Trip to Hell (and back)
Well I left the ground last night at peace. When I landed, 2 hours later, shaken (not stirred) I was at war. My flight from Atlanta to Newark NJ was due to leave at 8.15pm. Due to a tornado warning south of the city and the resulting heavy rains and generally very bad weather, the trip did not go according to plan.
About 8.40 we were seated on the plan. Actually only half of first class was seated. Just after getting on board, we were told that seating had been suspended as the pilots it seems were stranded in Birmingham Alabama and Delta did not know when they would get in. So we sat in our seats, the few of us, sipping the brew that best suited us. I looked out of the window at the myriad of flashed burning shortly but in conflagration upon the tarmac, centered on a single beaming light – as if rockets falling on a single target. In truth, about this time, we were already at war.
About 9.15pm we were told that some pilots from San Deigo were about to land, and would be with us by about 9.45pm Won’t they be tired I thought? I guess not. By the time we took off, the rain had abated and I did not think too much about the flight. As we ascended the darkened sky, I watched out of seat 2D the flashes in the sky high above us. I knew that lightening could be fun to watch from a plan – I had seen it many times and wondered at the marvel of light and shapes.
As we reached about 5,000 feet I spotted 3 horseman in the sky! Three large horses heads, shaped in billowing but upright clouds, raced behind us, as if we were in a race against them. Their bodies were masked in a softer cloud, only their heads were visible – but all three were the same distance appart and they all faced the same direction! It was a strange sight. As I watched them drift to the rear, I saw the lightening from behind them. It seemed then that the lightening was all about the right side of the aircraft. I hoped we would take a left turn.
And yes, we did take a left turn. Then a right turn. Then a left again. In fact it seemed like we were avoiding something. Then, the turbulence got worse. In fact in 12 years of flying over the US and Europe, this was one of the worst I have felt. For about 10 minutes the plan was heavily buffeted, and several times my heart skipped a beat as I was thrown forcefully against my seatbelt. I prayed, as many others that night, that those engineers and maintenance crews were well paid and happy in their work.
We reached high above the clouds – and though the turbulence slowed, I could easily see the storm away to our right. The full moon was clear above us, the clouds a mass, a whirling pool of convulsion below us. The light show was every 3 seconds, mostly away from us, one in ten all around us. But the worst was past us. As we traveled on, several times I spied plan lights below us, to the right, headed back toward the storm. I did not want to be those chaps and I hoped that they would be OK.
After settling down at 37,000 feet the captain informed us that there had been bad weather located close to us, but not on radar. And as traffic had been backed up, ATC had not allowed us to fly around what we would normally have done! Hence the fun and games. He used the words "pretty bad" when describing the turbulence. He was not kidding.
The captain later came over the speaker system to inform us that indeed the war had begun. Great. That’s another story, one that will not be told here.
The plane landed at Newark in reasonable comfort, albeit 2 hours late. Little did I know that the end of the journey was not quite in sight. I was second in line for a cab. Why I could not be first, or third, I don’t know. It was midnight, or close to it. I gave the cabbie, a dark gentleman of probably African origination, the hotel name and address. He asked which exit was this? I had little idea what road to take, let alone what exit was needed. He asked for a hotel phone number. There was one on my reservation. He called.
He started talking in some fashion of English – though it was not clear to me exactly what he was asking the guy at the other end of the line. Clearly the conversation was not making headway. I asked what the problem was. The cabbie told me the guy at the hotel does not speak English! This disturbed me! After a rough flight, all I wanted was bed. And now I was in a foreign land! I ended mediating between the clipped African English of the cab driver and the Indian laden English from the hotel! And here I was, an Englishman in New Jersey!
The drive itself was about 15 miles. It took as the best part of 45 minutes to get there. We got lost, twice! It seems the exists given to us to take did not exist, at least on the route we took! We ended up taking loops to head back the way we came – and finally made it.
