When I fly I am afraid. I do not worry about terrorists taking over the plane. My fear of flying goes way back before 9/11. I am afraid that the wings will fall off, or the tail will fall off. (Don't laugh, it's happened.)
I read a book once that was supposed to help me get over my fear of flight. The book said that even a large jet that loses power to both engines will glide for long distances. Yeh, right, I thought, that jet is not going to glide, it's going to head straight down, crash and burn. The book also said that a plane will float for quite a while after coming down on the water. Sure it will - unless it loses structural integrity on the way down. Have you ever notice how they describe a plane "losing structural integrity" instead of just saying "the tail fell off"?
Then last week a jet took off from Le Guardia Airport and lost power in both engines after hitting a flock of birds. The pilot glided that plane into alignment with the Hudson River and came down with perfect control. The plane floated long enough to evacuate all 155 passengers and 5 crew. People stood on the wings and the inflated slides until rescued minutes later by ferry boats. That is an absolutely amazing story. I watched it over and over on the news channels and cried with relief watching those people get pulled up onto the ferries.
So here is a poem I've been wanting to share for some time. It's about a flight that didn't end so well.
Waiting for Icarus
He said he would be back and we'd drink wine together
He said that everything would be better than before
He said we were on the edge of a new relation
He said he would never again cringe before his father
He said that he was going to invent full-time
He said he loved me that going into me
He said was going into the world and the sky
He said all the buckles were very firm
He said the wax was the best wax
He said Wait for me here on the beach
He said Just don't cry
I remember the gulls and the waves
I remember the islands going dark on the sea
I remember the girls laughing
I remember they said he only wanted to get away from me
I remember mother saying : Inventors are like poets,
a trashy lot
I remember she told me those who try out inventions are worse
I remember she added : Women who love such are the
Worst of all
I have been waiting all day, or perhaps longer.
I would have liked to try those wings myself.
It would have been better than this.
Muriel Rukeyser
