y from Port-au-Prince, to Les Cayes on the southwestern tip of Haiti. As we gazed out at the runway, I got the first glimpse of the plane that was going to transport us there, and I wasn't excited. It didn't help climbing aboard the plane to be told to leave my seat in the rear and move to the front of the aircraft for ballast. It
was unnerving to be so important to the safe operation of the aircraft. Our pilot was Jose, a veteran of the Nicaraguan Air Force, which was somewhat comforting as I was sure he had flown planes in less than stellar repair and had lived to tell about it.
I have never been a big fan of flying. I hate looking out windows of planes to see wings flapping like a bird. The propellers were so close to the body of the plane that if you stuck your hand out the window, (which you couldn't) parts of your hand would go missing.
Launching into the heavens was a little bouncy and I kept telling myself that the plane was designed to take the impacts. There was a beautiful Haitian woman sitting next to me. She kept to herself.
About 20 minutes into a 38 minute flight we were flying across some of the hills and the air got choppy. At one point the plane dropped like the roadway had ended. We hit the bottom without consequence.
When the plane fell I felt a hand on my leg. The hand squeezed the fabric covering my thigh. About 3 seconds after grabbing my pants the woman next to me pulled her hand back and blushed. She pleaded an apology. We didn't speak for the rest of the flight.
When we feel we are in danger we reach out to others whether we know them or not. Most people would agree that the saddest experiences are suffering and dying all alone. There may be great comfort in the presence of others. Maybe it might be that if we are going down, it's nice to know we are taking someone with us.
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