My Fear of Flying

        I love to travel by plane, but like most people I'm more than a little tense during take-off.  I always grip the arms of my seat and say a quick, but extremely sincere, prayer as the plane roars down the runway at an ungodly speed.  Never in my wildest dreams (or should I say nightmares) did I ever imagine that my most frightening flight experience would happen long before the plane ever left the gate.
My husband Dave had been working in Chicago for several weeks, and I decided to fly up and meet him for a much-needed get-away weekend.  I was assigned seat 22-A, a window seat near the rear of the plane.  I boarded a few minutes before take-off, stored my carry on bag, tucked my purse under the seat in front of me, and settled back into my seat eager to get started on my July issue of GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.
         “Help, please somebody help this man!”  The cry came from two rows behind me.  I turned around just in time to see a very large man dressed in a business suit grab his chest and slowly slide under the seat in front of him.
         Complete chaos broke out on the plane.  Stewardesses, the pilots, and several passengers rushed down the aisle past me and started to tug and pull on the man, who was now unconscious, desperately trying to pry him from where he was lodged under the seat.  This took several minutes and unfortunately they were very critical minutes.
         Finally the man was dislodged and laid out in the aisle.  Immediately one of the passengers, who by now had identified herself as a registered nurse, began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  As she struggled with her patient, the reality of the situation slowly started to sink in:  This man was having a heart attack.  My stomach felt queasy, and my head began to spin.  “Dear God,” I pleaded, “Please don’t let me faint.  That’s all these people need right now.”  I laid my head in my lap and took a long, deep breath.  My prayers were answered.
         Soon the paramedics arrived and in no time had the man, who was still unconscious, wired to all sorts of medical paraphernalia.  They spent the next 30 minutes trying to resuscitate his heart with shock paddles, but to no avail.  The pilot returned to the cockpit and announced to his bewildered flock that the man had indeed died.  We were told that the coroner had been contacted, and we would all have to remain on the plane until he arrived.
         The scene that followed that announcement was bizarre to say the least.  The stewardesses sauntered up and down the aisle passing out soft drinks and magazines.  Passengers chatted and joked with one another; several even strolled up and down the rows visiting.  Within moments the atmosphere had changed from that of a solemn vigil to that of an annual family reunion.  All the while the body of this still unidentified man lay in our midst like some sort of large centerpiece brought in just for the occasion.
         When the coroner arrived, we were instructed to deboard the plane, but to remain in the gate area.  We obliged, grateful to move our party to more comfortable surroundings.  However, as we waited and watched by the large gate windows, the mood once again turned somber.  The emergency chute of the plane opened and a white body bag slowly slid downward and came to rest in the back of a waiting ambulance.  The plane then drew the chute back into its side and the announcement was made, “Flight 153, destination Chicago, Illinois, now ready for boarding.”  We took a community deep breath, gathered our belongings, and bravely reboarded the plane.
         I quickly settled back into seat 22-A.  Suddenly I felt tense.  I gripped the arms of my seat, said a quick, but extremely sincere prayer, and looked around to see if everyone was breathing normally.  Only when the plane began to roar down the runway at some ungodly speed did I finally relax and open my GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.