Transcontinental Flight 676
Flight 676, non-stop from New York to Los Angeles was the epitome of convenience and comfort for its passengers. In the time that it used to take a wagon driver to go from the north end of the island of Manhattan to the southern tip this flight would go from the East Coast to the West Coast. Climate controlled, with tasty snacks served by attractive people were an added bonus. A few wrinkles on their clothes and a slight stiffness were the only side effects to the trip.
About halfway through the trip the plane ran into the bane of summer travel. Rising hot air tossed the plane to an fro and made the trip seem much less comfortable. Seasoned travels barely noticed and continued to work or sleep. The novices and the timid were truly nervous, even frightened.
The two experienced passengers on row 37 were suddenly brought face to face with a freakish nightmare. A crack in the fuselage widened to dangerous proportions. The change in cabin pressure was immediately noticed by the planes sophisticated avionics. The pilots took immediate action by descending from their 30,000 foot cruising level to a lower altitude. At 25,000 feet the crack burst open and air was leaving the cabin. The oxygen masks deployed and the screams began. The pilots radioed a mayday and began emergency checklist procedures. As they neared 20,000 feet, an unbelievable event occurred. The fuselage ripped open and both seats and a portion of the floor on row 37 were ripped out of the plane. Pandemonium broke out in the cabin. The flight attendants, strapped to their jump seats, could no longer comfort the passengers. Loose purses, baggage and magazines were sucked from the airplane in a frightening cacophony of sound. The pilots tense but in control updated the FAA on the situation as best as they could determine, since they couldn’t see through the closed cockpit doors and there are no rear-view mirrors on an airplane. The pilots increased the rate of descent and managed to safely land the plane at a nearby military base. The passengers cried, laughed, vomited and expressed their relief and concern. All were safe.
What about the two men on row 37. Here’s where our tale turns bizarre. At 20,000 feet there is not enough oxygen to stay alive for very long. Our two hapless passengers plummeted toward earth at ever increasing speed gasping desperately for life giving oxygen. At 18,000 feet the danger of death by asphyxiation was no longer an issue but they were still plummeting toward earth out of control. Terminal velocity is the fastest a falling object will go when solely pulled upon by earth’s gravity. The pair had reached terminal velocity. One man had the presence of mind to pull out his video camera and start filming his last and most exciting trip. He screamed against the howling wind in an effort to describe a distant cloud that looked like an easter bunny. He turned the camera downward and yelled descriptions of the approaching farmlands and small towns. He whooped like an excited teenager on the biggest roller coaster in the world. At the sound of a truck backfiring he turned the camera to his face and shouted, “I only have a few seconds! What a ride! I love you all!” He tucked the camera to his belly bent over it and hugged his knees.
The two men hit a hay barn. They ripped through the roof like a bullet through toilet paper and penetrated all the hay bales. Remember that they were still strapped to their seats which was still attached to a portion of the aircraft floor. The whole mass tunneled several feat into the earth. Broken bones, internal organs and blood decorated the area in a gruesome manner. As the coroner’s staff collected the remains they found the camera encased in the man’s body. Its outside was damaged as the man’s spine whipped through his body upon impact. Yet the magnetic cartridge was intact.
The tape was given to the cameraman’s family. The replay was bizarre in the extreme as it told not one story but two. The cameraman attempted to record his last adventure but he also recorded the macabre last few moments of his row-mate. After the two quit gasping for breath the other man began crying out to God. “Save me! Save me!” could be heard over the cameraman’s description of the easter bunny. The howling of the wind was later penetrated by the cameraman’s idyllic descriptions of the farmland fast approaching but the cries of the other man turned to yells as he began to negotiate, “God I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything. Save me!” A truck could be heard backfiring in the background. At this point despair set in and his sobs and cries contrasted creepily with the cameraman’s roller-coaster whoops. “God doesn’t listen. He’s not real. It’s all phony.” While the cameraman declared his awe and family love the other man’s final words were a string of curses punctuated by the bang of their explosive impact
Once born, we all plummet uncontrollably toward the end of our natural life. We have a choice to make. Like the cameraman we can take note of the world around us and whoop-it-up at the marvels we see or we can cry, beg, and finally curse God before we die. The choice belongs to the individual and no one can make that choice for them. The end-point is the same. We all die. Whether or not we enjoy the ride and spread wonder and love to those around us is completely up to us.
July 15th, 2008 at 7:18 am
I absolutely love this story. As I read through, at first I was stunned at the cameraman’s ability to see wonders around him. But then I was glad that he did, it was comforting to me to see him enjoying himself as he knew the inevitable was coming. Then when I heard the story of the other man, I wondered if that would be me. This story makes me want to strive to be the one to whoop-it-up and comfort those around me. Thank you for such an inspiring story.