After the Great Weigh In (which I learned later was very necessary to even out the weight distribution on the small plane at 10,000-feet up), we boarded the little plane. Seat 2 - right behind the pilot. Somehow, that made me feel quite comfortable. I felt regal, in a way. Almost like Captain Steve and his co-pilot were my own personal pilots who were paid to take me to the luxurious island of Nantucket. The doors closed and the regal feeling was quickly replaced with claustrophobia. My years of yoga paid off... breathe through the nose, out the mouth...
The flight to Nantucket from Boston is 45-minutes and on a clear day, it's one of the most beautiful sights to see. At 10,000-feet up, the city of Boston looks peaceful and quiet. The islands off the coast are beckoning to you ... to watch a landing so close is almost surreal.
Friday was a beautiful day to take flight. Sunday was another story.
Captain John boarded the flight with his passengers in toe and ready to head home. The propeller stirred up and the Cessna was on its way down the runway. It was a smooth ride for about 10 minutes.
The air was choppy today, which made for a choppy flight. Try and picture this, please.
Small Cessna (shown below) flying through high winds over the Atlantic Ocean. It might be too hard to conceptualize. I had my eyes closed for as much of the flight as I could stand (Type-A personality causes one to need to know what's happening at all times, so opening the eyes was inevitable). My eyes opened as we headed into the black cloud. I'm going to die.
The plane started flying side-to-side pendulum style. A few dips here and there. My hand firmly placed on the seat in front of me for stability. Captain John had both hands on the wheel. And then, the end... the siren. If I were to die, I have a feeling this is the sound I will hear. It's a high-pitched BEEP that alerts you to danger. DANGER. BEEP. FUCK.
This was it. This was how I was going down. I always wondered how would I die, morbid as that is to say. But I really didn't want to die a size 8-10. I know I can lose the extra 10 pounds if God will just land me safely in Boston. Fifteen minutes to go. The city was near -- I could see the top of the Boston skyline beyond the smog. And the ocean not far below.
Yoga breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Three seconds each breath. Keep breathing.
As humorous as it is to tell this story, it's the first time I had a real near-death experience. I can say I've never been so scared for my life, and at the same time, I bless Cape Air for the perfectionists they hire to fly the planes. There's nothing you can do about wind, but a skilled pilot makes all the difference.
Thank you, Captain John.
We landed safely at Boston's Logan Airport and got off the plane.
"I think I'm going to throw up," I said to Heather.
"I think I need a valium," she replied.
I walked into my apartment, poured myself a stiff drink and took a deep breath. Would I do it again? Absolutely. But not before I get a wind report... and a valium.
1 comment:
What a well written post! (not that they all aren't, but this one stood out). I have to say I felt myself holding my breath the entire time I was reading your post. I can definitely do without taking little airplanes and have had my share of scary flights. Nantucket by ferry for me, please!
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