An excerpt from “What Lies Within”;
I greeted my first flight, a trip to Miami with my mother and sister, with nervous anticipation as the three of us boarded an Eastern Airlines four-engine propeller plane in Newark, N.J. Mommy calmed me by explaining, “Now, Libby, sit down and buckle your seat belt,” she said. “In a few minutes, we’ll start to go really fast down the runway and then the plane will take off into the sky.”
The plane backed out of the gate, taxied to the runway, and then began to accelerate. “Yea, this is fun!” my six-year-old self exclaimed. “I’ve never gone so fast.” The swift trip down the runway lasted only moments and then the plane ascended into the sky. I thought the clouds were beautiful as we became airborne. When we encountered turbulence, I giggled, thinking that the bumps were fun.
Our sojourn in Miami alternated between swimming and attending movies on inclement days. The day before we planned to fly home, we went to see The High and the Mighty, starring John Wayne, Robert Stack, and Barbara Hale, one of the first “disaster” films. The story told of an airliner with an engine that caught fire while flying from Honolulu to San Francisco. The plane lost power, and the crew attempted to make it across the Pacific safely. I felt tense watching the nervous passengers on the plane prepare to die. As always, Blanche elevated my fear level when she turned to me and said, “Libby, I just know our plane is going to crash tomorrow.”
“Don’t say that,” I retorted. “You’re always trying to scare me.”
“You just wait,” she replied.
We went to bed early that night because we a 7 a.m. flight from Miami Airport. Blanche’s words resounded kept me awake most of the night.
We awoke to a sweltering Miami morning and quickly headed to the rustic airport, which was little more than a runway with outdoor waiting areas. We boarded an Eastern Airlines plane and took off on schedule.
Almost immediately, the plane began bumping around. The blue sky was filled with billowy white clouds, and the turquoise ocean below looked picture perfect, but our four-engine airliner agitated more than anticipated. The captain announced that we were experiencing a little turbulence. He expected it to end as we headed out over the Atlantic for the flight north.
Blanche looked smug as the bumps became more pronounced, certain that her previous day’s prediction would come true. I tried to remain calm until Blanche said, “Look, Lib, the engine is on fire.” The plane began bumping even more.
Moments later, the captain said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a slight problem. One of our engines has failed. We can make it to New Jersey with three, but I don’t want to take any chances. We’re returning to Miami.”
The plane banked steeply, as Blanche stood in the aisle yelling, “I’m too young to die. I’m too young to die.”
“Sit down,” my mother screamed and grabbed my sister’s arm. I was mesmerized by the steep angle of the plane and the beautiful water below.
The stewardess prepared us for an emergency landing, and we made it safely back to Miami.
“Will we take a different plane?” I asked.
“Of course,” Mommy replied. But a new plane never arrived. We sat outside in the heat for four hours, sipping orange juice while they repaired our airliner.
I was frightened when we climbed aboard, but this trip proved uneventful. Four hours later we landed at Newark Airport. Daddy greeted us with big hugs and many kisses. “I’m so glad my girls are all right,” he said, smiling. “I was so worried.”
Eastern Airlines is now gone as are Mommy, Daddy, Poppy, and Blanche, but it brought us home safely that summer day.
After that experience I did not set foot on an airplane for twelve years and grew nervous each time I did.
I have since overcome my fear of flying and now travel the world. I often fly from Los Angeles to Newark to visit my birth mother, who I found in 2004 years ago. Ironically, she’s afraid to fly.