It was so cold yesterday. So very cold. I couldn’t help but feel for these people in that frigid water, having already tumbled down from the sky. I was so happy to hear no one was critically hurt. There are so many factors going against you in a situation like this, where one degree up or down can mean the difference in plane and body parts all over the river or, well, a happily floating plane with proper raft deployment and everyone alive! Planes are built to fly, which inherently makes them not built to do much else. The light materials usually fall apart on impact or in the air when something goes wrong.
The closest plane emergency I’ve been in was on our way to Paris in 2006. We had an electrical fire onboard and were nearly an hour from Charles de Gaulle. We made an emergency landing and the fire was put out. I remember distinctly when the pilot tried to make light of the situation by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen you won’t be hearing from me for a while since I will be busy dealing with an electrical fire in the cockpit. Please follow emergency procedures as dictated by the crew. Thank you.”
Rob and I just looked at each other, calmly and smiled. I wasn’t gripped by panic, I wasn’t frantic. I was actually very calm as I looked down to the barely visible, criss-crossed pattern of farmlands below. I love flying. I love planes and I love to travel. I’m 100% comfortable, at ease in fact. Airports are places of wonder, filled with interesting people with interesting lives. I love to explore, to people watch, to absorb lives as they flicker by. I don’t understand people who hate to travel or are ill at ease on planes. I could live on one.
Today is even colder. 10º out. Cold as hell. I’ve been regressing back into my sleepless ways and it’s beginning to get to me. I need to get off the computer and sleep! I feel a little lost right now, too much on my mind. Tonight we’re headed to the city, going out to dinner with some friends. Should be fun. We don’t go out enough. I’ve had so much trouble putting things down on paper lately. I feel a little trapped like something’s shifted. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry, dealing with emotional overflow that I just don’t know what to do with…just letting it out. Sometimes I wonder what all the connections I make mean…and where they will lead or am I leading them somewhere.
I’m not making any sense am I? Or maybe I am. I will leave you with a poem, written earlier today about flight and possibly the dangers inherent in it. Icarus sought too much, he got greedy and flew too high and fell to the earth when his wings melted. Should we not aspire to fly as high as we can? Is it worth the risk of falling and is there joy in that fall? Who is to say Icarus did not enjoy his fall, having challenged the sky and the sun, having soared so high? Did he bask in the satisfaction of his accomplishment or wallow in regret on his way down?