Clarity in a world of chaos

 

 

 

At some point, we have all had what I refer to as a “Maalox Moment”.  Other may refer to it as having their “pucker factor” go up, eye-opening event, sweating bullets, etc…  Either way, my definition of such an event, is one that puts you in harms way, usually facing imminent death.  

 

While I won’t bore you with the stories of my falling asleep behind the wheel, I will tell you one that- if you have ever been on an airplane before, will certainly raise your pucker factor, and give you a Maalox moment.  

 

June 14, 1991. After 8 months in country, my time in Operation Desert Shield/Storm/Calm was over.  Most of my peers had gone home in April, right after the war ended.  I was (un)lucky enough to be placed on the stay-back roster, to prepare all the vehicles for the return home. At long last, we were about to get on that big-iron bird, and head back to the land of the big PX.  We were supposed to fly at 8:00 PM, but we were delayed 5 hours.  Our DCU’s and patches filled the air with their newness, as we were made pretty for our return to friends and families, for those of us who would have them waiting for us when we got back.  

 

12:00 AM, we boarded the Pan Am Boeing 747 Clipper.  I couldn’t help but think of Lockerbie, Scotland, as a plane just like the one I was getting on, blew up just over 2 years earlier. Be that as it may, I was going home. We all stayed awake until the wheels left the ground at King Abdul Aziz AFB, when the cabin erupted in cheer. Soon thereafter, we were all asleep.  

 

Next stop, Rome, Italy. 

 

About 5.5 – 6 hours later, I awoke, to the pressure changing in my ears.  We were descending. The guys & gals were joking around with the flight attendants, and I was sitting by the port-side emergency door, right above the left wing. As landings go, things were proceeding normally.  The only oddity being, the pilots had not told anyone to put their seat belts on, restored seatbacks, try tables, etc… There were no chimes, or anything.  A little voice said, “Put your boots back on”.  I did.  

 

We were making our turns, bleeding off airspeed, and altitude.  Common sense said, “Go ahead and buckle up.”  Just then, a flight attendant asked if I would autograph her US flag.  I said, “I would be happy to. Do you have a pen?”  She went to go get one.  We were still slowing, and now we’re so low, I can see the rows in the farming fields below, as well as cars, trees, etc.. (Funny, the attendants aren’t even sitting down, maybe all that stuff they tell us on regular flights is a bunch of hooey.)  

 

She came back, she had both arms out stretched to me.  The pen in one hand, the flag in the other.  As our hands met, there was a hard (a really hard) thud under the belly of the plane.  I just knew a Lear jet, 737, or something had flown into us.  The 747 banked sharply to the left, the engines roared, and our nose went up- almost straight up.  I could hear people scream, I could hear the engines whine, the whole time I’m thinking to myself, “this is it…”  

 

I was on the port side, and amidst all the screams from grown men & women, for some reason, I opened my eyes, and I looked out the window.  I saw the tip of our wing perpendicular, and barely above (6-10 feet max) the ground.  

 

The plane was shuddering, and I closed my eyes in preparation for the impact.  My hands were to the sides of my head, and with eyes still closed, I felt the left wing come up, the right wing go down, and the nose come down.  We regained our bearing, with regard to the runway, and we touched down. Now I’m thinking, “We’ve GOT to be running out of runway.  The engines roared loudly as the thrust reversers deployed.  My the Grace of God, we stopped.  

 

We all were looking at each other, and the cabin was very quiet.  There were a few, “What the ____s?: being exclaimed, and the attendant began clapping and, saying, "They got us down, they got us down!" 

A few of us joined in the applause.  I don’t remember if I did or not.  

 

I looked out my window, and saw 3-4 Italian Police cars racing towards us, with blue lights flashing. A ladder truck came too. I thought they were going to take us all off the aircraft, but they only took the pilots.  They left all 372 of us, and the flight attendants on the plane.  After about 2 hours, they opened all the doors, and told us we could get off the plane, but we could not venture beyond the span of the wings.  

 

We got off, and upon inspection, there were big chunks of mud stuck to the plane, branches ant twigs were in the flight surfaces, and huge chunks of mud was still packed into the landing gear.  It’s clear what happened now…  We had missed the runway- big time.  

 

They decided that plane would no longer be used to transport us, so they searched for another 747 to take us the rest of the way home.  The closest one was in Germany, but it had to be serviced, a crew readied, then flown to Italy, luggage and passengers re-loaded, before we could take off.  7 hours later, the new 747 arrived, and parked near us.  We unloaded the cargo holds (Well, not we- I didn’t get picked- thank God!) and soon thereafter, we de-planned, and boarded the new 747.  

 

Nine hours after the ordeal began, the new Pan Am 747 was thundering down the runway, next stop, JFK in NYC. If there had been a ship going to the USA, I’d have been on that, but- I ended up getting back on the horse pretty quick.  All 372 of us did.  

 

The rest of the flight was uneventful- just like I like them to be.  They let us aviation buffs come up to the cockpit two at a time, and over the Atlantic, at 38,000 feet, I was in the cockpit of a Boeing 747, cruising at 551 MPH.  AWESOME!!!  People talk about snow-blindness, but now I know why pilots wear shades.  The sunlight reflecting off those clouds will blind you too.   

 

The pilot was talking to us (he wasn’t looking out the window) and the co-pilot was looking at the controls.  Giving this engine a little more, taking a little bit off the other.  That was an awesome thing to see.  

 

Who knew a 747, loaded with nearly 400 people, 400 ruck-sacks, and 800 duffle bags could be so nimble, and athletic to be recoverable from the angle we were,  at the low speed we were traveling?  I’m sure Pan Am gave the pilots credit, but in my opinion, God had to lift that plane back right. Given the lack of attention to normal landing procedures, I wouldn’t be surprised if the pilots weren’t asleep.  I just don’t see how the pilot was able to recover us from that, given the little amount of time this took place in (10-15 seconds, max).  Nevertheless, I’m here to tell about it. 

 

Well, that’s my Maalox moment.  What’s yours?