I told this story to some friends last week – people I’ve been friends with for years and years. They were incredulous that they’d never heard this story.
“That’s the first thing I’d tell people about myself if that happened to me” said my friend John.
“Tell me more!” Kellie demanded . . .
When I was in 5th grade my parents sent me to Texas to visit my pen pal, Stephanie. They sent me alone.
It wasn’t my first airplane ride, or that might have been a little intimidating. But I wasn’t much for fear of being away from home, and the plane ride was no more concerning to me than a ride in my Mom’s old station wagon.
The stewardesses took good care of me, and I arrived in Texas without incident.
And then it was time to come home.
Again, the stewardesses kept an eye on me, bringing me snacks, being sure I was properly belted to the plane, etc.
But when we came into Salt Lake, that’s when things got a little harrier.
The landing gear on the plane wouldn’t come down. And so we circled the airport for a little over an hour while they tried to fix it (fix it how? Did they send mechanics by tether out to the belly of the plane?). Finally it was decided that landing gear wasn’t going to come down, and we’d have to make an emergency crash landing.
I remember them announcing it over the PA, I remember the flight attendants instructing us to lean forward, hug our knees. I remember circling the airport before that. I remember wondering if I was going to die.
“Did you cry?” Kellie asked me, when I told her this story last week.
I didn’t. Here’s the thing I remember about those minutes of contemplation as I wondered about the fate that was coming my way —
I remember thinking that I knew the church was true. I really did. I knew what happened when you died. I knew that you lived with Heavenly Father, and your loved ones. I knew that I would see my family again some day. And never one for fear of being away from home, I had a very real sense of calm as the moments unfolded.
We “crash landed” onto the belly of the plane on a grass airstrip at the Salt Lake airport. It skidded and slid to a halt amidst a team of fire trucks and emergency personnel. They helped us off the plane and back to the terminal. The pilot did an amazing job – no one was injured, the plane didn’t burst into flames, in fact, the whole thing was quite anti-climatic.
“But what did you’re parents think?” Kellie followed up.
I drew a blank. In all the times this story has been told (which is usually a one-liner – “I was in a crash landing once” I have never asked my parents what they were thinking while waiting in the airport. And I’ve heard my parents tell the story too – “She was in a crash landing once.” and they’ve never expounded either. Perhaps I shall have to ask them.