Six or seven years ago, I was flying from Seattle to Sacramento. Twenty minutes into the flight, the overhead lights on the left side of the cabin all went out. Oh well, there was enough light from the window to read, so no biggie. Then a couple of minutes later, the captain told us that there was an electrical problem and we were going to divert to Portland. That was plenty scary; we were only an hour from Sac at that point, and they didn’t know if the plane would make it that far?? But what really frightened me was when the flight attendant told us a few moments later to return to our seats, put the trays up, etc. – and her voice was shaking. I’m one of those people who watches the FAs for cues. The turbulence may seem scary to me, but if they’re cheerfully going about their business, I know that everything is fine. I’d never known an FA to display fear, until that day.
It took maybe 30 minutes to get to Portland but it seemed like an eternity, and it was a strange flight. The FAs buckled in as soon as everything was buttoned down. All cabin lighting was turned off. The plane descended to maybe half of cruising altitude for the duration of the flight, and it seemed to me to be flying quite slowly. Turns weren’t the usual degree of bank turns, but were very very gradual. When we landed we could see next to the runway the full fleet of emergency vehicles, lights flashing, and they escorted us all the way to the gate.
I’d never been a comfortable flyer, but that really shook me up. Since then, I’ve managed to grit my teeth and get on planes when necessary – blessedly infrequently – but it’s been one of my least favorite things to do. But what happened this past Sunday (yes, on 9/11) has put me off flying forever.
We were again flying Seattle to Sacto. The flight was pre-boarding, so we got up and sauntered over to where we figured the line would form, and we happened to stand in front of a guy who was talking on his phone. After a minute, I somehow noticed that he wasn’t having a conversation but rather seemed to be recording a message, so I started listening and heard things like: “It’s been an honor to be your son.” “You’ve been the best wife any man could have asked for.” “To my church friends, the ministry is well established and will be fine.” And finally, “I love you all, and I’ll see you in heaven.”
That “in heaven” was it for me. As casually as possible, I went to the counter and told the agent what I’d heard. (DH remained where he was, and heard the guy replay his message several times.) The agent immediately called her supervisor, who immediately went to talk to her manager. Some minutes went by, and we told the gate agent that if that guy got on the plane, we wouldn’t. She told us that they’d hold the plane until this was resolved, and advised us to go ahead down to the end of the gangway. In a few minutes, the supervisor came down to tell us that the guy had been denied boarding and the police had been called, and we could go ahead. Fortunately the flight was smooth and pleasant, but our hearts were still pounding hours after we landed.
We’ve speculated about what the guy’s deal was. Was he going to commit suicide once he got to Sacramento? Was he going to commit suicide on the plane? Was he going to commit suicide by bringing the plane down? Was there some innocent reason for what sounded like a final farewell to his loved ones just as he was boarding a commercial airliner? It’s been suggested that maybe he was sick, but he looked perfectly healthy. And perfectly ordinary: a 35-ish white guy, calm demeanor, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, one carry-on. There was absolutely nothing about him which would have drawn attention if we hadn’t happened to be standing 3 feet away from him.
Yes, I know the statistics, but I’ve now personally had two terrifying experiences, one involving the airplane and one involving the fact that you never know who your fellow passengers are. These weren’t “I need to learn calming techniques” situations. These were situations of danger, and I’m thankful for good pilots and good gate personnel. But I never want to get on another airplane.


. However, besides the redesigned doors, I think the strongest defense is that the crew and the passengers realize that times have now changed. Any threat, and people will take immediate action, I believe. They understand that the pilots can’t come back to take care of it, and the threat is from people who don’t intend to survive. It’s a different philosophy that before…which was to do everything to prevent someone from getting hurt, placate the hijackers. Now, it’s lethal force approved if necessary.