Turbulence

I am not a nervous flyer, I’m just going to throw that out there right now.  My sister thinks that you have 50/50 chance every time you get in a plane.  That's not what this is about.  However, just because I don’t automatically think that we’re going to crash when the plane takes off doesn’t mean that I enjoy turbulence.

Most of the time, I can play it off.  Sometimes though, there’s more turbulence than I can rationally pretend away.  I'm talking about that terrible drop when you come out of your seat a little.  That shaking, violent shuddering of metal as it lurches and dips through the stormy, black clouds.  When you know the plane is either going to fall apart or get hit by lightning.

When this type of turbulence happens, always- always- the captain comes over the loud speaker and whispers, "Ahhh, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we're coming up on a little turbulence....ahhh, please return to your seats and make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened." 

At this point I usually synch my seatbelt as uncomfortably as possible and begin telling myself how calm the captain sounded, which is why I shouldn’t panic.  “Didn’t you hear him, he was whispering he was so calm!”

Besides, it's not really that bad because the stewardesses (and the one steward, Steve, from Dallas who is just fabulous and hilarious over the loud speakers) are still walking around collecting cans and making sure that all seatbelts are securely fastened.  

It's not bad unless the captain comes back on and, not in a whisper at all, says "Flight attendants please take your seats."  And I think "Good God, man, just fly the plane, get off the speaker!"

Then Steve and the ladies strap themselves into their much more secure looking seats with the over-the-shoulder harnesses.  One of them (not Steve because this is no time for games, this is serious) tells us to “Please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened as the captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign.”  I always think, "No kidding, lady!  If I could climb into that harness with you I could!  I’ve been cutting off circulation to my legs for the last 20 minutes!"

Now you know it's bad because everyone is quiet.  There's really no feeling like that of being in a group of grown-ass adults who know, instinctively, that they should not talk because they are about to die.

The next time the plane shudders, some lady in first class whimpers, and I just want slap her face because she's got nothing to whine about.  She's in first class!  They get free drinks!  I’m the one who's going to die in coach!

Then, as suddenly as it came, the turbulence stops. Everyone collectively un-grips their arm rests and turns to the person next to them and does that little half smile, half laugh thing.  "Hee, we all thought we were going to die, but we didn't!  Heehee.  Isn't that not really funny at all?!"

Exasperated, I find myself picking up SkyMall (does anyone buy the "bronze" statue of Bigfoot for their lawn?), and think that maybe, yes my shower could use a small bamboo bench on which I could shave my legs...or sit!...or sit AND shave...  

Then, there’s Steve all smiles collecting any last minute trash and asking that you please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in the full upright and locked position.

Am I the only one who just sweated through their smart, travel savvy Gap tee that is unfortunately light gray?  Am I the only one who realizes we were all strapped to jet fuel hurling toward the ground?

Then we land, and the captain comes on and says something like "Well folks, we've made it to Orlando where local time is 3:45.  We were scheduled to land at 3:57, so we got ya here about 12 minutes early.  Blah, blah, blah, blah."

This speech always, always irks me. Why?  Okay, first, why the colloquialisms?  We've gone from sultry whispering captain, to urgent authoritative captain to Todd Palin.  Who are we dealing with?  

Second, you know what I would have liked more than arriving 12 minutes early?  Not thinking I was going to die for 34 minutes. 

Third, how about an apology?  Do you think pretending like it was a good flight will make us think it was a good flight?  It won't...we remember what you did to us.

Look, I appreciate that you landed the plane and we didn’t all die.  All I'm saying is, let's be adults.  When there are crappy flights, and there's going to be crappy flights, don't pretend like nothing happened.  It doesn't make us feel better; it makes us feel crazy.  

 So next time you narrowly cheat death and land that potential fireball, Mr./Miss/Ms./Mrs. Captain, please know that we know that you know that this was a close call, and there’s nothing you can say to change that fact.

Other than that, thanks for returning us to earth...this time.