Because I’ve been on planes with turbulence before.
But then, the plane dropped.
“Everyone find your seats, now, please!” The pilots voice sounded strained.
And the plane dropped, more violently, and that’s when people started screaming.
With every drop, a few screams and a few cries rose from the passengers.
And me? I automatically turned and grabbed onto the arm of the person seated next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, gripping onto his arm harder, as the plane continued shaking and I curled into a ball.
Because I didn’t know what else to do.
“It’s ok,” he said. “It’s going to be ok.”
The violent turbulence lasted 60 seconds. 60 seconds of doubt. Of cries filling the plane. Of screams. No more.
Probably less, actually.
And after those 60 seconds, my row-mate extracted his arm from my desperate grip, and began talking.
He was from Trinidad. He’d experienced plenty of rough flights throughout his life.
“I just don’t think a plane ride would be the worst time to die. Actually, it might be the best,” he said. “Because before going on a plane, most of us message our families to tell them we love them. Which is what all of us most want to say before we die….”
“We’ve said it… Is there anything else we really need to do?”
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