Last hour last flight
Sometimes in life lighter moments occur though they are not so light at that moment. Reliving those moment have a therapeutic effect when we are feeling low. Here’s one funny moment.
An ominous silence ensued. There was an absolute silence inside the plane barring the rattling of the engine and the egregious turbulence. There was no announcements by the captain nor were any members of the crew were seen. There was a heavy downpour outside, and visibility was limited due to the heavy fog and cloud cover. The pilot was not landing the plane and was just circling the airport waiting for the propitious moment to land. Weather showed no signs of clemency and was very formidable. With each passing moment that we were on air, tension started mounting. There was a big party of friends among the passengers and some nuclear families with small kids. The excitement in the air gradually faded away from the fellow passengers eventually resulting in a melancholy gloom. Few of them tried to put up a courageous visage, but the imminent premonition weighed them down and was very apparent when you looked at them. The captain tried to land the plane on the runway, but in the last moment the plane would take off. Chills ran down the spine. Suddenly out of nowhere, my friend Mr X (yeah lets call him Mr X) sitting beside me bent over and ushered “How about we write a book titled ‘Last hour, Last flight’”. If there was anything solid in my hand, I felt the urge to land it on Mr X’s head.
Ok, so here’s the background, Four of us, old classmates, decided on a trip to Goa, a tourist destination, during July. We knew it would be raining but we were ready to take a chance. All four of us met in Bangalore airport, boarded the plane and it took off. As we neared our destination which was an hour away by flight, rains welcomed us with all it’s might and glory.
Ok, his ramblings did not end. I was sitting in silence praying that the land be visible at least, but there seemed to no cessation from his side and he kept on badgering unabated. He quipped again posing the same question, “Chaitra, what do you think we write the book “last hour, last flight”. Few children started vomiting due to the turbulence. This only added to the gloominess of the situation with all the puking and clamouring. But yet Mr X’s rhetoric and histrionics continued.
I don’t know what emotions took the better of me. Was I bristling with fear succumbing to the atmosphere inside the plane or bristling with rage over his quirk remarks. Did he even realize the gravity of the situation, I ever wondered.
I was glad to see the runway again, but again the pilot was not able to land the plane and it took off again. Now came the masterpiece. He ushered in my ear, “where is the life jacket”? I didn’t reciprocate wantonly, but he was relentless as he posed me the same question. “I don’t know, must be below your seat” I said with no enthusiasm. Suddenly he pulled the life jacket from beneath the seat and started to check it and did not forget to pose me with more questions. I was in a state of quandary. The only thought that came to me even in that precarious situation was “What good is a life jacket if the plane decides otherwise, i.e. not ram into the sea?”.
Anyways, all is well that ends well. Finally after multiple circuitous sorties, our plane landed safely on the runway and all the passengers breathed a sigh of relief and clapped for the skilfulness of the pilot. It seems very funny recollecting the experiences, but it sure did not seemed funny then.
