Advertisement
Advertisement
I reach for my emergency Xanax. My mouth is dry, so I chew it. Besides, won't that make it work faster anyway? The flight attendant announces that we're making an emergency landing. She explains that we are going to dump fuel to "reduce our chance of a fire." Reduce. Not prevent. Reduce.A man shouts, "Can't we land in the water?!" No. She tells us, "If you see smoke in the cabin open the emergency exits and get everyone out." She shows us how to get into the "brace position," with our heads tucked between our legs.The fire department and emergency responders are on the scene, she claims. And with that, she heads to the front of the plane and straps herself into her seat, closing her eyes. The grimness of our situation consumes me.I turn my phone on and have one bar of service. I start to compose a text to my fiancé. What do you say in a situation like this? I see the news helicopters from the window, and worry he'll find out before I can reach him. I tell him I'm on the plane and that we might be making an emergency landing. I tell him I love him and that I'll text him when I land. The truth is I don't know if I'll be able to text him when I land.The cabin is quiet as we make our descent. I'm not a religious person, but I silently pray. I put my head down to brace. As we approach the ground, the only thing I hear is the flight attendant screaming, "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE, BRACE."On Motherboard: Every Day Over the US, Eleven Airplanes Are Hit By Lasers
Advertisement