The best…
The attendant at the counter announced the boarding process was about to begin. At 11:35 PM, we formed a line and boarded a Boeing 757 headed to Puerto Rico, the shining star of the Caribbean. The flight was scheduled to take three hours and twenty-five minutes.
I located my assigned seat, a window seat above the jet’s left wing. I put my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment and my small personal item under the seat in front of me. After that, I sat down, closed my window shield, and fastened my seatbelt. I prefer to stay grounded, so flying is not my preferred mode of transportation. However, sometimes it is necessary. I will keep my seatbelt on during the flight and not use the restroom until I arrive.
Flight attendants assisted passengers in finding their seats as more people walked down the aisle.
A worried lady in her mid-70s approached me, holding a Rosary, and started praying aloud.
My mind went into fight or flight mode, frantically searching for ideas to assist her.
First, I attempted to identify the cause of her distress.
“Excuse me, lady, are you all right?”
She responded, with tears in her eyes.
” How can I be all right? I’m scared! It is almost midnight, and it is dark out there. How can the pilot know the way to our destination?”
Tears down her cheeks, she continued saying.
” The last time a flew was approximately fifty years ago. It was early afternoon on a bright, sunny day. The pilot could see the way with no difficulty. But, look out that window…”
She was pointing at the opened window next to the seat in front of mine.
“Once we depart, will there be illumination so he can find the way? I don’t think so…”
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Armed with my fear of flight and the necessity to calm her down and avoid a miserable almost four hours ahead of me, I tried to answer her question by telling her about control towers.
Autopilot, computers, and modern jets…
But nothing I said gave her peace.
The blinking light at the wingtip across the plane suddenly caught my attention. I opened my window shield and pointed it out while asking her.
“Lady, can you see that blinking light at the end of the wing?”
She responded.
“Yes, what about it”?
I asked again, pointing across the plane to the other wingtip blinking light.
“Can you see that flashing light at the end of the other wing?”
She responded affirmatively.
I touched her shoulder and made eye contact before speaking directly to her.
” Those blinking lights will mark the way to our destination. As long as the pilot keeps the plane between them, we are on track”.
She glanced at the lights once more, gasping in astonishment. She then placed her hand on my shoulder, holding the Rosary, and used her other hand to wipe away her tears.
“So, that’s how they do it?”
During the remainder of the flight, she kept praying for herself and, now and then, checked the two blinking lights.
Once we arrived, while waiting for my luggage, I felt something on my left shoulder and turned to see.
It was the same lady with a broad, beautiful smile of happiness.
“Our pilot was outstanding. He consistently maintained the aircraft perfectly aligned between the two lights...
