surreality_fan
11-16-2004, 08:08 PM
Ok, din't know if anyone wants to read this but I thought that I would share. I was thinking that it is kind of funny that I like air travel as much as I do considering I witnessed a plane crash (just a little one) as a child. However, I also had a wonderful experience for my first plane flight. So I am going to share a little of both experiences. Ironic part is both take place at the same little airport.
So here is a three part tale. Part 1 is about the airport, Part 2 is about the crash, and part 3 is about my first airflight.
The Airport (super short)
Growing up I spent a lot of time at my grandfather's house. Located in Langhorne, PA. Here there was a little airport, that mostly did private flights and helicopter rides for the kiddies. There were constantly small planes and helicopters flying over my grandfather's house. The problem with the airports location was that there was a raised cargo train track with a lot of power lines suspended over it that surrounded the airport on three sides. Pilots flying in had to often take off and land at an interesting angle depending on the wind direction. The power lines had these big yellow and orange ball things tied to them so that pilots flying in would not hit them. The airport is long gone, it's now a retirement development, but the ball things are still there.
The Crash
When I was about five, the nerf football came out. My parents were searching for one for my brother for Christmas, and left me at my grandfather's house while they shopped. So I was sitting in my grandfather's living room watching TV when there was a horrendiously loud boom and the power went out. My grandfather threw open the front door to his house (which we never used because it was literally 2 feet from a normally very busy road) and the first thing I saw was three teenage girls running down the street screaming that a plane just crashed. When looking the other way I saw a lot of flames and not much else. Apparently, the plane had missed the powerlines above the train tracks, only to hit the powerlines that ran along the street.
Meanwhile, the store that my parents were shopping in at the time also lost power (it was a major line that was hit). They immediately started trying to make their way back to my grandfather's house, but were continually stopped by road blocks. Finally they managed to explain their was about 1/4 of a mile away from my grandfather's house, when a friendly police officer told them that a building might have been hit and they couldn't drive any further. They got out of the car and walked the rest of the way to my grandfather's, now understandable distraught after the inciteful words of that wonderful policeman.
It turns out that the man piloting the plane that crashed was a smuggler, without any passangers. He was flying in a shipment of cocaine, and had decided to sample some of said product while in flight. He overdosed and had a heart-attack while approaching the airport, and the plane had no control as it hit the powerlines and then the street. He was dead well before the crash.
First Flight
About nine years later, I had developed a facination with all things to do with flying, and aircrafts. I can still name on sight several plane models from that time (particularly military jets). So as a surprise for me, my wonderful older brother, who was then living in my grandfather's old house, decided to have a friend of his who was a flight instructor take me up in his plane and give me a preliminary flight lesson. It was Feburary, and my brother's driveway was iced over, so he gave me this bogus story that he was going over to the airport to see if he could get some salt. I was obvioulsy suspcious but I went any way. We flew out of the same airport that the crash occured. I absolutely loved it. We spent a good deal of time literally flying no where. I ended up taking Tae Kwon Do instead of the flying lessons, but I still love to fly. I think I may be the only person I know that actually likes turbulance. Additionally I love taking off, would love the landings too if it didn't mean that the flight was over.
OK that's that.
Take care,
surr
So here is a three part tale. Part 1 is about the airport, Part 2 is about the crash, and part 3 is about my first airflight.
The Airport (super short)
Growing up I spent a lot of time at my grandfather's house. Located in Langhorne, PA. Here there was a little airport, that mostly did private flights and helicopter rides for the kiddies. There were constantly small planes and helicopters flying over my grandfather's house. The problem with the airports location was that there was a raised cargo train track with a lot of power lines suspended over it that surrounded the airport on three sides. Pilots flying in had to often take off and land at an interesting angle depending on the wind direction. The power lines had these big yellow and orange ball things tied to them so that pilots flying in would not hit them. The airport is long gone, it's now a retirement development, but the ball things are still there.
The Crash
When I was about five, the nerf football came out. My parents were searching for one for my brother for Christmas, and left me at my grandfather's house while they shopped. So I was sitting in my grandfather's living room watching TV when there was a horrendiously loud boom and the power went out. My grandfather threw open the front door to his house (which we never used because it was literally 2 feet from a normally very busy road) and the first thing I saw was three teenage girls running down the street screaming that a plane just crashed. When looking the other way I saw a lot of flames and not much else. Apparently, the plane had missed the powerlines above the train tracks, only to hit the powerlines that ran along the street.
Meanwhile, the store that my parents were shopping in at the time also lost power (it was a major line that was hit). They immediately started trying to make their way back to my grandfather's house, but were continually stopped by road blocks. Finally they managed to explain their was about 1/4 of a mile away from my grandfather's house, when a friendly police officer told them that a building might have been hit and they couldn't drive any further. They got out of the car and walked the rest of the way to my grandfather's, now understandable distraught after the inciteful words of that wonderful policeman.
It turns out that the man piloting the plane that crashed was a smuggler, without any passangers. He was flying in a shipment of cocaine, and had decided to sample some of said product while in flight. He overdosed and had a heart-attack while approaching the airport, and the plane had no control as it hit the powerlines and then the street. He was dead well before the crash.
First Flight
About nine years later, I had developed a facination with all things to do with flying, and aircrafts. I can still name on sight several plane models from that time (particularly military jets). So as a surprise for me, my wonderful older brother, who was then living in my grandfather's old house, decided to have a friend of his who was a flight instructor take me up in his plane and give me a preliminary flight lesson. It was Feburary, and my brother's driveway was iced over, so he gave me this bogus story that he was going over to the airport to see if he could get some salt. I was obvioulsy suspcious but I went any way. We flew out of the same airport that the crash occured. I absolutely loved it. We spent a good deal of time literally flying no where. I ended up taking Tae Kwon Do instead of the flying lessons, but I still love to fly. I think I may be the only person I know that actually likes turbulance. Additionally I love taking off, would love the landings too if it didn't mean that the flight was over.
OK that's that.
Take care,
surr