Man Of Few Words
On a flight from Wausau, Wisconsin to Chicago, I was on a small regional jet. I was talking to my co-worker in the seat across the aisle as we approached Chicago. One moment I’m looking face-to-face with him, then suddenly I was looking down at him. Right after that, I was looking up at him. We finally settled back into a normal cruising pattern, but it was a scary “What the heck just happened”? moment.
I don’t think we came close to rolling over, but it sure as heck felt that way. When we arrived at O’Hare (where I considered kissing the tarmac), a fellow passenger suggested that we’d somehow been caught in the wake of a larger jet. Sounded plausible but not terribly reassuring. The best moment occurred after the pilot brought the plane back under control.
The cabin was eerily silent, and the captain opened his microphone, cleared his throat, and said, “Sorry”. He was a man of few words, I guess.
Story credit: Reddit / DoubleNickels2020