Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash

Once again I got killed at work this weekend. Worked on 1st, 2nd, and 3rd call. Ugh. But, we had a lot of good results, so it's all good. This weekend's blog-worthy story? (And yes, I know that's debatable.) Going to Mobile.

Mobile is on the Gulf Coast...about a 4-5 hour drive from Birmingham. By plane it takes about 50 minutes. By rocket, about 35 minutes. And how did we choose to travel? Rocket, baby. So, there are 4 of us going because this is a big case. We have myself, B (another coordinator), Dr. ACP, and Dr. F-word. Dr. F-word is thusly named because I have never heard anyone use that word as often in a professional environment as this guy. Which is fine...I kind of think it's hilarious. But it's definitely noticeable. Everytime he says it, it just kind of hangs in the air because people can't believe he just said it. Which kind of adds to the hilarity. Whatever. So, it's the four of us and 5 giant heavy coolers. I drive us to the airport, we unload the van on the tarmac, and I get back in the van and go park it while they load up the plane.

As I run back to the plane, I notice that Dr. ACP (who is also a pilot) is grinning like a maniac. He is just inside the door of the plane, and he's looking up at something and laughing and grinning. So I walk up next to B while watching Dr. ACP and say "Hey, what's he grinning at?" And she's smiling and laughing. "What?!?" And then I see them. The oxygen masks. Hanging down from the roof of the plane. Dr. ACP is trying to stuff them back into their little cubbie in the ceiling. "OH MY GOD WHY ARE THOSE HANGING DOWN LIKE THAT I CAN'T GET ON THAT PLANE!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT?!??" And B is just laaaaughing. She says "That's why we're laughing! Dr. ACP knocked into the ceiling with a cooler and the oxygen masks came down. He saw them come down and said oh no we better get these back in before Sam gets back or we'll never get her on the plane! We started laughing when we saw you coming cause we knew you'd freak." So, I said okay, I can deal with that. Jerks. :-p They got the O2 masks stored, we got the coolers into the plane, and boarded.

We're sitting on the runway waiting to take off. And we're in this tiny little jet. With these short little wings. And these ballast-looking things on the tips of the wings. Really, it made the plane look like some kind of rocket. Which turned out to be not-that-misleading. So we're sitting there, and Dr. F-word decides to strike up a conversation.

Dr. F-word: "So, Dr. ACP, what are those things at the tips of the wings? Is that just ballast?
Dr. ACP (in his Australian accent): "Oh, no. That's where the fuel is. And it courses through the wings as well."
Dr. F-word: "Oh. So, all the fuel is through the wings. So if we, I dunno, clipped something....the wing would in all likelihood explode?"
Dr. ACP: "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. The problem with these planes is how short the wings are."
Dr. F-word: "They are pretty short. Why is that?"
Dr. ACP: "They're more aerodynamic so the plane can go faster. The problem is, if both your engines fail, this plane glides like a house-brick."
Dr. F-word: "That's f-ing awesome."
Dr. ACP: "Oh, that reminds me. Sam, I need you to do something for me."
Me (looking pretty petrified): "Sure, Dr. ACP. What's up?"
Dr. ACP: "We're going to have to do something about these new coolers."
Me: "Why?"
Dr. ACP: "They're just wayy too big and heavy for these planes. They're a pain to get in and out and they weigh far too much."
Me (considering the 5 coolers in the back): "What do you mean they weigh too much?"
Dr. ACP: "They're too heavy. One of these times we're going to get on one of these small planes and about halfway up they're going to realize they can't handle all the weight."
Me: "Halfway up?"
Dr. ACP: "Yeah. We need new coolers. Smaller ones. Can you take care of that?"
Me (contemplating gliding like a house-brick): "Consider it done."

We finally get in the air. This plane is the loudest plane I've been in. Ever. Dr. ACP says it's because it's old and has no insulation. Whatever. We are screaming through the sky at about 550 mph (there's a speedometer and altimeter in the back...handy if you want to see what speed and altitude you're going to die at) in a glorified Pringles can. And we get to Mobile in 35 minutes. The flight went without incident, but I guess you knew that. Because honestly, I think at 550 MPH, any incident is pretty much going to kill you.

And yes, it has been suggested that I start to think rationally about my fear of flying rather than just freaking out all the time. It's even been implied that I'm too smart to act like such an idiot about this. But let me break it down for you (Tom.)

Number of degrees I hold: 2.
Number of degrees I hold in Aeronautical Engineering: 0.

Bam. :-p

I hate stupid planes.