The Window Seat

A symbol of a seat belt illuminated above me. “Attention passengers,” Said the hollow intercom. I was already in my seat, ready to finish the pair of flights that culminated in some of the most stressful days of this year.

“This is the captain speaking. With the lightning storms along the Washington skies, we’re expecting heavier than normal turbulence. So it’s recommended you keep your seat belts on at all times,” The speaker blared. It seems the storms were following me from Texas to the greater Seattle area too, I thought. Just one more flight to go. Seattle to Spokane. --After that, I’m done. I can finally spend my new life there.

I wasn’t the type to be scared of this weather though. The worst part about these flights were the bleating children and the proximity of strangers around me. --It wasn’t the booming thunder or the lighting. But the warning was useful. A worried mother ordered her daughter to switch seats and sit between her brothers, to avoid the window. Meanwhile, the children themselves complained about matters unknown. The captain continued:

“The arrival time is about 35 minutes. Because of the dangerous weather, I’ve instructed the flight attendants to remain seated through the duration of our voyage. So, apologies, but there will be no drinks or snacks. Thank you for flying with Alaska Airlines.”

As the attendants went through the flying safety protocols, I dug out my pen and notebook from my disorganized pockets: “Please be aware of the life vests underneath the seats,” they said.

My plan was to do a little writing before I land. I watched outside the window as the plane moved silently on the dark asphalt.

“In case of emergency, you’ll find yellow breathing masks automatically drop down...”

A drenched man with a guiding orange light was assisting the captain from outside. He waved at a consistent pace, walking with the jet as it pulled away from where we funneled inside. His dripping face had the look that said it all. --He’d done this countless times before, possibly in worse weather.

“...put your hands around your legs, or on the backs of the seats in front of you, and curl into yourself to brace for collision…”

After a considerable time, the speed of the aircraft picked up, and the humming inside grew to a deafening pace. By then the attendants had finished their safety demonstration, and checked between the aisles to ensure seatbelts were on.

The kids at the front hushed their arguing and whimpered as the engines came alive. I watched through the window as we lifted off. The wing must have been fighting heavy winds. It was flapping, slightly, like a bird. The lights at the edge of the wings illuminated hues of blinking red against the darkness. Soon the clouds engulfed us, and I could no longer see the stars above or below me. I only saw the flapping wing, and a crack of lightning from far away.

I put down my notebook, and dozed off looking into the abyss.

I woke up to chaos.

The light hum of the plane was replaced with thrashing, like an earthquake. My whole body vibrated. I knew the plane was crashing down at that instant. The cabin was still dim, and a dead silence hung over us. Why isn’t anyone screaming? I only saw tense faces.

No one was curling up to brace for impact. I attempted to remember how to do it myself.

I look up.

There must’ve been a malfunction at my seat, because the breathing apparatus didn’t deploy. I yelp in a panic, causing my neighbors to yell too.

In a hurry, I look towards the window. --To see how long it would be until my fate was sealed. Until the plane crash landed.

Oh.

We landed already.