The first half of the early morning flight went well. I drifted off to sleep nicely and was, as usual woken by the tinkling of activity when the cabin crew reached me with drinks. Shortly after I was handed my coffee and ginger biscuits, they do not serve breakfast on these 3 hour flights anymore, (which reminds me of what South African Transport Minister Hendrik Schoeman once said when someone in parliament complained about the food quality on South African Airways overseas flights: "Wil jy vlieg of wil jy vreet"/Do you want to fly or do you want to eat), we started hitting air "potholes".
[Haven't I had enough this week of Monterrey's roads where is seems the asphalt is just there to keep the potholes in place?]
The air pockets soon gave way to a "sinkplaatpad" before things went from rocky to downright scary. The tiny plane, a narrow body CRJ900 instead of the usual wide body Airbus A320 on the Monterrey flights, (Delta may have got bigger by merging with Northwest Airlines, but their planes and seats got smaller since the merger) started to shake violently, swaying sideways and up and down as if it is a trawler drifting on a stormy sea and trying to ride out the waves. Maybe the pilot was dodging falling meteorites. Not likely. However, it felt like we only ever hit troughs, never cresting any waves. My coffee experienced its own bad weather in its cup, spilling little by little and I grabbed more napkins from the beverage cart still standing next to me (not a good thing because these carts can quickly become missiles during turbulence, in the aisle where the two stewardesses or cabin assistants, flight attendants, which ever, stood frozen in place, holding on to the overhead bins to keep themselves upright, just staring at each, talking with their eyes, looking cool, calm and collected, waiting for the turbulence to subside. Just another day at work! Or is it? 70% of injuries due to air turbulence are sustained by flight attendants. And that cart was smack between them. Uhmm…I guess they knew that and was serious thinking…
In my unknown wisdom I took a blanket when we boarded the flight and it now came in handy. It was spread over my legs and torso catching some of the spilled coffee instead of on my pants. The next moment we were in free fall or so it felt. The coffee cup stayed in place on the tray table but the contents did an escapist dance, lift itself out of the cup and came crashing down on the tray table next to me, splashing all over the guy in the next seat, as did his own orange juice. Synchronized water fountains but without the music. The blanket protected me from any flying liquids, but the fellow traveller next to me was not so lucky.
The plane stopped it free falling with a thud. Something outside the window caught my eye. It was a wing that was flapping up and down far more than usual like when a startled bird frantically trying to get airborne when a cat chases it. Now I was getting worried. They call this thing a bird, but it is a fixed wing plane. They don’t usually flap. And it’s an old plane. What about metal fatigue? Is this it? Is this how life will end for me? Going down in a fiery blaze of "glory"? At lease it will be quick. My life will have to flash by faster than the falling plane otherwise I won't see the movie's end. But then I already know the end. I was experiencing it right there and then.
I was even looking forward to the usual meat processing process of passport checking, customs clearing and security screening. Maybe I was just looking forward to a cigarette? And Atlanta now has one of those 'THING' detectors. Those screening devices that sees everyTHING and submit you to a thorough pat down if it even finds a boarding pass in your pocket, never mind something actually serious and dangerous like a pen that can be used as a lethal weapon. I guess it will then go totally berserk. Those rotating arms will start spinning like a washing machine in spin cycle, all doors will automatically be locked and it will activate Rambo-mode in the microchips planted in TSA agents’ brains. Actually, when I left Lexington last Sunday I was subjected to one of those near-invasive body searches without the machine even giving an alarm when I went through the scanning device. I was “randomly selected” for a thorough pat down the agent told me.
[WTF? Randomly selected? Those are words used by sweepstakes marketing material in the mail. Did I win a cruise on the Costa Concordia?]
I wanted to tell him I prefer to go through the scanning again instead of a near-invasive search, but then I remembered what happened to Kentucky's senator Rand Paul the previous week at Nashville, Tennessee airport so I SHUT UP. The same thing happened to him. The device selected to sound its alarm after he went through the scanner and a TSA agent wanted to do a pat down on him. Random selection! He asked to go through the scanner again. But they refuse. He asked why not, but they didn’t take a liking to his questioning. Eventually he was detained for an hour and submitted to a pat down search in any case.
Hey, if they were that hard lined with a US Senator imagine what they would have done to me. Probably send me to the Newport Aquarium in Cincinnati as shark feed. I played sheep and let them lead me away. I was on the last flight out to Atlanta en route to Monterrey and in no mood to miss my flight, turn around, go home, and get up at 3 am in the morning to return to the airport. Search away and get your kicks.
Makes you wonder why they have these million dollar machines and still have to get physical with the taxpayers that paid for them.
[Certainly not your usual TGIF.]