"Red" Eye Flight

"Ground Control to Major Tom, Commencing Countdown Engines On, Check Ignition and may God's love be with you...."

I sang to myself while waiting in line to board the over-booked Boeing 777 that seated over 300 on our non-stop flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg. People were frantic and impatient, wanting to get on to ensure that their seat was empty, and then there was the issue of trying to find overhead space for carry-ons. My seat was in row 54 of 57, so I was near the end of the line for boarding. Which is one thing I will never understand why they don't board the back of the plane first, seems like common sense, but I'm sure they have their reasons.

When I finally approach my row, I see a jolly looking man in his sixties with a gray beard, wearing denim shorts, a denim button-up short sleeved shirt with a few buttons open at the top where salt and pepper chest hair spilled out, and a safari hat. Sean Connery was to Indiana Jones as this guy was to Crocodile Dundee. He sat next to the window with an empty seat between him and the hefty man (I guessed early 40's) with a nice smile who sat next to the aisle. After 10 minutes of trying to find any open overhead bin for my carry-on, I squish between the two men. The older man next to the window introduced himself as "Red," in a deep raspy voice with a tint of liquor on his breath. Red was from a small town in Illinois and he and his son, who sat on my other side, were also headed to South Africa for the first time on a mission – to hunt... I asked if they would like to sit next to each other so they could talk but they both quickly declined. "Nah, have to spend the next 10 days with him, we don't need to talk," said the son with a laugh. I found it a little funny that they purposely booked those seats, and would rather have a random stranger sit between them, than either of them have to sit in the middle. But I didn't mind, they seemed nice.

The pilot came over the speaker before takeoff mentioning that they would need to restart the one engine. Me and everyone else who knew nothing about Boeing 777's, eyes widened at the vague message. Red's well-educated son leaned over and said that this was a two engine jet and they usually only use one engine to move the plane while its grounded. But if one of the two engines did go out while flying that this plane was designed to be able to fly with just one engine.
Then Red leaned over and said "How far does one engine get ya? All the way to the scene of the crash!" He busted out in a cackle so loud that half the plane turned around to see what was the matter.
"Oh Red" I laughed.

Most of the 17 hour flight is spent sleeping since we boarded at night and the inside of the cabin is kept dark, with all windows closed, as we fly into the lit sky going the counter direction of the earth's rotation and gaining 7 hours of day light. Each seat was equipped with it's own TV and hundreds of movies, TV shows, and games to choose from. Naturally, I watched The Lion King and sang to "Hakuna Matata" figuring that Red and his son were watching and had a complete change of heart regarding their hunting safari after seeing how silly/cute Timone and Pumba can be.

When flying for an extended amount of time, you have the privilege to witness strangers in their most natural state: unconsciousness. There is nothing to hide and not a more honest way to judge witness someone whether its from little moans, soft sighs or breaths, or like the guy who sat two seats away sawing logs louder than I think I've ever heard anyone snore, making me very glad that I brought headphones and sleeping pills.

There is also a general consensus of hospitality while flying (at least there was with Red and his son who were very polite and always checking how I was doing) of making sure your neighbors are as comfortable as they can possibly be while in the most uncomfortable situation that you could ever imagine of being squished into eachother's space, forced to sleep sitting up, all while letting strangers have complete control of your life at 40,000 ft. above sea level and thousands of miles from home. Like herded cattle, we sit patiently, cooperatively, uncomfortably, and united with one mission in mind: to safely arrive at our destination. There really isn't more of a stressful situation that I can think of than this. Hence, serving drinks on the flight to ease the tension. Red sipped scotch and water and his son a Heineken, while I settled for water, it being a church mission and all (obviously, not a Catholic church ;))

Through every little wave of turbulence the outside self says "Be cool, be cool. No big deal, just a little turbulence." While your inside self says "OH MY GOD! THIS IS IT! WE'RE GOING DOWN!!!"
Then through some of the worst bumpy and jolty turbulence when fear is no longer observable because its been going on for so long, comes the 5 stages of grief.

Denial: There is no way that God is going to let me and everyone else die in a plane crash on our way to help less fortunate people in Africa. No way!! Impossible!!
Anger: G$D DAMMIT God! I never even got to see Italy!!!
Negotiation: Well at least if I'm going to die people will remember that it was because I was doing something nice and not something stupid like drowning while trying to swim drunk across a river to another party boat like nearly happened last summer...
Depression: I never got to tell Dolly goodbye. She'll think I abandoned her and don't love her :'(
Acceptance: I totally imagine my funeral at this point (don't act like you've never done it) and the hundreds, no wait, thousands of people who will come and weep and mourn at the passing of such a remarkable woman. Someone says "Wendi would've wanted us to celebrate her life, not be saddened." Someone else cries out "But we can't help but be sad, she was so loved, how will we go on without her beautiful smile, mediocre humor, and borderline inappropriateness!?" The entire church stadium (they had to move the funeral to Kinnick Stadium because there were so many people) begins to sob outrageously, then Willie Nelson comes out on stage and sings "Angel Flying to Close to the Ground,""Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," ending with "Blue Skies Smiling at Me,"and at that moment the overcast day clears up instantly and the sun comes out at which point a bald eagle flies over the stadium and drops an egg that lands on the 50 yard line, cracks open, and inside is a t-shirt with a picture of me standing next to a group of wolves howling at a moon with an American flag on it. Then a golf cart drives around the stadium and shoots these t-shirts into the stands and there is a standing ovation. The ceremony is followed by a tailgate concert inside the stadium featuring Willie, Mumford & Sons, and Alabama. Brats are grilled, hot wing are catered from The Vine, and my favorite beer, "Pete's Strawberry Blonde" is imported for the event. All of the Hawkeye players and coaches are in attendance to honor my memory and College Game Day is there to broadcast the event, where Kirk Herbstreit stands next to a bronze statue of me (that will later be placed at Kinnick, the Iowa State Capitol building, or in front of the courthouse in my hometown of Greenfield. There will be much debate over where it should reside before a final decision is made to share the statue and move it every 3 years). Donations are taken and sent to the children in Africa that I never made it there to help and a foundation is created to fully fund every animal shelter and close all puppy mills.

Then the captain comes over the speaker and says there is clear skies and it will be two hours before we land. People begin to open the windows and let sunlight into the cabin that had been dark nearly the entire flight. The flight attendants serve our final meal and Red takes one bite of his African hot pocket seasoned with cumin and curry and spits it out. "I won't be able to sleep for a week if I eat this spicy crap." Then he asks for another scotch and water and offers me the window seat so I can look out.

Not sure if I was just starving the whole time or if this was delicious but I ate mine and all of Red's. Weird spicy vegetarian hot pocket thing on the left that was really good, fresh fruit, and chickpea salad.

Ah!!! Africa!! We made it! I stare out the window for a long, long, long time before I ever see any sign of civilization. It was relieving when I finally saw a road because for quite some time it looked as if our jet had turned into a rocket ship overnight and taken us to Mars.

Entering Africa!

"Here's my headphones if you wanna watch Puss and Boots," said Red as I sleepily pressed my head to the window, with a zombie-like stare out into the foreign world. I look up to the screen in front of me where Red had been seated and sure enough Puss and Boots was playing. I laughed a little and told him I was good. I liked Red and think we were on a level of mutual understanding that if it was ok for me to watch and sing to The Lion King, then gosh darnit he was going to enjoy a little Puss and Boots.

We arrived in Johannesburg on schedule and it was already sunset when we landed. Losing an entire day to flying truly did make it feel like we were in another world. As we exited the plane, I spotted my team and Red spotted an African man holding a sign that read, "Red," just like the word embroidered with red thread on the top of his carry-on. We both looked at eachother, both knowing that we were going our separate ways and with our goodbye we'd likely never meet again. I don't know how to explain it but I really felt a connection with Red and his son, though I honestly didn't know anything about them except that they were very nice Midwestern folks heading to Africa to hunt. I'd had hours worth of conversation with people on flights, people in bars, hell, even some family members and felt less of a connection than I did with them. I think maybe he reminded me of my dad some and he actually had mentioned, very briefly under his breath, like he didn't want to talk about it but got a kick out of the fact, that his estranged daughter's name was also Wendi and she lived in Iowa.

"Bye Red!" I said.
"Well, bye there little lady. Good luck there on your mission." We were both carrying luggage and heading in opposite directions but both stopped for a second to see if we should hug. (Some advice: If you ever feel like you should maybe hug, just do it.) I, unfortunately, kept my cool and slowly moved away first.
"Good luck with your mission too!" I smiled and laughed, and so did he.
"Be safe there little lady, take care," said his kind raspy voice and I wished him the same as we went our separate ways.

Out of all of the tons of hugs I gave in Africa, I still wish Red would've been one of them...