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November 9, 2006

Light Em Up, Cause We're Going Down

It was my first time with the oxygen masks

Right. So I'm live from Bismarck, North Dakota. This is not by design. By design, I would have been in C@L for hours by now, nestled upon my air mattress with my eyes a mere 18 inches from my oversized television. But, due to some problems with the, um, pressurization system, my EWR-SEA flight made an unscheduled landing in Bismarck, where I am currently typing/ stewing.

I mean, I guess I shouldn't be stewing too too much. I did have a first-class seat (thank you, upgrade) for the whole ordeal; it would have been much worse in coach. I thought we were going to have to spend the night in some fleabag motel; instead, we just have to hang around until 3 am to get on another plane to C@L (the good people at Continental sent one up from Planet Houston to rescue us). And the folks here at the lovely Bismarck airport (none of whom work for Continental) were good enough to order pizza and drinks for everyone. I thought that was nice. Oh, and right, there was the whole matter of the "we didn't die in a horrible plane crash" thing. That was also nice.

This is actually the second time that I've been on a Continental flight from EWR to SEA that had to pull over because of a problem with cabin pressure. The last time we stopped in Billings, Montana for a couple hours. That wasn't very stressful, though, since I was sitting next to an off-duty Continental pilot who talked me through the whole thing and insisted it was no big deal.

This time? This time definitely could have used some more reassuring announcements from the flight staff. Once the temperature suddenly changed and the oxygen masks popped out, I think everyone could have used a quick explanation, or at least a volley of "Don't sweat it, no big deal" from the cabin staff. Nope. They told us to put on our seatbelts, attach the masks, and move our seats into the upright and locked position. Ummmm, okay.

What you need to know about the oxygen masks: you actually have to pull pretty hard to get them to reach your face. I can see why they're always going on and on about how kids will need help with it. You essentially have to break the release on this second string that's holding it up in order to get it down to your face. Also, save for the slightest hint of brisk, wintry air that you taste in the mask, you really can't tell if it's helping or not. Or even what it's supposed to be helping (especially since the first thing they do when they lose cabin pressure is bring the plane down to 10,000 feet so everyone can breathe). Also, I couldn't help but think of Brad Pitt's little speech in Fight Club about the oxygen being a palliative to calm everyone down before their imminent immolations, though I thought it would be discourteous to bring that up with the terrified-looking dude in the seat next to me.

The terrified-looking dude in the seat next to me also didn't appreciate when I tried to lighten up the mood with a little gallows humor. After we'd been chatting for a few minutes in the midst of the mask treatment -- before we had gotten an update from the captain -- I deadpanned, "Yeah, someone must have activated an unapproved electronic device -- you can't say they didn't warn you!" Total blank stare. Just nothing. Of course, the poor bastard was probably a little fixated on the thought of "his three children growing up without a father" and didn't need my smartassery at precisely that moment.

Not that I wasn't a little disturbed by the whole thing. Despite my previous experience with the cabin-pressure thing, this one seemed a little sketchy. The flight attendants looked pretty concerned. No one was smiling, no one was reassuring. Sure, they were all business, and they had a job to do, but I maybe mistook their urgency for a bit of fear. The thing that kept me on track was that I could see both the wing and the engine, and they looked fine. Also, it's pretty rare that the planes just drop out of the sky; usually crashes happen around take-off and landings (or so I want/ wanted to believe).

And, to be honest, plummeting 35,000 feet to my death in a plane feels like a pretty lousy way to go -- if only because you'd have those final minutes of horriying "this is it, this is the end, it's coming, but I'll have to wait for it" nausea before you finally died. That's always tripped me out. If I had to pick, I'd much prefer a sudden explosion in the fuel tank or even a shoe bomb. Anything but the plummeting.

So yeah. I'm here in Bismarck. In case you were wondering, it's area code 701, and Papa John's will deliver to the airport, though they won't pick up a six-pack at 7-Eleven -- even if you offer them ten bucks for their trouble. Fingers crossed for a safe flight back to C@L (and for my upgrade to continue on this flight).

Posted by thatkid at November 9, 2006 12:03 AM under ThatKid

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Posted by: bradglory at November 11, 2006 6:19 AM

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