After driving to Tulsa and leaving off my friend there, I flew back to California. It was on the flight from Dallas that I got the adventure I didn’t get on the road trip.
We were late in pushing back from the gate because there was a technical glitch in the cockpit that needed investigating and fixing.
We finally got clearance for take-off. We were strapped in and ready. The engines were revved up and we flew down the runway, but then the pilot slammed on the brakes. He revved up again, we gathered speed, and he slammed on the brakes again.
At that point I was going to raise my hand and say I wanted off the flight.
The captain aborted the flight and we taxied back to the gate where we sat for another half hour as a tech worked on the indicator light that insisted on blinking its beady little head.
I was grateful our captain wasn’t taking any chances with the flight, so that calmed me down.
The third attempt at take-off was successful since I’m writing this. The flight itself was uneventful and the landing was smooth without any hard bounces.
I thanked the captain as I got off for another day of life. He was madly writing notes on a clipboard.
Calvin says, “Woa. If I had been under the seat I’d had bayed my head off.”