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I am traveling from Hong Kong to Memphis with some work colleagues as well as my goddaughter and her family.
We are going through immigration with fancy sensor cards – you put the card in your pocket, walk up to the gate and it scans you. A display shows your boarding pass information (name, flight number and destination), and you press “yes” to confirm and go through. My goddaughter is having fun trying to see how close she can get to the gate without setting off the sensor.
Shift: I am in a hotel room with some colleagues. We are in transit – the airline is putting us up for the night. They are talking about the next leg of the trip, which apparently will be by train all the way to Memphis. I don’t see how that’s even possible, as we’re still in Asia.
“How long does the train ride take?” I ask.
“Around ten days,” someone answers.
“Well that’s a problem,” I say. “In the first place, I didn’t pack enough clothes for ten days, and even if I did, my luggage is already checked.”
“We’ll work something out,” they say.
Shift: We must have worked something out, because I am back on the airplane. For some reason the pilot is sending everyone updates via WhatsApp. At one point he informs us we have to make a detour. Later, he informs us that the GPS has malfunctioned, but that we’re still on course despite the detour.
Later, he informs us that we’re lost – the land masses and stars don’t match any known maps. I don’t panic, but I ponder what it means to be this high above the ground and have no idea where you are – to not be anywhere. But I figure it’s temporary – eventually we have to reach someplace that the pilots will recognize.
I keep drifting off, and at some point it seems as though it’s raining outside the window, and that we’re passing streetlights, though I know this by sound and by shadows, not because I’m looking out the window.
Just then the pilot’s voice comes over the PA: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have spotted debris. As required by law we’re going to fly low to examine it.”
I realize he’s talking about Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 – apparently we’ve found the wreckage.
I look out the window and see that we’re flying over water. I don't see any debris or wreckage, but I do see an expressway bridge next to us, which explains the streetlight effect. The pilot says we’re going to make a stop for fuel, and lands on the expressway. He says we’re only going to stop for 15 minutes, so if we want to stretch our legs, make it fast. We do so. The plane fuels up and we take off again.
And then I woke up.
Wake me for meals,
This is dF
We are going through immigration with fancy sensor cards – you put the card in your pocket, walk up to the gate and it scans you. A display shows your boarding pass information (name, flight number and destination), and you press “yes” to confirm and go through. My goddaughter is having fun trying to see how close she can get to the gate without setting off the sensor.
Shift: I am in a hotel room with some colleagues. We are in transit – the airline is putting us up for the night. They are talking about the next leg of the trip, which apparently will be by train all the way to Memphis. I don’t see how that’s even possible, as we’re still in Asia.
“How long does the train ride take?” I ask.
“Around ten days,” someone answers.
“Well that’s a problem,” I say. “In the first place, I didn’t pack enough clothes for ten days, and even if I did, my luggage is already checked.”
“We’ll work something out,” they say.
Shift: We must have worked something out, because I am back on the airplane. For some reason the pilot is sending everyone updates via WhatsApp. At one point he informs us we have to make a detour. Later, he informs us that the GPS has malfunctioned, but that we’re still on course despite the detour.
Later, he informs us that we’re lost – the land masses and stars don’t match any known maps. I don’t panic, but I ponder what it means to be this high above the ground and have no idea where you are – to not be anywhere. But I figure it’s temporary – eventually we have to reach someplace that the pilots will recognize.
I keep drifting off, and at some point it seems as though it’s raining outside the window, and that we’re passing streetlights, though I know this by sound and by shadows, not because I’m looking out the window.
Just then the pilot’s voice comes over the PA: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have spotted debris. As required by law we’re going to fly low to examine it.”
I realize he’s talking about Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 – apparently we’ve found the wreckage.
I look out the window and see that we’re flying over water. I don't see any debris or wreckage, but I do see an expressway bridge next to us, which explains the streetlight effect. The pilot says we’re going to make a stop for fuel, and lands on the expressway. He says we’re only going to stop for 15 minutes, so if we want to stretch our legs, make it fast. We do so. The plane fuels up and we take off again.
And then I woke up.
Wake me for meals,
This is dF
