After the storm

Maun, Botswana to Windhoek, Namibia. 13:40.
I was asleep on the 10 seater propeller plane when the Frenchwoman’s screams woke me.
The wings were shrouded in clouds. It was impossible to see out the window.

Small prop planes are noisy. I have to scream across the 12 inch aisle to Mark. My seat is shaking, vibrating with the plane. The noise becomes ominous. Something is hitting the propellers. I can’t see out the window. I am asking myself, “Did we hit a flock of birds? That’s bad. Are we just in a storm? If I can’t see, how can the pilots?”
The plane drop sent me into zero G for a moment. I reach across the aisle for Mark’s hand. Suddenly my body consists only of my hands and feet. Both are in a cold sweat. I am completely unaware of the rest of my body until the plane jumps and I’m pressed into the seat on ascent.
There were no reassuring announcements from the cockpit. In fact, I could see directly into the cockpit. The 2 pilots were seemingly unaware of the screaming passengers. I catch a glimpse of the woman over my shoulder. She’s grabbed her handbag and assumed the “crash position”.
I am gripped by fear and notice thoughts that I wonder if other people have when they perceive they are close to death. I remember that the last thing I ate was a piece of feta cheese with peppercorn. “That can’t be my last meal?”
I have no presence of mind to pull out the Flip camera in my shirt pocket. I keep my eyes closed most of the time because seeing the French family’s fear makes it worse.
I think, “I don’t want to die feeling afraid.”
This is the first time, ever, of the hundreds of flights I’ve taken, that I ever think I might die.
I take a deep breath and the fear dissipates.
The plane is still falling, then jumping. That’s when I thought of the post I would write. I force myself to go over as many lines as I can in my mind. The monotony is soothing. Who will I link to? I actually think of the 31DBB group. Part of me is amazed that I am thinking about blogging and not loftier topics. Strange.
When we make it through the hail storm and can see the sun again, I am happy, jubilent almost. Mark pulls out his camera and records me smiling and drafting this blog post in my journal.
The French family kids are vomiting. Mark says it’s awful when the entire plane is vomiting, so this wasn’t his worst flight.
But it was mine. I was more afraid on this flight than standing frozen in a standoff with an elephant the other night.
By the way, please don’t tell my Mother. She doesn’t need to know about the flight.
With thanks to all of you who are reading this.
Windhoek, Namibia. 3 May 2009