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Written by Kyle Storey, Associate News Editor
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Thursday, 02 October 2008 |
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KYLE STOREYUNITED STATES
Seated on an Air Canada flight from Vancouver to Prince George, I realized how boring flying had become; how much we take it for granted.
We don’t give flying much more thought than our parents and grandparents did to getting on a bus.
About the only difference now between Greyhound travel and flying is the security checks.
So it was with little interest I took advantage of my window seat on a recent flight home.
Too bad, because when I did glance out the window, the scenery was amazing. About the only thing better than flying those cigars with wings is getting up in the air with a bush pilot.
So it was with boredom born of overuse that I drifted away from the magic happening below to the magic being spun by the author of my book.
Bad timing.
I should have known, something was up, when my seat-mate offered to give up the window for my aisle seat. The seat I specifically requested.
But there was something in the deer-in-the-headlights look which made me switch.
That look should have also tipped me off. This was a white-knuckle flyer.
Observation obviously isn’t my strong suit, so when my companion asked about the novel, I happily regaled him with the tale of TWA Flight 800.
Not a true story exactly, but one the author has spun from countless interviews with witnesses and law-enforcement agencies in the years since the tragedy.
You must remember.
TWA 800 went down off the east coast of the United States, killing all 230 passengers and crew bound for Italy.
This was one of the more interesting of all recent air accidents.
Interesting because of the speculation this might not have been an accident.
Conspiracy theories abound over what might have happened on that fateful night of July 17, 1996.
Everything from a terrorist attack to friendly fire from nearby military exercises, to the simplest, and most obvious -- mechanical malfunction -- have been put forward as causes of the crash.
What made this particular wreck so ripe for the conspiracy theorists was the fact a streak of light, with an orange ball at the front was seen emanating from the ocean and intersecting with the jetliner just prior to the plane’s destruction.
This visual, much like a comet in reverse, was seen by hundreds of witnesses. None of whom, according to the official cause of the crash, were believed.
So I was happily regaling my seat-mate with this information, while wholeheartedly recommending the book, when the penny dropped.
He was too polite to tell me to shut up, but was likely wishing I’d have a heart attack or be struck dumb.
I had not only managed to alienate the person sharing my space for the next 75 minutes, but terrified him as well.
Job well done.
Now at least, I could get back to my reading.
H H H
The recent Ryder Cup offered a great little story about the golf prowess of one previously little known American player.
During the telecast, the announcers mentioned southern boy J.B. Holmes was a 10-time letterman on his high school golf team. I’ve heard of dumb jocks, but 10 years to graduate from high school? Nobody could be that dumb. Besides, once he reached the age his teachers had to call him Sir, they would probably have moved him on to college.
So what’s the real story?
Turns out he started playing for his high-school team when he was in Grade 3.
Kyle Storey is a Citizen associate news editor.
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 02 October 2008 )
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