So…back to the regular scheduled Guatemala programming.
Photo #1: This is an airplane. A very small airplane that took us back
to Guatemala City after a day trip to Tikal. There were two planes for
the whole group but somehow Jeff and I drew the short straw that got us
on the small plane…the 12 seater. I have never been on an aircraft
this tiny. I pretend to be excited about the adventure. But really I'm
hyperventilating.
Photo #2: This is my view of the cockpit. Uh…I can see out the front
window. This is scary. I'd rather not be able to see the controls of
the airplane or watch the pilots kick back, put their feet up, and blow
up the inflatable co-pilot (not that this happened, but you know). This
is also me looking at the emergency pamphlet in the seat pocket. There
was no flight attendant. Not even a "Welcome, and buckle your seat
belt" from the captain. I guess if we're going down, they figure this
is a moot point.
Photo #3: This is my sister glancing back at me as we start to take
off. The a/c in the plane isn't turning on. It is getting harder to
breathe by the second. The sky is full of black clouds as we putter
down the runway, bouncing all the way. Her look seems to say, "I think
they know what they are doing. But what the heck??"
Photo #4: Not pictured.
Because this is me with my head buried into
the seat in front of me. Crying. As we take off into the dark and angry
storm clouds, the plane suddenly drops. There are a few screams…the
loudest from my other sister behind me (love you, Michele :)). We
continue to bounce around as we make the rattly ascent into the sky. I
keep thinking that once we get above the clouds, it will clear…it
will clear. To my dismay, it doesn't really ever clear up. We drop and
bounce and shake for another hour. Jeff is in the seat in front of me
reaching back to hold my hand and reassure me. I'm not buying it. I
hang on to my seat with white knuckles, music playing in my ears,
trying to find a happy place, and still crying. All the while thinking,
"What in the world am I doing? I'm a mother of 4. I'm not ready to die.
What if the pilots lose control?" You get the picture here.
Cherie=Basket case.
What Jeff really should have been doing is slapping me in the face saying "Get a hold of yourself!"
Photo #5: Happy Pilots. Happy Cherie. We are on the ground after probably one of the longest hours of my life and the bumpiest landing. I am relieved to put my feet on the pavement and still be a mother of 4. They are undoubtedly laughing as I walk by with my reddened eyes. I bet this is just typical for a normal day's flight. And at least they didn't need to use the inflatable co-pilot. 🙂
