Terror in the Sky

When I was in my mid twenties, back in the mid 1970's, I used to fly between Reno, Nevada and Elko, Nevada on a regular basis. The planes were small prop planes, with room for a pilot, co-pilot and 6 passengers at most. Both airports were still small and somewhat rural. It was a nice flight and I enjoyed it. Sometimes it would be snowing, and the excitement of flying through the weather was exhilarating. This was really my first experience at flying, so I am glad that it was in small planes, from small town, to small town, with a smaller airline. It made the experience more personal.

One flight, as the only passenger, I got to take the co-pilot seat, and see things the way the pilots saw them. As we left Reno, on a sunny afternoon, I gazed out over the landscape which quickly changed from the flat landscape around Reno, to larger and larger foothills between Reno and Elko. The lowest and flattest land to seen, was the river of highway running between large hills.

I'll never know if what happened was accidental, or someone was having fun with me, but half way through our flight, terror struck. The pilot and I were talking away, enjoying the flight, when the engines coughed, sputtered, and went silent. I have what are referred to as bedroom eyes, or almond shaped eyes, which means they are heavy lidded and sometimes look as if I am about to drop off into a deep sleep. In that moment, I am sure my eyes snapped open to the size of silver dollars. I'm not a screamer. I sucked in my breath, my chest swelled, my hands and finger nails clenched the ends of my arms rests. I remained silent. I stared at the landscape below, looking for a flat piece of land, somewhere, anywhere, for a safe crash landing, but there was only the ribbon of highway, with it's highway traffic. I'm sure it was only moments, it seemed long some long minutes. I finally looked at the pilot, who must have read the fear on my face. He calmly told me, he had "forgotten to switch tanks." He reached up, flipped a toggle switch and the engines sputtered, again, coughed again, and finally caught and roared back into service. And I breathed again.

When I was young, I assumed the pilot had been distracted by the young, vivacious, blond, with the azure-blue bedroom eyes, and her animated speech, and simply failed to switch the tanks. But I'm older now, and I wonder, if actually, some old seasoned pilot hadn't had some fun and gave this 'ole gal something to talk about, for the rest of her days.

I'll never forget that day. I can see the view in complete detail to this day. I know what it feels like to feel the terror of being high in the sky, and seeing no safe place to land. I know what it's like to ask myself, is this the end for me? I know what it's like to stop breathing because I was sure we were "going down." What I don't know is the true terror of the decent, the helplessness over the pull of gravity, the last terrorizing moments living the explosion of an actual crash. And to this day, I thank God, for that.