Those flying machines could take a lot, though, and my respect for them grew not out of blind following, but from experiences when they proved themselves over and over.
I transferred bases down to DFW when I got married and did a lot of flying in wild Spring weather. Those storms in the Spring always made afternoon departures a bit sporty but it was just a way of life to work around them just like the first ten minutes in or out of the mountains is always bumpy.
One late afternoon, the clouds were building and storms loomed all along my garden path to Atlanta. We just couldn’t get to Atlanta at my seniority without stopping off in Jackson and Shreveport on the way. Fact of life. That meant we were going to be keeping it pretty low and spending a good part of the trip descending through clouds to land. We were on our rock-solid B727 with our Ace military-trained flight-deck crew and we were set. This was back when we would avoid thunderstorms, of course, but we would flirt with them a whole lot closer than we do today.
The ride got pretty bumpy as we descended into Shreveport and it was dark out so the whole cabin was lighting up with lightening flashes and you could hear the thunder. I was alone on the First Class double jumpseat facing my passengers, sitting adjacent to the entry door with a space next to me. Everyone was strapped in and a little anxious. Suddenly there was a loud BOOM, like an explosion. Honestly at first I thought something had exploded in the cargo hold as there had also been recent terrorist activity. Simultaneously, there was an iridescent flash of white light that circled the entry door, then streaked across the floor and exited the far side of the cabin. The whole cabin lit up. While the light show was going on, I was blown from the fuselage side of the jumpseat, across the jumpseat and off onto the floor where I hung by my shoulder harness until I realized just how hot the floor was right there. I levitated off that floor like I was possessed! All the time wishing I had not worn a skirt that day (the things that go through your mind in a split second!)
All of this happened simultaneously and took less than 2 seconds. Then, as they say, it was over before we knew what hit us.
Fortunately, the pilots knew immediately that we had been hit by lightening and began a descent. We lost pressure as the seal on the door was broken. We got down below 10,000 feet quickly and did not need to use our masks, even though folks held on to them when they dropped like they were a lifeline. We landed without incident and that was the end of our tour for the day as the aircraft needed a little work.
Delay.
Everyone got vouchers to stay in a hotel and hopefully for clean underwear and a good story to tell. The plane held up like a champ! I now had a clear understanding of the ability to survive a lightening strike and what it feels like in my toolbox. I did not feel the need to repeat that lesson again (although I would to a lesser extent over the years of course…) and my confidence grew.
I had a lot more to learn.
St. Elmo’s Fire, Cockpit of commercial jet
Whitefish Dog and Home 