When the Oceans Rise..

Yesterday was a typical get-on-the-plane-strap-in-get-my-kindle-out sort of start to the trip. Headed to Miami for a trade show that no one wants to go to or really feels is necessary. But the job requires my presence and like the good soldier I am, I packed up and flew to Miami.

It was a completely full flight. I was towards the back of the plane in 22C and simply trying to get comfortable. The pilot came on and told us that the flight had been delayed because the plane (they call it equipment) originally scheduled had been diverted to another trip. The one we were on had come in from Puerto Rico and had to cleaned and cleared by "security".  I checked the little seat pouch In front of me for a packet of drugs but only found magazines. The pilot said he would further explain the delay once we were airborne. Okay, that bothered me a little. I'm reminded of my oldest daughter's wedding dress buying trip where my impression was that she and her mother and her college friends would pick out a selection, then  I would go and help in the final decision. My bride called me later in the afternoon and said, "Guess what we did today!" Voice full of excitement. "What did you do today?"..."We bought a wedding dress!" Really. "How much was it?" Long silence. "Why don't we talk about it when I get home?" Hmmm. "Why don't we talk about it now?" I felt this conversation should have happened with the pilot. Why don't we talk about it before this big, shiny, flying machine takes to the skies?

So off we went from Dallas to Miami. Somewhere over Louisiana the pilot told us that the water was contaminated on the plane and had to drained and plugged up, the toilets would not work. I decided to drink my bottled water, thank you very much. Then he proceeded to tell that as we cleared the airspace over New Orleans and headed out over the gulf, we might experience some mild to moderate "chop"  I'm used to this. I fly over 100,000 miles a year. A little chop is no big deal, even more serious chop I can handle. Sure enough, we hit some chop, I opened the shade over the window and realized there was no land in sight.

For the first time that I can remember I freaked a little. For some reason I (apparently) have a deep-seated dread of an airplane falling out of the sky into the ocean. Over land, no problem, over water, problem. It made me so uneasy I couldn't sit still. So I got as if to go to the toilet that doesn't work and kind of strolled the aisle. Moderate chop and high anxiety (get it? 36,000 ft..high anxiety) resulted in sweaty palms, nervous stomach, and not being able to sit still.

So I did the only thing I knew to do..pray and try to think about anything else. Here is where I wonder about God's sense of humor. The first words that popped into my head were the song's lyrics,
When the oceans rise and thunders roar,
I will follow you above the storm
Father you are over all the flood..

Why wouldn't He put Peace, Perfect Peace into my head? I think he does that to us who are functional skeptics. Very funny. I get it. Now get us back over terra firma before I lose my lunch.

The end of the story is that we landed safe and sound. I considered having a serious conversation with the pilot on my way out, but was afraid they would hold me over and make me fly back with them.

Anyway, all's well that ends well.

Godspeed to all the nervous fliers out there. Okay, now I get it.
Don