| Current mood: |  scared |
And then there was the flight home
Tuesday morning we got up at 5am to shower and get me to the airport. Now, I'm not a great flyer, though I have mostly gotten over the anxiety problems that plagued me for a few years. I knew I was at least on a jet, so that made me feel better. When it was time to board, I noticed we were going outside, which I didn't think was common practice for jets in the US. The airplane was indeed a jet, even if it was a very tiny commuter jet with just 13 rows of 1 and 2. I settled in to my window seat and began to distract myself from the fact I was about to take off on an airplane.
Right as the door closed, the pilot got on the loudspeaker and announced that there was a slight problem with the altimeter and we would have to fly below 10,000 feet instead of the normal 30,000. Due to this we would be speed restricted AND had to fly a much less direct route over places not at all in between the departure and arrival cities. This is when I began to panic. I began to talk to the man sitting next to me for distraction, debating in my head if I should get off the plane or not. As the flight attendant, Jen, mentioned, she wouldn't be on the plane if she didn't think it was safe. So I stayed.
It was scary at the time, but in retrospect not so bad. We flew over some very pretty scenery and were low enough to see it quite well. I wasn't so thrilled with the landing when seconds before the wheels touched the plane was still at an angle (some of us wondered if we should lean over to help) but landed fine. And in the end the flight did not take much longer than originally planned.
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