Turbulence

It is time for another quick trip home, and another chance for me to get all whigged out about flying.  I’ll say it again, I hate having to fly. Oddly enough, I think I flown more since I have been in Mexico than I have in my whole life…at least it feels that way.

The mission this time is simple, to collect a few much needed items which include my new tennis shoes.  Mexicans (as a rule) have little feet.  Trying to find shoes to fit me here has proven to be quite a chore.  I resort to much time wasted on line pouring over assorted shoe sites eyeing up potential perfect matches for my feet.  I regret to say it, but I have passed over the apt Rod Laver Adidas for other less than compatible shoes.  I have learned my lesson.

It is also important to see my dad, as he had just undergone some surgery.  Completing these two tasks will make this a successful trip.

Oh, and I am still gunning for that amazing pizza I had when I was there the time before last (a simple pomodoro job) and a decent burger.  Again, these items are scarce in Mexico.

The airport here still bothers me.  Not only are there no water fountains anywhere, but it always seems a bit stuffy.  Our wait for this flight out proves no exception to the rule.  I do not know why, but I play this game with myself, that if I try different newsstands, I may stumble upon a hidden gem, loaded with all the recent magazines so rife in popular culture. No. The newsstands in Mexico City’s airport are pretty bland.  I brought a left over MOJO I had bought on previous trip and left the main story, about Paul McCartney, for the trip back home.   Tonya picked up a few gossip magazines, so she is thrilled.

Typical of flights out of here, an announcement comes over the PA telling us the gate has been changed.  We grab our bags and head further into the series of hallways to our newly appointed place of departure.  When we get there, I do my typical scan of the other passengers to see who we will be saddled up with.  They all look OK, but I have yet to fly with a plane full of Mexicans without some Indian from some Podunk village getting on, or some lofty uber-rich hag making a scene.  After the amount of flights I have racked up, I think it is safe to say that Mexicans are not good flying partners.  My point will be proven again on this flight out.  No sooner are we on the plane than we get the typical “What am I doing here standing in the aisle and what do I do with this bag and what do those numbers above the seats mean…” type of stuff from some inexperienced flyer.  Everyone in their seats huff and puff, as do the people standing behind the lost soul as they have to get themselves sorted out so everyone else who happens to be flying on this same plane can try to get as comfortable as possible in the crammed cabin in impersonal seats.

I take an aisle seat and stretch my long legs out.  The girl across the aisle from me is a well to do, snobbish-type Mexican.  She’s had her nails done and is chatting constantly on her ‘smart’ phone.   She is with her parents and her husband is somewhere else (she has got a huge stone on her finger that is how I know she’s married).

The plane fills up and the pilot says we are ready to go.  After sitting on the runway a bit, we actually start our taxiing.  Tonya hates taking off and landing.  Me?  I hate leaving the ground period, but upon finally feeling all wheels planted evenly on the runway again, I am always happy.  In actuality, I think I hate sitting in any airplane cabin and having some guy cough or sneeze in close proximity to me.  That bothers me more than taking off or landing.  It really geeks me out when the said offense is followed by the smell of a lozenge or a medicinal scent, then you know it was not a dry cough on a crowded plane, but it really is some germ infested, sicky thing that an idiot is spreading onto all these innocent passengers.

We took a later flight than usual, leaving after 5pm. This will put us on the ground a bit after 7pm, Houston time.  I have my magazine and once we are up and flying high, I read all about McCartney’s dubious ‘McCartney II’ album.  Tonya reads about poor J-Lo’s crumbling marriage to that greasy, slimy looking Marc Anthony.   I randomly look over at the snobby girl across the aisle to see what she is reading, but can never get a good look.  I do know that she did not eat her weird chicken sandwich served on a strange orange bun though.  Didn’t even touch her chips either.  The guy in front of her ate two of the sandwiches though!

Time flew quickly.  It seemed like no sooner had the orange sandwiches been picked up than the announcement comes on that we would be starting our descent into Houston.  It is hot; the pilot says about 100 degrees.  They have had a drought and it is taking its toll.  This is a prime example of one reason I am grateful to be in Mexico City and not suffering at the hands of overbearing heat and humidity. 

That is all about to change though.  As I near Houston, so does the freakish thunderstorm out of the north.  It seems both of us are due to be in Houston at the same time.  I would much prefer the crazy winds and lightning lord over Conroe where the pilot said it was, but God sees it different.  For whatever reason, we are honing in on our target, moving in fast.  A flight attendant comes on the PA and starts an announcement about buckling your seatbelts because of turbulence and coming in for the landing.  He suddenly stops and says he will return shortly.  I gaze out of our window and see darkness out there somewhere…hopefully not over Houston.  We are supposed to be making our descent into Houston, but I feel the plane rise.  My brain opens the doors to the safe which tries to keep all my rampant, paranoid thoughts at bay.  I think things may get hairy, but try lying to myself anyway.

A few minutes had passed and the attendant comes back on the PA, “Ladies and gentlemen, as I was saying previously, we had been re-routed to San Antonio…” No!  He had not said anything about San Antonio.  I tell Tonya what is happening and I don’t like it.  On a trip back from Philadelphia a while back my brother and I were coming into Houston when a major storm hit, and we were diverted.  Now the scenario is playing out from the other direction.  My palms start to get sweaty and I feel emptiness in my stomach.  Tonya tries to dispel the thought, saying “Maybe we won’t have to.  The pilot said something about the storm in Conroe, not Houston” I know, but we are about to run head on into one another.  I fear the worse, “No, it’s gonna happen.”

The voice continues to crackle out over the speakers, “…we were re-routed to San Antonio, but now the air traffic controllers say they have a space for us.  We will begin heading back to Houston.  Please stay in your seats and keep your seatbelts on.  We should be landing in about 20 minutes”

The closer we get, the darker it gets.  Looking out my window, it looks as if there is a bright orange sunset.  When I look towards the snobbish girl with the fancy nails, it is solid black.  Everyone on that side of the plane is sitting quietly looking out their windows.  I do not like this, but there is nothing I can do.  I have already finished reading my McCartney piece and now I have to face the reality of the situation.  Another attendant is making the final trip down the aisle to pick up trash.  I hear her tell a passenger it is going to be rough, it is a big storm.  I relay this to Tonya, but she thinks I am hearing it wrong.  By the time the attendant had passed my seat, the plane starts bouncing.  I look at Tonya and say nothing, hoping that my face in glaring bright white and cold sweat speaks volumes instead.

The plane gets rough very quickly.  Tonya gets extremely nervous, grabs my hand and puts her head down.  I try to calm her and myself by talking to her.  She barks back, “Don’t talk to me!”  As the bumpy ride is immediately amplified, some passengers start letting out small yelps and screams.  The plane does a sudden drop, and more than one loud “OOOOOOHHHHHH” is uttered from up and down the aisle.  Out our window, it looks peaceful, but looking out the other windows we see the truth.  It is black and menacing, and now we are getting buffeted to and fro and getting brilliant flashes of lightning thrown in just to keep us more disoriented.  It I so bad that the snobby girl has put her book down and looks me straight in the eye and grimaces.  I flash a nervous smile back across to her.  She holds her hand up over her face to cover her view of the lightning and eternal black void that is just outside her window.  I am transfixed, and wonder if we will know when the lightning pegs us.  The novelty has worn off, as several passengers on the other side of the plane pull their visors down and stare blankly at the bounding seats in front of them.  This is definitely one of the scariest moments I have had flying. I dread the thought, but I wonder if my trip “home” has a double meaning.

We break through the clouds and as we toss from side to side, I really believe that we will make it out of the mess, but the pilot will let slip as we are coming in, the wing will clip and that will be it.  I don’t know how this guy will get us to land evenly and squarely on the runway.  I am not a pilot, but I am betting we will bounce down the runway.

I hold my breath as the landing lights draw nearer.  The plane is still going right to left, up and down.  The ground is right below and he has not evened out yet.  Had I placed bets, I would about to be collecting my booty.  One wheel touches, then the other, then back to the previous.  We wobble as he tries to bring the front down.  When it does, it hits hard and the rushing sound is incredible as he fires up the afterburners to slow us down.  This brings another round of yelps from the passengers, not of relief, but fear.  When the rushing noise stops, and the plane slows down it is obvious that we made it through the storm.  Tonya raises her head and says, ‘That was horrible…”.  The Mexican guy who has been sitting next to her is relieved to, and bows his head and does the sign of the cross, then kisses the charm on his necklace.  I know what he is feeling, and Tonya says the same.

I look at the snobby girl.  She smiles to me.  We made it ok.

“Gross!” Tonya says in a low grumble, and she nudges my side. “Did you just see that?”  I look at her and ask, “See what?”.  She nudges me again and casts her eyes over the aisle, “That girl.  She is flossing her teeth with her hair.  Disgusting!”  I turn to look at the snobby girl, who is now fusing with her hair.  Obviously, she is getting ready for whoever she is about to see.  It may have been a hair-raising flight, but she does not want weird stuff in her teeth when she steps off the plane.  Every single passenger on this plane could not wait to grab their bags and get off.  Thankfully, we had only brought two small carry-ons, so I reached up, pulled the bags down and hurried off.

As we get into the car for the ride home, we are told, “Man.  You guys picked a bad time to land.  The radio said the winds were hitting over 60mph.  The emergency alarm was even sounded on the radio…”  You’re telling me?  We just lived it dude.  We clear out of the passenger pick up area and make our way towards the freeway.  Once we are in the clearing, we see the dark clouds already drifting further away from us.  Why couldn’t the storm have waited…or better yet, sped up so we did not meet at this point at the same time?  “Oh well, you can’t even imagine how much we needed the rain” a voice says.  Maybe so, but it doesn’t make our flight into hell any better. 

I was extremely thrilled at the surprise encounter at The Gap.  Tonya was trying on jeans and asked me to fetch another size.  Like a good boy, I head straight back out to the shelves ot get her another size.  There was a woman standing in front of the place I needed to get to.  She is in my way, and I am in a hurry.  I stand for a moment looking at the woman form behind and think, "I hope this lady doesn't think I am freak, I'm going for it...", and I step beside her, then lean forward and start rummaging.  I am a bit self conscious about my abrupt invasion of her personal browsing space, but I have a job to do.  While hunched over I hear what I think is my name.  A brief second of rationale tells me Tonya is away in a dressing room, no one else knows I am here therefor I must be hearing things.  I hear it again.  I realize I am not hearing things, but someone is actually saying my name.  I stand and turn around.  It was the lady I had worried about thinking I was being intrusive by squeezing her out of the way so I could find jeans.  Turns out, this 'lady' was an old friend from high school.  I don't really care about my high school 'friends' but she is one of the few I have actually thought about over the years. Now, after almost 30 years   We are standing face to face.  I have no idea how long we stood and chatted, all I know is that it was rapid fire. There is so much I would like to know and no time to be able to.

After our 30 years of catching up in a flash, she said she had to go, and Tonya was finished too.  I said goodbye to Kirsten, gave her a hug and told her to come visit.  She smiled and started her way out, flashing that wonderful smile of hers.  As we walked up to our car, I notice that the car pulling out that was beside us was Kirsten.  I motion to the two cars being parked beside one another.  She rolls down her window and says, "Weird, this is really weird"   It was, but it was great. I was truly thrilled to see her.

Regarding the trip back; perhaps it is an unknown phenomenon, but on the way back, as I sat in my aisle seat again, I look to the guy across the aisle from me.  He has his Blackberry or some other modern, square shaped phone out and he’s typing away like a mad man.  The, he takes his tiny typing tool used for his virtual keyboard, and he starts picking his teeth.  Is this a previously unnoticed trend among Mexican flyers?