There are no words to describe the sound a DC-10 makes while falling out of the sky. I remember the sound, but struggle to find the word. Deafening, perhaps? Roaring? What sound would 286 tons of steel make while plummeting to the earth?

The sound was familiar. I’m a disaster junkie. I genuinely enjoy curling up on the couch and watching chaos unfold. Natural disasters, end of the world type stuff, and I won’t snub my nose at a good zombie invasion. I’m trying to recall the movie where I had heard that sound before…my mind is blank.

I noticed the faintest smell of burnt wiring before I saw the burst of light in my peripheral vision. My first thought was an aneurysm- I’m somewhat of a hypochondriac. We had just reached our cruising altitude of some 30,000 feet when the Captain’s voice filled the stuffy cabin.

“Ladies and gentleman, as you can see we have turned the seat belt signs back on. We are heading into a storm system and there may be a bit of turbulence as we try to get on top of it.”

The attendants were still up serving drinks. I needed a shot of something but had no idea where my photo I.D. had ended up. I had seen three countries in the last eighteen hours and by the time I boarded my last flight at JFK I barely knew my name.

The flash of light. The roar. The plane is falling. My head is thrown against the back of my seat; I’m paralyzed from the neck up. Oddly, my legs are beginning to float upward from my seat. I’m weightless from the waist down. I’m stretching as far as I can, trying to reach the yellow oxygen mask flying about in front of me, the mask that was the color of sunshine.

I hear screaming. I realize my mouth is open and I am the one screaming, my throat is raw. The Captain is yelling something over the intercom, but his voice is drowned out by the roar of the crashing plane that I am on. The beverage cart is tumbling end over end toward the cockpit, and the flight attendant who had been driving it had landed against the wall separating the coach passengers from the more affluent, the ones who were served the steaming towels at the conclusion of an international flight.

I had only started flying a year ago. My first flight had been to Europe, Germany, where I hiked the countryside, toured castles and had become a passionate lover of pastries and dark German beers. Now I was headed back to the Midwest, back home to live with my parents. As the plane was falling I wondered if I would ever have another adventure. Would I have children?

The British man in uniform next to me was handsome. He smelled of pine trees in the summer, when they’re wet with fresh rain. He was kind enough to hold my hand while I was screaming “shit, shit, shit!” My fingernails drew blood from his skin, the color of dark chocolate. He seemed oblivious as his knuckles clung white to the arm-rests of his own seat.

Just the month before I watched the video clip over and over again of United flight 232 that had crashed in Iowa. I remember the fireball as the plane began to skid from the runway, and how in later news footage there were random items scattered on the ground. A child’s teddy bear, one side of it charred from the fire, sanitary napkins which had been purged from a woman’s bag, backpacks, and clothing that had been vomited from luggage on impact.

I wondered where my body would be found. Would I ever make love again? Had I even made love at this point? The mouths of overhead compartments were flung open and bags began their descent toward the cockpit. The contents of the coach cabin were all headed south, toward the ground, where we were all headed at approximately 480 miles per hour. I was going to die today. I could’ve sold my passport to the men with the almond-shaped eyes who approached me offering “Fifty dollah, fifty dollah for yo passport, Ma’am.” I wouldn’t need my passport again. Maybe I should’ve joined the Hare Krishnas. They’d looked so peaceful in their saffron robes. But they are celibate vegetarians, which would’ve assured that I would, not only, never make love, but I would also never get to eat another cheeseburger and no more bacon for breakfast. What kind of life would that be?

I wondered where we would plunge into the earth. We’d taken off from New York City less than a half an hour before. Maybe a field in Amish country in rural Pennsylvania? How many others would have the same end date on their headstones? I’d never been high. I hadn’t read enough books or seen enough sunsets.

The older couple one row up and to my right aren’t screaming. They are holding hands, she had taken hold of his arm and their eyes are closed. I wonder if they are praying. I wondered if I would ever smell freshly bloomed roses again. Did everyone I loved know they were loved by me?

Just as suddenly as the descent had begun, the roar began to quiet and the plane began to right itself. There is still a bitter smoke in the air. Now I am able to inhale and my head comes up, slowly. My seat mate is trying to wrangle his hand loose from my grip. I apologize for the moon shaped cuts I’ve left behind. He smiles and pats my hand. He exhales. The beads of sweat begin their journey down each side of his face.

“Ladies and gentleman, please remain in your seats with your seat belts on. We have encountered an event that led to brief mechanical failure which triggered our rapid descent. We will be making an emergency landing at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport in Cleveland, Ohio. Again, please remain in your seats. Emergency crews are awaiting our arrival and are prepared to care for any injuries that might have occurred.”

My legs were like rubber bands as I made my way to the gate. Attendants were sorting through bags and belongings that had landed at the front of the McDonnell Douglas DC-10.

I found a payphone. (Clearly, this statement dates me.)

“Mom, I’m in Cleveland. The plane was hit by lightning. It almost crashed.”

“What?”

“The plane got hit by lightning. Will you come and get me please?”

“Oh, I doubt it was that bad. I’m not driving to Cleveland. We’ll see you at the airport.”

“Mom, please?”

“No.”

I returned to the pile of purged belongings and began digging, searching for my backpack.

I boarded my next flight and had a new seat mate. I wondered if this one would be kind enough to hold my hand in the event of an emergency.