What an inopportune time to be grounded.
Waiting for me at the end of this plane trip I was making from Melbourne across the Pacific and the United Stated was, I hoped, a beautiful school teacher from New Jersey, who I’d never met.
But at LA I’m queued for 3 hours getting through customs and miss my connection to Newark.
Instead I have been transferred to the next flight to Chicago.
We’d hardly left the ground when we were informed that a severe electrical storm had knocked out one of the two runways at Chicago Airport.
The plane dramatically changed course and began losing altitude as we entered a dark menacing cloud reaching high into the sky .
Day turned to night.
“For an eternity the plane droned on and on, swaying and lurching in broad circles like a scary ride at a theme park. The darkness outside lit up momentarily as a ball of light skidded across the wing outside my window. A voice from the cockpit announced that we’d just been struck by lightning but there’s nothing to be concerned about. Yeah, right.” (page 10 of my book)
I overheard one of the flight attendants remark that the pilot must have copped a decent jolt from the lightning strike which would have hit the cockpit first.
You’ll be pleased to know that we made it safely to Chicago, although ours was the last plane in before the airport was closed for the night. Our disgruntled lot had to sleep the night in the airport.
What did I care?
I was on my way to a romantic adventure with a woman I’d never met, living for 6 months with my friend in her luxury sixteenth floor apartment on the banks of the Hudson River across from New York City.
Yesterday my home was the old caravan in the bush, a day later I was living the life of a romantic Hollywood movie.
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