Beyond The Black Box.

Over the Christmas holiday I took a plane ride from Austin to Lubbock (and back again). The flight only lasted about an hour and ten minutes, but it felt like the longest plane trip I have ever taken. Let me explain.


About a month ago I read a wonderful book suggested by my best friend for our book club. It is called Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. In this book there is a chapter called "Beyond The Black Box" that came back to me as soon as I started boarding the plane. In case you have not read this New York Times bestseller, here is a little background on this particular chapter: A discussion of airplane disasters and the stories that the bodies of crash victims tell. This is a CSI-type chapter which truly gives the finer details of crash pathology. If you've always wondered what happens to the human brain trapped in a burning airplane, this is the chapter you will want to read.


Alright, now that you have some sort of idea of what was going through my mind as I walked down that long grey hallway towards the plane let's get on with it. I love to fly. I fly as much as I can actually. I am usually on a plane once every four or five months. I realize that is not a lot to some people, but for me, it is. Now, even though I love to fly the friendly skies I have a very particular way that I like to do it. I hate Southwest. I don't think I can stress this enough. I don't care how cheap they are, I hate them. I hate the cattle call way of doing things. I am the person that will pay the extra fifty bucks to fly any other airline just because I am obsessed with the idea of having an assigned seat. I am also one of those people that feels more comfortable in the emergency exit row. Not because there is more leg room, actually that thought is always far from my mind until the moment I sit down and realize that there is an extra foot or two. I have a security problem. I always have, I always will. If I can not be in control I feel that I need to be as close to control as possible. For some reason, in my mind, I feel that sitting in an assigned seat in the emergency exit row on an airplane gives me that control.


So, on my way to New Mexico, I flew Southwest. (The tickets were a gift.) I was all nerves. Which is funny, because I am actually a really relaxed traveler. I arrived at my gate and stood there with, what I am sure, the most stupid look on my face. I had no idea how to get from my seat through the door to the plane. There were these metal columns set up, to be honest it look like something out of a Star Trek episode. I kept watching the tv screens that were supposed to be telling me how to get in line, but they were no help. Finally, I just had to sit there and wait to see how everyone else was doing it. Now, I am not a dumb person, but this shit was very odd. Finally, I get in line and board the plane. Due to me being number 2o something in line I knew I was SOL when it came to getting a seat in the emergency exit row. My thought was to get as close a possible. So, I grab a window seat just in front. I was pissy at this point in the game, I'm not gonna lie. Mainly because the people in the row behind me had not sat there because it was a way to get out of the plane if needed, but because they wanted the leg room. These people would be the death of me if it came down to it. While watching the rest of the "cattle" come aboard the plane my mind began to wander back to that wonderful book. It states a few facts that I suddenly could not get out of my head. One in particular concerned which type of people made it out of the airplane safely if the emergency exits needed to be used. Men. Men pushed their way past women, children, and even elderly to get out of the cabin. I don't want to imagine what it would be like to be stuck in a small metal tube and the only exits are 4 small windows of opportunity. But there I was watching every person board wondering if I could get out of here if needed. Once everyone was seated and the flight attendants started their show I took a moment to look around me to see what my surroundings were. Next to me was a guy just a little taller than me and really into his iPod. I could take him. The annoying couple behind me were in their mid 50s and could be moved by purely yelling I was damn sure. No one sat in front of me and my new friend, nor did they sit across from us (this is a story all in itself). This seemed odd to me. There was only one person in the other emergency exit row, a young sporty looking dude. That is the direction I was headed if the plane was headed down.



To make my long story a little shorter, I feel that my life has been impacted by this book to the point that I will never fly an airplane the same way again. I could not focus on my new book, the overly nice flight attendant that would not let me be or the dude sitting next to me trying to talk to me about how awesome his music is. All I could think about getting off that damn plane.