You should see the goose...

This US Airways flight landing in the Hudson really stuck with me all day today. First of all, a plane crashed in the Hudson River. Second of all, no one was seriously injured. Third of all, did I mention a plane crashed in the Hudson River?!?

The pictures were quite astonishing of this small jet in the water with people crowded together on the wings awaiting help from the neighboring ferry boat. Somehow, though an extremely odd situation, it all looked rather mundane really. I suppose I tend to personalize everything, but it happened a couple miles from my old stomping ground and was a flight on US Airways from NYC to NC (many of which I have taken). So, somehow I just kept picturing myself on the flight.

It should say something to most of you that the first thing I thought of was the tragedy of losing my laptop. As I carry everything I am working on with me at the moment, I could just imagine all of it floating to the bottom of one of the most polluted bodies of water known to man. Anyway, I have resolved to never get on a plane without backing up to a disc, which I can carry with me in my pocket during a water rescue. Ha. The books and notes would be a rather tragic loss but I think upon reflection later I would trade them for my life.

I also was just rather amazed at the ability of the US Airways pilot to maintain his cool, locate somewhere safe, bring down the plane in the water and get all his passengers to safety. Given that I have been hanging out with a pilot (CS) a bit lately, I know these guys are smart, have great instincts, and are trained like mad to handle situations like this, but it still absolutely amazes me. I mean, the lives of so many people depend upon your split second decisions and calm under pressure. However, when you get in that moment, even those smart, instinctive and trained guys sometimes lose it. For instance, when my plane caught fire a year and a half ago, the pilot really seemed to panic. He dropped 20,000 feet, made the oxygen masks drop, was one of the first people off the plane and was nervously talking about "fire in the tube" as he walked passed the passengers in the first row of Coach to leave. If that guy had both engines fail over Manhattan, would he have landed safely in the Hudson?? I cannot say. So, what makes someone with the resolve to do the right thing at the right time? "I won't say a hero, 'cause what's a hero? But he's just the man for his time and place." The Cohen Brothers really nailed it with that one.

Lastly, this makes me desire to tell the tale of the previously mentioned time my plane caught fire. It had just been a terrible start to my time alone in the world. I had left behind my family, moved to New York alone, found out my apartment had bed bugs, projectile vomited, dented my Dad's truck, upset a seminar organizer at my undergraduate alma mater, had my laptop stolen AND barely slept all in the last month. I had also given four talks, attended a wedding, been at a week long conference, finished a paper, started a new job in New York, discussed taking the job I have now and started a new project all in that month. Finally, I found myself on a direct flight from Koeln to Newark ready to just crash on my newly purchased futon, which I had hope was still bed bug free due to the fancy plastic covering I had for it (I had bought 2 just in case one was not enough).

On the plane I was looking forward to a nice dinner with my roommates featuring the bottle of wine I was bringing home and a good night's sleep while reading a rather delightful collection of essays about books a friend had given me for my birthday. After I would finish each essay I would glance up because they were playing Spiderman 3 on the plane. It had received some critical acclaim and I wanted to see if perhaps I would be interested in seeing it even though I had not particularly enjoyed the first two (Suffice it to say, it is no Dark Knight). Well, while in this exhausted stuper, I start seeing a fair amount of commotion in the first class cabin. The old man at the end of my aisle leans over and tells me he heard a flight attendant say someone is sick. Shortly thereafter, the pilot comes on and declares we are making an emergency landing in Ireland.

At that point, I was wishing I could do something more to help the poor, old, rich bastard having the heart attack in First Class and not terribly worried about the stopover in Ireland. I figured we would land, they would carry the guy out, hopefully he would be alright and eventually we would be back in time to still get a bit of sleep before I had to head to work the next morning. However, then a flight attendant came over the loud speaker and asked any of us if we had a screwdriver or pocket knife on us. Given that we are expressly forbidden from bringing such items onto planes, it seemed a bit odd. The only thing I could figure is that some crazy doctor needed to perform an emergency trachaetomy (OK, I like Scrubs ... get over it).

We continued flying over Ireland, the large, bald Air Marshall and rather flustered flight attendants kept bustling wildly about in first class and I without much else I could see to do really just kept reading my book. Then, all of a sudden our plane began to drop. Now, I have a strong stomach, believe strongly in the capabilities of machines and am in no way prone to doubting technology, but the way we dropped so fast and the oxygen masks coming down made me think we were in serious trouble. Since I was sitting near the wing I looked out and would have sworn that what I knew was a natural bend at the end of the wing was in fact possibly the structural support of the wings failing.

Shortly thereafter I reassured myself the wings always looked that way but the ground kept coming closer before the pilot pulled up and essentially began skimming the treetops. The pilot announced that we need not use the oxygen masks and finally acknowledged that there was an electrical fire they could not get under control in the First Class cabin. At this time, I really looked up from my book to actually observe the thickening cloud of smoke filling the cabin. I even realized I could smell it. Now, two emotions hit me at this time. One was that it was a bit unnerving to be trapped in a flying plane that was in fact on fire. The other was that I am the type of absent minded intellectual who when reading a book would not notice they are trapped in a fiery metal tube going several miles per hour. It seemed to me like being a person who noticed such things even while reading would serve me well in the future, but alas I doubt I will ever be one of them.

Well, we shortly thereafter come to the airstrip in Shannon, Ireland and plop down on the runway with firetrucks in hot pursuit. The firemen storm onto the plane, put out the fire and eventually we all get to deplane to a cordoned off gate because none of us have legal permission to enter Ireland. During this four hour sequestration, we all talk and learn from the first class passengers that the Air Marshall used all three fire extinguishers on board and still the fire burned behind the panel. It turns out the tools they were requesting earlier would have been to remove the panel behind which the electrical circuit was on fire.

After quite a while we were finally admitted to the country of Ireland, bused to a hotel, charged to use the phone, allowed to drink a Guinness or two, woken up at 4 AM, bused back to the airport to wait for the check-in counters to open at 8 AM, then forced to wait on our further delayed flight until almost 11 AM. The real kicker here is that they put us back on the same plane. Some were obviously unhappy. They did have the courtesy to repaint the panel where the fire had occurred and to allow the people sitting in the row where the oxygen masks randomly sprung out somewhere over the Atlantic to change rows in case that electrical circuit was a bit off as well.

Anyway, we eventually arrived safely, though exhausted and a bit beaten down. All in all, not a terribly exciting story compared to the people who survived today's crash, but a pretty good yarn nonetheless.