Conflicted Senses
By Matthew Boyd
As I stepped onboard the small twin turboprop puddle jumper I couldn't help but notice the glazed look in both pilot’s eyes and the excessively cheerful smile of the lone flight attendant. Their enthusiasm was strange given the small, unimportant runway we were about to taxi down. Sitting next to the runway was a terminal the size of a clown car. The waiting area was stuck in time thanks to its 1980s look and the flight receptionist booth next to the departure door appeared to have lost most of its warped and faded trim years ago, perhaps by being left outside in the rain. This airport may not have been the ideal facility to depart from but certainly it must have met the stringent guidelines of the FAA, right? In order to ease my concerns, I sat in my seat and told myself that the airport had little to do with the reliability of the plane itself.
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Several minutes passed while I made a few last minute glances at my phone. I sent an e-mail to my girlfriend and my father to let them know that I was about to take off. The lone flight attendant caught my attention as she walked by chewing intensely on a big wad of gum. The heavy scent of her perfume made me sneeze. Was she trying to cover up something? Maybe she had a drink before boarding to ease her nerves. Maybe I should have had a drink as well.
In an instant the door to the plane was shut and locked by the flight attendant and the left propeller came to life, creating a dull buzzing sound within the cabin. As the plane taxied down the runway the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. He struggled to speak in a clear and authoritative manner but as he described our itinerary I had concluded that the whole crew of this small plane had been drinking. My stomach sank and I snapped my head around to look at the other passenger’s eyes to see if anyone else had come to the same terrifying conclusion that I had. They were lucid. We were about to climb thousands of feet into the air at the mercy of an alcohol-impaired baron and yet nobody else seemed to notice or care.
Was I overreacting? Should I say something to the person sitting across from me? What if they think I’m crazy? What if I cause a panic or a mutiny? I told myself that my anxiety of flying was amplifying situation to an extreme. There was nothing to worry about and only a loon would make a big deal of the situation and scare the other passengers.
As we reached the runway the pilot overcompensated on the brakes and the plane jerked to a stop. I waited in calm hysteria for the plane to thrust forward for takeoff. On every flight I take this is the part where anxiety climaxes. I begin to pessimistically prepare for the laws of physics to suddenly reverse as we attempt to defy gravity like the countless flights before us, sending us right back to the earth before anyone on the plane can even blink. A mere gust of wind could send the plane on its side and smear it across the ground. I took my last breathe and held it in, waiting for chaos to strike and for the abrupt blast of smoke and flames to fill the cabin as it collapses on itself like the Hindenburg. For a second I was certain that I could accept death and then frantically rejected it as I thought of all the things that I should have done with my life before stepping onto the plane.
My adrenaline-filled thoughts were stopped midstream by flashing lights outside my window. The engines shut off. At the front of the plane I saw the cockpit door open and the pilot quickly whispered something to the flight attendant. She quickly joined them in the cockpit and then exited anxiously. She pulled on the release lever that sealed the door to the plane. The steps lowered and up them came an official-looking man. He made eye contact with no one as he opened the cockpit door and spoke privately with the pilot and copilot. Both pilots exited the cockpit and made their way down the steps of the plane without making any eye contact. The official addressed us with a calm but serious demeanor. The pilots had just been taken for sobriety tests after a flight traffic controller picked up on their slurred speech and lack of attentiveness. Maybe I should have been relieved that my suspicions had been confirmed but instead I felt dreadful shame for not taking action when my premonition struck me moments earlier.
That night I laid wide-eyed in self-guilt in a hotel near the airport. I had failed to stand up and take action for something that I believed was wrong. I felt sheepish and weak. It became one of the most valuable lessons in my life and I vowed to always stand up for what I thought was right, even if it meant going against the grain or stirring up controversy. It’s why I refused the Airline’s offer to board the next flight out and instead rented a car for my trip home.
