On a plane
August 8, 2012 (Wednesday)
In 1988, the church secretarial staff and I attended a conference at the old Baptist Sunday School Board in Nashville to learn how to use computers and, specifically, to learn how to use the Baptist software. On our return trip, at the airport terminal in Nashville, before takeoff, we met the members of a well-known band, still popular today, nearly 25 years later. I sat behind two of the band members on the flight back to Texas.
I could hear the conversation between a band member and the stranger in the seat next to him, in the row directly in front of me. There was an empty seat nearby and the stranger told the band member that no one was going to sit there (the plane was still in the process of loading passengers). “No one will sit in that seat. If someone sits there, the plane will crash!” In response, the band member began praying fervently, “Don’t let anyone sit there. Don’t let anyone sit there. Please, oh please, don’t let anyone sit there.”
Well, the seats of the plane were almost all taken and the likelihood of a passenger in that particular seat seemed probable. The stranger repeated several times his prediction that no one would sit there, because, if someone did sit there, the plan would crash. The band member repeated his prayers. I sat there dumfounded that the row in front of me was experiencing such trauma.
The cabin doors closed, the engines whined, the “fasten seat belts” sign flashed on, the bell tones sounded with the “no smoking” lights, and the plane began taxiing toward the runway. All through the flight home, the seat of doom refused permission to would-be occupants.
Finally, we landed safely, and the famous band members deplaned along with all the rest of us, including the messenger of gloom and doom, who went his way. I’ve grown older and somewhat more inclined to speak my mind since then. If it were to happen today, I’d speak to the flight attendant, who no doubt would tell the captain, who in turn would probably notify an Air Marshall, who would take some kind of action. It’s not nice to mess with Homeland Security.
Every time I hear that band playing these days, it’s a religious experience, because I can still hear one of them praying. What’s that? Did I pray, too? Well..I might have muttered, “Amen” or something like that.