A fateful day

The man stepped onto the plane. He was sweating, not profusely, but small beads of sweat were noticeable on his upper lip and forehead.

The flight attendant took his flight ticket, inspected it, looked up, and smiled at him in an artificially saccharine way. Just like she was trained to do.

“Welcome on board Flight 305,” she said, gesturing to the back of the plane. He nodded a terse thank you and moved to his seat. The flight attendant was already busy greeting the next passenger in the same rehearsed way. 

He had asked for a window seat, at the very back of the cabin. Thankfully the seat next to him was vacant. 

He slid his briefcase under the seat in front of him and settled into his seat. He removed his sunglasses and placed them inside his jacket pocket. 

“Can I place your briefcase in the overhead bin?” asked a new attendant. More artificial cheer.

“No, thank you,” he answered, without smiling. He was nervous. He didn’t like flying at the best of times. 

“Sir, it really is more secure in the overhead bin,” she said, still smiling.

“I would prefer it near me, please,” he said, getting rather agitated. 

“I understand. If you would prefer, the captain has special storage for…” 

“I said no. Thank you,” he said, firmer this time, but not too loud. He didn’t want to cause a scene.

The attendant’s smile slipped momentarily, but she regained her composure quickly. 

“Alright,” she answered, straightening her back and walking down the aisle toward the galley at the front of the plane. 

The man in the seat across the aisle glanced at him from the corner of his eye, raising his eyebrow at this stranger’s perceived rudeness. Certainly the flight attendant did not deserve his ire. After all, she was just doing her job. 

Well, he didn’t care. After this flight is over, he will never see any of these people again- not his fellow passengers, not the captain, not the flight attendant. They could think of him what they wanted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the loudspeaker clicked into life, “this is your captain speaking. We will be departing shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts. Cabin crew, prepare for take-off.”

He could hear the engine pick up speed outside the window. His sweating was becoming worse. 

Taking his handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he mopped his brow and upper lip, before returning the kerchief to his pocket again. He could see the ground crew working quickly to seal the doors from the outside.

The cabin crew was positioned at various spots throughout the cabin, demonstrating the safety equipment as the public address system droned on about floatation devices and emergency exits. He wasn’t paying attention.

He could feel sick anticipation rise up in his throat. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. Soon they would be airborne and the feeling would have dissipated. 

A flight attendant walked by, towards the aft of the aircraft. He raised his hand to gain her attention. It worked. 

“Yes, sir?” she said, beaming a smile at him. 

“May I please have a scotch and soda before we take off?”

She frowned slightly. The airplane had started moving towards the runway, ready for take-off.

“Sir, we’re just about to take off. I would gladly serve you after we are airborne and the captain had turned off the seatbelt signs,” she said.

“Please. I’m a nervous flyer. It would help settle my nerves,” he pleaded. This solicited another raised eyebrow from the man on the opposite side of the aisle.

She hurried off without a word. She returned a few moments later with the drink.

She placed the drink on the tray table in front of him.

“I will return in a few minutes to collect the glass. Tray tables must be stored for takeoff.” 

True to her word, she returned for his empty glass. As she took the glass, he handed her a note, folded closed to hide the message. 

The air hostess folded it again and moved to place the note in her pocket.

“Miss, I think you’d better read that,” he said to her. 

She unfolded the note and read it silently. Her eyes grew wide with fright.

“I think you’d better sit next to me, don’t you?” he said.

She sat down, still clutching the empty glass in her hand. 

“Buckle up,” he said, smiling. She fastened her seatbelt without a word.

Her colleagues frowned as they saw her seated in a passenger seat, rather than the jumpseats reserved for cabin crew. As another flight attendant slowed to inevitably ask why she was seated here, she just shook her head. Her colleague moved on without a word.

The airplane hurtled down the runway. He closed his eyes, not daring to look out of the window or at the flight attendant next to him. 

The friction of the wheels of tarmac disappeared as the airplane left the runway. The eerie quiet that always followed take-off was especially oppressive today. 

Once the airplane had leveled off, the captain turned the public address system back on. The ping made the flight attendant jump.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain William Scott…” he introduced himself. 

He wasn’t very interested in who the captain was.

“What’s your name?” he asked, turning toward the flight attendant. 

“Florence,” she replied breathlessly. Her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Please, don’t cry, Florence. This will soon be over,” he said. She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Poor girl. 

“Can I see it?” she asked, once she was more composed.

He reached forward for his briefcase. He opened it a crack- just large enough for Florence to peer inside. He slammed the briefcase shut again. 

A ping announced that it was now safe to remove seatbelts.

“Better go tell the captain,” he said. Florence removed her seatbelt and hurried to the cockpit. She returned moments later. He had removed the sunglasses from his pocket and was wearing them again.

“Sir, he said they will make arrangements,” she said, before hurrying to the back of the aircraft.

Twenty minutes later, the public address system pinged back into life.

“Folks, this is your captain speaking again. Due to technical difficulties, our arrival at our destination may be delayed,” he said. 

“Miss,” he said, as a flight attendant passed. She paused and gave a nervous smile.

“Yes, sir?”

“May I please have another scotch and soda?” he asked.

She returned moments later with the drink. He had placed the money for this drink as well as the previous drink on the tray table next to him. The flight attendant picked up the money.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “You may keep the change.”

Two hours later, the plane still hadn’t landed.

“What in the damned hell is going on?” demanded the man across the aisle to no one in particular, looking toward the front of the plane. The cockpit doors remained firmly shut. The rest of the passengers were looking both nervous and agitated at the same time. 

He looked at his watch. 17:20. 

Florence approached his seat.

“Sir, everything is in order,” she whispered.

“Thank you. Please tell the captain we can land. Ask him to taxi to the northeast corner of the airport and to have a bus waiting for the passengers,” he said. She turned to leave.

“One last thing, Florence,” he said. She turned to look at him. “Please ask all passengers to close the window blinds before landing.”

The captain announced that they were ready to land as the flight attendants walked through the cabin, ensuring the window blinds were shut. 

The plane landed. The disgruntled passengers collected their belongings and filed off the plane. 

Everyone was kept seated.

“I have never been on a worse flight in my life,” complained one passenger. 

“How can a 30-minute flight take two hours?” complained another. The flight attendants apologised profusely to each complainant, never once dropping their trained smiles. 

After a couple of minutes, the flight attendant who served him his drink earlier approached his seat with two canvas sacks. She opened the sacks to reveal their contents.

“Thank you. All seems in order. The passengers may disembark,” he said.

Once the last passenger had left, he turned to the crew, who had assembled near the cockpit door.

“Thank you for all your help. Don’t worry. Your ordeal ends now,” he said.  “Everyone except the captain, co-pilot, flight engineer, and one flight attendant may leave.”

Not waiting to be told twice, the cabin crew gathered their belongings and left the plane. 

He turned to the captain. 

“Once re-fueling has taken place, head south towards Mexico City. Keep the speed steady enough to avoid stalling- round about 100 knots. Fly at an altitude of 3000 metres. Nothing more, nothing less. Keep the cabin unpressurised. Do not retract the landing gear after takeoff and keep the wing flaps at 15 degrees.”

A tense nod from the captain. 

“We will be flying about 1000 miles below our specified flight configuration. At that altitude, we will need to refuel again before we reach Mexico City,” said the copilot.

He hadn’t considered that. 

“Where do you suggest we refuel?” he asked. 

“Maybe somewhere in Arizona? Or Nevada?”

“I always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Let’s refuel in Nevada.”

The plans were communicated to the ground crew.

The copilot, pilot, and flight engineer took their positions in the cockpit again, ready for take-off. 

He returned to the seat he was sitting in earlier.

“I think you’d better join the captain in the cockpit,” he said to the flight attendant, shortly after takeoff. She complied.

He looked at his watch. 20:15.

He walked to the back and lowered the aft staircase. He removed one parachute from the sack that was delivered earlier and strapped himself in. He secured the other sack firmly to the front of his chest, under his shirt, to prevent the contents from flying out of the sack. He took the briefcase in his hand.

He gave a final salute and jumped from the plane into an uncertain fate.

Except his fate wasn’t that uncertain. D.B. Cooper, as the press dubbed him, survived the jump. I know because “D.B Cooper” was my grandfather. This is a secret only my family knows.