How A Stranger On A Plane Gave Me Hope For The Future
Sometimes an angel shows up just when you need him
My first “big girl” job was as an auditor for the State of California. Just out of grad school, I was honored to snag what I thought was a glamorous job as a forensic auditor, finding evidence of fraud and collusion, and catching bad guys.
The reality was far less appealing and mostly involved the review of bank statements, purchase requisitions, and travel records. The job was really just to make sure that public programs ran correctly and followed accounting rules. We did catch a few bad guys, but it wasn’t a regular thing and far less “Hollywood” than I had anticipated.
However, the job did have one exciting feature — travel. I got to go wherever a state office was located. During my tenure as an auditor I got to travel from one end of the state to the other, temporarily living in cities like San Diego and San Fransisco, meeting new people, eating new food, and generally having a good time. For a single girl in her twenties, it was perfect!
The only drawback was the required amount of air travel. Snagging a plum assignment in a distant city meant flying there from Sacramento on Monday morning, and flying back on Friday evening.
I hated airplanes, even back then.
My first travel assignment was to Los Angeles for an audit of the LA Unified School District. It was a high profile audit in which the state suspected district leaders of stealing public funds. The assignment was scheduled to last eight weeks, which meant two months’ worth of flying back and forth between Los Angeles and Sacramento.
It turned out to be the best assignment of my tenure with the Auditor’s Office. I loved the team I worked with, and we actually did find enough evidence to put two really bad guys away for quite a while. Even the traveling was fun.
Well, fun until we had to fly home one evening on a flight that had been delayed due to a horrible storm in central California.
The weather was cold and windy that evening as the storm approached Southern California, and I had worked myself into a panicked snit as we boarded the plane. We’d been told that if the storm became a problem, we’d have to fly around it, and to expect delays. My panic became outright terror and I knew, without being told, that I had turned sheet white.
To my horror, it was a small plane, with two seats on either side. I took an aisle seat on the left side of the plane, next to a man in the window seat. I could see the wind whipping the palm trees around outside, so I braced myself for ninety minutes of pure hell.
The plane rocked and creaked as we took off, but once in the air, it flew fairly smoothly. I allowed myself to relax a bit and look around.
The stranger to my left introduced himself as Dan and shook my hand. He looked to be about forty, with startling blue eyes and boyish blond hair. From the way he looked at me, I could tell that nothing bothered the guy. His casual manner felt like a tonic.
As we chatted, I learned that he had served in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot. I gathered that he flew rescue missions, maybe medical evacuations. He’d been out of the service for years and had started a company flying commercial helicopters with a buddy of his. In fact, he was flying to Sacramento to meet up with his business partner.
About ten minutes after our conversation started, the plane began knocking us around. Not horribly, not yet, but enough for the panic to return. Dan, relaxed as ever, explained that differences in air temperature caused the bumpiness as the plane flew. Pilots understood this and could easily adjust for it. Nothing to worry about, just physics.
But then the plane took a huge hit and we lost altitude quickly, the way you might see in the movies. I just knew I was going to die and grabbed the seat arm with so much force, my hands turned white.
“You’re not going to die in an airplane.”
The voice seemed to come from inside my head, but it was Dan’s mouth moving. He said it again.
“You’re not going to die in an airplane.”
His voice, clear and calm, carried authority. The look on his face told me that he wasn’t kidding and that I should believe him.
I chose to believe him.
I don’t remember much after that. The rest of the flight went rather smoothly and Dan bought a glass of wine for each of us to get us through the end of the flight. He felt like an old friend. I can’t remember our conversation, but I remember how easy it was to talk to him.
After the plane landed, he congratulated me for getting through it. Then we exited the plane together.
Once in the airport, I met up with my team and headed for the baggage area. I thought Dan was just behind me and I turned to say goodbye but he was gone. He didn’t show up to claim any bags either. In those days, the Sacramento airport was tiny. I should have been able to find him easily, but he had disappeared. A little disappointed, I got my bags, found my car in the lot and drove home.
Who was Dan? He was probably twenty years older than I was at the time, which means that he’d be an old man now. I find myself thinking about him at odd times. I think about his quiet confidence, his easy conversation. I do wonder, was he an angel? Did fate or the universe put him in the seat next to me?
I still hate flying. But now, every time I board a plane, I remember Dan’s words. You are not going to die in an airplane.
I still believe him.
