It’s 2am in the morning and I am too wired to sleep thinking about the plane that took a dive into the Hudson river. Inaugurate the pilot Captain Chesley Sullenburg the third, never mind Obama.
As a scaredy baby flier I have only recently started to travel by air again, after two decades of hiding out on ferries, cars and trains.
I got bored with myself so felt the fear and did it anyway. Strapped and stuffed ( my, those seats have definitely gotten smaller over the years) into my chair of doom I was clutching a litre of Rescue Remedy and a stack of Tena Ladies Extra Plus and I survived.
The plane that thought it was a cruise ship has taught me a huge lesson. I will never again plug my fingers with my ears and sing ‘Amazing Grace’ whilst the stewards demonstrate how to lifejacket up. Listen and live is my new aviation catchphrase.
I have this romantic notion that every one of the 155 passengers and crew on that aircraft were saved to do something wonderful for the world. Don’t let me down y’all.
The scary image of the plane gliding on to the Hudson was amazing and “Sully”, the brave captain, looked so unruffled. I can’t work out why Americans always display their middle name as an initial (other Barack Hussein Obama) and Chesley H. is no exception. I was trying to see if he was sitting next to Michelle O. at the White House earlier as he should have been. If I’d got hold of Barack who I know has been a tad busy, I’ve had told him to ditch Joe and have Sully as he deputy dawg instead.