy Weather

Ever been on a turbulent flight? I've heard nightmare stories but have been pretty fortunate to have had very few, seriously turbulent flights. On those smaller planes of course nearly any flight seems to be a bit more bumpy and subject to the whims of nature. Luckily I've never flown through a storm in a puddle jumper.

En route to London this month I flew on a 757 between St. Louis and Chicago. There were thunderstorms in both cities and flights were delayed. The better part of the 45 minute flight was through a storm - even at a few hundred feet before landing the cloud cover was so thick we couldn't see the city. At one point (during beverage service, of course) there was a stomach jumping bump - just like what is felt on a roller coaster. It took me by surprise. A collective gasp was sung in unison in the cabin. And, a passenger's beverage popped up out of the cup and back in, almost like a pogo stick. A spritz of soda, popping up and back down. It was kind of cool.

I must confess the flight and the storm did feel a bit ominous, forboding. I was pleased to have a window seat to look out, over the wing. The wing felt very centering, very grounding as the plane rattled and shook a little through the storm. Knowing that this 20+ foot wing was jutting out from where I sat, a flashing light, reflective strips, moving pieces that would adjust for landing and stopping was comforting. More comforting that I'd ever given thought to before.

I remember traveling to Jordan and Egypt, about ten years ago, with a group of travel industry professionals. First off, the trip was nothing short of incredible (but that's another post or three, in & of itself). One of my travel companions worked for a competitor; her job was to negotiate airline agreements. She worked with all of the major airline carriers on a daily basis. Yet on this trip, at each take-off and landing, she assumed the crash position. Her forehead nearly touching her knees, her hands behind her head. She was buckled in, but obviously fearful. A silent fear - a visual fear - no sounds, no complaining, no agonizing beforehand.

Well, maybe it wasn't fear, but rather a compulsion or perhaps even a lack of trust in the mode of transport. Putting myself in her place, I don't think I could work in the industry, much less fly. It was rather ironic, odd. By the end of the trip - four flights later as we taxied down the runway for takeoff - I looked over at her. A fellow traveler had coaxed her to relax a little; she wasn't hunched over. I'm not sure if it was a victory for her or not. I prefer to think it was. Maybe now - nearly ten years later - she can read her book, or even nap, during take off. I do.