They that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. For me, this didn’t happen—I just began to say my goodbyes.
Two weeks before my flight home, I began having very vivid dreams of a plane crash. Not one to be paranoid, I chalked the dreams up to stress and didn’t think anything more of them. Nonetheless, while my plane was still at the gate, I said a little prayer to God asking for a safe flight home.
Having been a frequent flyer my entire life, flying is not something scares me. So when the plane experiences turbulence, I merely shake it off, and think nothing of it, often times laughing a little at those who fear a little bump. So, when I become terrified of turbulence, it’s not a little thing.
When my flight reached the halfway point, we began to experience turbulence. I noticed that the turbulence was more severe than normal, and became a little worried, simply because of my haunting nightmares, but I told myself, “Cowboy up,” and continued watching the in-flight entertainment. The turbulence got more severe though, to the point where I was concerned. This concern was heightened when I saw flight attendants not walking, but running to their seats. I can tell you as a frequent flyer that this is not a settling sight.
The turbulence continued to get more severe, and I began to clutch my armrests for dear life. It was then I realized how severe the situation was—a flight attendant took a spot by the emergency exit. I looked to my right, to the Korean pastor sitting by my side. I found comfort in that there was a man of God sitting next to me in what might be my final moments.
As the turbulence continued, I began to pray again, telling God that I was not ready to die; I just wanted to see my family on Christmas. And then—freefall. What felt like 7 seconds was probably in reality only 1 or 2, but it was enough time for me to stop thinking about not wanting to die, and I began saying good-bye.
Yes, there were screams. I’m sure I was screaming, too. When the freefall stopped, I felt that my face was wet with tears. I wasn’t sure when I began to cry. The turbulence continued, and I prayed that we would not have another freefall. Today was Christmas and I just wanted to see my family.
After another 20 or so minutes of turbulence, the plane finally evened out after rerouting itself. I unclamped my hands from the armrest, fingers now cramped, hands now white. Around me, several people got up to use the restroom for they had soiled their pants. I was surprised I hadn’t.
I looked at the people around me, all of us still breathing heavy and wincing at every bump. It was then I noticed that my pinky was throbbing, and I took a look at it. It was now swollen and blue, and I realized that in my fear, I had broken my pinky by clamping down so hard on my armrests.
For the remainder of the flight, I instinctively grabbed my armrest at any bump. I noticed people wincing with every wrong movement of the plane. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that when we landed, I almost kissed the ground.
Now I sit in the San Francisco airport, waiting for my next flight. I’ve never been one who is afraid of flying, but now, I don’t know if I can bring myself to board.
