Walking in the Valley A bi-weekly column, featuring one Christian's (a)musings on life's journey by Barbara Dahlgren

The Trip from Hell (Part One) – Thank God We’re Alive Column for the weeks of August 16-31, 2008

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My roots are from the foothills of the Ozarks and I love visiting family in that area. For years I’ve been trying to get some of my aunts, uncles, and cousins to come see me in San Jose, CA. Most are tied to farms and families, so they haven’t had the opportunity to travel much. However, to my surprise I got a call from my favorite Aunt Dee (age 78) about a month ago saying she and her daughter Rose (a few years younger than me and don’t even think about asking my age!) and Rose’s daughter Heather (age 7) would be paying us a visit. I was thrilled to have three generations coming to visit.

Airplanes can be a little scary for the novice traveler, but I assured them that flying is quick, easy, and fun. Dee had only flown twice before, Rose just once, and Heather had never been on a plane. The trip to California went well. We did the tourist thing (San Francisco, the beach, the redwoods) and soon it was time to say farewell. As we put them on a United flight to St. Louis via Denver, CO Saturday afternoon, August 2, 2008, we prayed for a safe journey and protection.

I don’t know why some of us can fly around the world multiple times with only minor inconveniences, yet others who haven’t flown much at all can have almost everything go wrong on one short trip. All I can say is that my relatives more than exceeded their quota for flying mishaps. Here’s what happened…

We waved good-bye to them as they placed their carry-on luggage and souvenirs on the conveyor belt to be screened. Not wanting to spend the money to check baggage they each had a roller suitcase, a giant purse-like bag, and numerous plastic bags full of souvenirs. The whole process of taking your shoes off, putting little toiletries in plastic bags, Rose having a metal rod in her arm from a car accident that set off the metal detector, and so on can be a bit intimidating, but soon they were on their way to Denver. That flight went well.

The real adventure started in Denver. Their out-bound flight was not going to make it due to bad weather in another part of the country so United picked up a small, substitute plane somewhere (my aunt thought she heard someone say from Little Rock, AK). There was much confusion when they finally boarded around 10 p.m. There were a lot of children on this flight. With only two seats on the left side and one on the right the attendants had problems arranging everyone so children would be with parents. It was a challenge just to get everyone on this tiny plane. Once they had Heather and Rose leave the plane, but Rose told them she couldn’t leave her mother on the plane alone. The three of them were a package deal. So they did more rearranging.

When they all boarded for the final time, a rather large woman with three children followed them onto the plane and sat behind them. She kept saying, “Mmm…mmm! This ain’t good. This ain’t good. I’ve never ridden on a plane this small. Something bad’s gonna happen. Mmm…mmm…mmm! This ain’t good!” Everyone fastened their seatbelts, decided to keep a positive attitude, and make the best of a bad situation even though the pilot didn’t look a day over 21.

As they started down the runway, the plane felt like it was running over huge, concrete blocks. It vibrated and gyrated as it went bump, bump, bump, but finally lifted off the ground. The big lady behind Rose wanted water but the flight attendant, seated in the galley a few rows ahead, kept telling her that she couldn’t get it for her until the plane reached 10,000 feet. The woman kept going on and on, saying, “I need a drink. My mouth is dry. I need a drink. I gotta have a drink.” So the attendant rolled her a bottle of water down the aisle. They never got up to 10, 000 ft. The pilot announced on the intercom that they had a flap problem and would be returning to the airport.

As they neared the airport they could see fire trucks, ambulances, and policemen waiting for them. The big woman mumbled, “This ain’t good. No, no, no! This ain’t good!” And indeed she was right. It was not good. The landing was worse than the take off. The little plane hit the ground shaking and thumping. Heads were bouncing up and down almost high enough to hit the ceiling.

When the plane finally stopped, the pilot came on the intercom and said he thought the tires blew out on impact. Everyone needed to sit where they were until the tires cooled off, then they could taxi to the terminal. He retracted that statement moments later and said they couldn’t taxi in, so a large “tug” vehicle was going to pull them in.

Suddenly they smelled something like plastic or rubber burning. Dee noticed her feet felt hot and she saw smoke out her window. She said, “Rose, you’ve always said when you go you want to be cremated. You might get your chance.”

Rose answered with, “I hope we don’t become crispy critters.”

The big lady just kept repeating, “Mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy” over and over and over.

The firemen sprang into action, spraying the plane with fire retardant foam. When the kids saw the foam on the windows, they got frightened. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” Rose told them the plane was dirty so the men were washing it.

There they sat for about a half hour. Eventually, they were told to leave all their belongings on the plane and exit – not by stairs or a shoot you could slide down, but by climbing down a chain link rope ladder similar to those ropes you keep on the second floor of a house in case of an emergency. One by one they climbed down with the assistance of firemen stationed on each side to help. As they stepped through the foam to dry land they overheard one fireman say the flames had been 4 to 6 feet high.

It took a long time to get everyone off the plane. Fortunately no one was severely hurt, just in a state of shock. They all stood there looking at the fire trucks, firemen, policemen, ambulances, and the small, damaged aircraft – thinking, “Thank God we’re alive.”

Unfortunately their trip from hell was far from over.

Be sure to visit this page often to read the next edition of Walking in the Valley. You can write to the author at bdahlgren@wcgsouthbay.org.