I have to tell you about my trip to see my family in stages because it’s already 9:00 and I’ve done nothing to get my children prepared to go back to school tomorrow and the list, it is long, but I wanted to quickly say that my trip was just delightful except for the part about getting there because this time I went by plane and, as most of you know, I am a relaxed and peaceful traveler when sitting in a tin can with rockets attached.
After reading that sentence, Craig is most likely choking on his coffee and nursing that crushed right hand that still twinges on a cold day courtesy of the death grip it received when we narrowly escaped a mid-air collision with another plane while on our return from Jamaica. I’m sure that event was neither harrowing nor dangerous and yet I never let the slightest anomaly keep me from turning that story into a DEATH DEFYING EVENT because I am a blogger and it makes for a much more interesting story than “We flew home from Jamaica and had to let another plane land first when we inadvertently got on the same glide path. The end.”
See? Not as fun.
Anyhow, I was on the last leg of my journey from Atlanta to Oklahoma City, laughing a little at the misadventure I’d already had what with the woman in her pajamas who was having the emotional crisis and the emergency being declared at Hartsfield (that turned out to be nothing more than a fire door being breached and why did they have to have airport-wide strobe lights and emergency sirens for that?) and I finally was able to relax a little when the attendant announced that we were beginning our initial descent in OKC.
I tightened my seatbelt (Who am I kidding? It stays securely wrapped around my spleen the entire time because I’ve read enough stories about people cracking their skulls when hitting air pockets) and started getting excited about seeing my folks and then the pilot came on and said “Folks, we’re going to take a couple of loops around the airport for a few minutes while the ground team makes some preparation to meet us. The flaps on the plane are stuck in the upright position and that means we’re going to have to land at a faster speed and so we’ve asked the airport to roll the fire trucks so they can be on standby just as a precaution when we land.”
FOLKS, WE’RE GONNA’ DIE! WE’RE GONNA’ DIE WHEN OUR PLANE HITS THE GROUND AND WE TUMBLE ACROSS THE PRAIRIE WITH PIECES OF AIRPLANE WING RIPPING OFF IN CHUNKS AND THEN WE’LL EXPLODE IN A BIG BALL OF FLAMES!!!!
My blood pressure raised faster than Lazarus at the voice of Jesus.
And speaking of Jesus, He and I got REALLY close in the five minutes it took us to get that plane down to ground.
We flipped, we flopped, the plane was all twisty going down (and looking back, I’m sure it had nothing to do with the flaps and everything to do with the fact that the wind NEVER STOPS BLOWING in Oklahoma) and I was quoting ever scripture I’d ever learned including “Jesus wept” and “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might” which is the verse I’d quote before slugging my brother and when those wheels touched the ground and we did not go careening into the Great Beyond, the happiest of tears of relief sprung to my eyes and I may or may not have hugged the pilot on my way out the door (who laughingly told me to speak kindly of him when I posted my experience to Facebook).
I also briefly considered converting to Catholicism so that I could kiss the ground when I stepped off the plane but my mother suggested that a trip to Hobby Lobby and some Braum’s french fries would perhaps be a little more therapeutic.
She’s a smart one, my mama.
After eating and shopping, we made our way home and after a piece of chocolate pie (It was MEDICINAL, people, MEDICINAL), I had to take a little nap to get over the excitement and as I drifted off to sleep under the my pink childhood blanket I made plans to move my family by wagon train out to OK so I’d never have to fly again.
Have a nice day.