For some reason I seem to have a load of plane stories. Can’t think why that is but I have flown a lot in my life.
New York to Philadelphia is but a hop. Probably 40 minutes or so gate to gate. Back in the mid 1980s Delta had a ‘commuter service’ from La Guardia Airport. It was probably quicker door to door by plane but one day I found myself on the morning flight. Not sure exactly what the plane was but it had around 12 seats only. Its as very cramped and noisy. The flight down was largely uneventful although I do remember clearly that before take off we were given an in flight snack of pretzels.
Having done a day of visiting clients I headed back to the airport. Bad news. The aircraft had developed ‘technical difficulties’ and the flight delayed. Most of the other passengers, who were largely my fellow morning travellers, disappeared, probably to get the train. I was left with a handful of people waiting at the gate. After about an hour an announcement. We would be leaving in about 20 minutes as a plane had been ‘found’. The Macdonnell Douglas MD 90 had seating capacity for around 190 passengers. As we showed our tickets we were told we could sit where we chose. I got on last and whilst my 4 or 5 fellow passengers turned right at the door I turned left and sat in the First Class cabin. The plane closed up and two delightful young women introduced themselves to me and told me I would be getting their undivided attention. ‘What would you like to drink when the plane has levelled out’ was the question. Out of my mouth came a phrase I had never heard myself say before or indeed since. ‘Bourbon on the rocks”. Why I cannot say. The flight to New York was short and I am afraid to admit I drank the first bourbon and two more before we landed. All very extraordinary.
I used to go to Boston a lot during my time in New York. Rather like Edinburgh in the UK Boston has some of the most sophisticated Investment Institutions in the world. Names like Fidelity will be broadly recognised. It was an awkward journey as I lived in Connecticut and the drive to New York’s airports was around an hour. Add an hour for the flight plus all the messing about and you will see what I mean.
I heard that relatively close to my home there was a small airport called White Planes and that there was a service to Boston from there. The journey up to Boston was relatively uneventful although the plane itself was hideous looking and very noisy. I was in Boston overnight and I took the lunchtime flight back to White Planes with the prospect of an early evening home attracting me.
A soon as the pane started its take off run it started to move around violently. It was windy, very windy. I had but one fellow passenger a black man who was already looking very unhappy and sweating. The plane took off and started lurching around. It was very unpleasant. The Pilot came on the intercom and reassuringly informed us that the turbulence was caused by high winds and we could expect a very bumpy trip-thanks. The black man who was sitting across the aisle from me a few rows back became very unhappy and started pushing his bell repeatedly. The hostess finally came to his aid although she had to hold on to the seats to support her. ‘Bring me wine’ he bellowed in a beautiful booming baritone voice. ‘Please bring me wine’. She tried to tell him there was no cabin service because of the weather but thought better of it and returned with a full bottle of red wine. The man started to drink from the bottle in huge gulps. After a while he seemed too calm down and he began to sing. I suppose it must have been a spititual song of some kind. I tightened my belt and held tight as I was serenaded all the way to White planes.
It is truly alarming when the pilot comes on the pa to tell you bad news.
It was Christmas Eve 1987 and we were heading from New York to Manchester to spend the holidays with my Mum and Dad. We were paying so we were sat at the back of a very busy plane. “Ladies and Gentlemen this is your pilot speaking’ “We have major engine difficulties. One of our engines has failed and we need to dump fuel before returning to New York where we will be making a fully supported emergency landing so do not be surprised if you see fire trucks ambulances and the like”
In those days you could smoke on a lane!! All cigarettes were ordered to be extinguished and the pilot gave us a runnning commentary as the fuel, tons of it, was dumped over the sea. We then headed back to NYC. As we came into land you could see all sorts of emergency vehicles racing along side the mighty plane as it landed. Tom my son thought it all good sport. I had managed to avail my self of a few of those Vodka miniatures as the trolley had been momentarily been left by my seat. Liz and I had a nip each and we decided that what ever happened we would not scream and would put a brave face on for the children.
We were put up in a hideous hotel on Long island and after about 3 hours sleep we were coached back to the airport. Our plane had had its engine ‘fixed’ we were told but there would be a final test before we took off. It was freezing cold and as I looked out from the departure lounge I saw a large black man with an Afro Haircut tucked in one of those brightly coloured tea cosy hats. He was on top of a cherry picked apparently screwing up a panel on the main central engine. This is not a racist comment but all I will say it did not inspire confidence.
It was the year of Simon and Garfunkel’s multi award winning album and I had my ‘walkman’ on with it playing in my ears. It could have been tiredness or perhaps a desire to protect my young family but I became totally terrified. I turned up my walkman to full as the plane started its take off roll. This act cause me to burst an eardrum and to this day I still have a permanent whistle in my ears to remind me of the trip.
By far the most terrifying flight I have ever taken was from Aspen airport in the US. A week of skiing had ended with a large storm coming through. The airport had been closed for two days. Aspen airport is an amazing place. America has many faces but the airport serving the prime ski resort in the country is not only spectacular in its setting it also has parking for literally dozens of private jets. Super rich Americans own ranches in the area and at weekend they get in their Gulf Stream or similar and head off for the weekend.
After a week on the skis we were on our way to Dallas to visit with some friends our connecting flight gave us some privilege and despite many cancellations we were confirmed on a 5 o’cklock flight from Aspen to Denver. We boarded the plane, a BAC 146. Liz, Jo and Tom in a row in the middle of the aircraft and me in an aisle seat at the rear. The doors shut the pilot came on the intercom. She was a woman. Very rare in those days and the message she gave out did little to settle my feeling of unease.’ Ladies and Gentlemen, you will be aware of the stormy conditions. This flight which will cross over the Rocky Mountain range will be subject to extreme turbulence. There will be no cabin service and the cabin crew will be seated for the entire flight for yours and their safety’. ‘Please do remain calm all conditions are within the aircrafts tolerances”. Gulp! I pointed out to my neighbour, who had decided that getting off was a good idea, that the plane was British and all would be fine she was not impressed.
The plane took off and soon it began to lurch and shake. This lurching gave way to a roller coaster ride like no other. People were screaming. Toms base ball cap came off and I clutched on to my arm rests. The woman next to me clutched on to my arm. It was not a long flight and good ness knows how far we fell and rose but it was without any shadow of a doubt utterly terrifying. We landed in Denver shaken and quickly changed gates for our flight to Dallas. Tom did not want to get on board. We two ended up seated at the back with Liz and Jo further forward. The thought of a similar experience to the one we had just survived was not a good one. A soon as the aircraft was airborne the drinks trolley appeared and as I was at the back we had an early opportunity to get a drink. I ordered a large Bloody Mary and took a sip. I decided to visit the loo and when I returned the drink was gone. Tom had drunk it and I don’t blame him!
Tales of a Life Well Lived 