Traveling Mercies

In August 2003 the kids and I vacationed in Hawaii. During the prior 15 years of my marriage, our family had vacationed once. Anything else resembling a vacation was usually when we would tag along to a conference or convention. In 2000, even though my marriage was deteriorating, I made up my mind that my family would not; and I began planning annual vacations. The kids and I had some prime vacations ideas, and Hawaii was at the top of our list. We planned, we saved, we negotiated a great deal, and we made it happen.

After ten days in Hawaii, our return flight from Honolulu left mid-afternoon and was scheduled to arrive in Los Angeles that evening. I believe the actual flight time was about five or six hours. We had been in the air for several hours. We had been served a meal, and an in-flight movie was playing. I was reading a book, rather than watching the movie, when the stewardess made some announcement about a lost camera. Well, I knew I hadn’t lost my camera, so I didn’t pay much attention to that announcement. Less than five minutes later she made another announcement--asking passengers to please check bags to ensure that someone had not lost a camera. I disregarded the announcement, but I noticed that the folks who were watching the movie were getting annoyed at the announcements interrupting the audio in their headphones. At least five more minutes must have passed when the movie stopped, the cabin lights came on, and the stewardess said, very sternly, “I want everyone on this plane to get up and check your bags to make sure that you have not lost a camera. This means everyone!” And, this time, I could tell by her tone that we were dealing with something more important than a lost camera.

All three of us had cameras of some sort—underwater, disposable, digital—so I got up to check the bags (even though I knew the cameras were there) and found my camera right where I had packed it. The kids were sitting a few rows up, so I motioned for them to check their bags as well, and we all confirmed that we had our cameras. This exercise went on for a few minutes until everyone on the plane, it seemed, checked their bags.

Passengers were starting to whisper and there was a defined tension in the air. That’s the first time I heard someone say the word “bomb,” and it got my attention.

It seemed like a lifetime before the next announcement, but when the stewardess finally started her next announcement, she had our undivided attention. She reported that no one had claimed the camera, and it had been found on the plane after takeoff. She said, “This causes us great concern. The pilot will be speaking with you in a few moments.”

While we waited to hear from the pilot, a few stewardesses collected all the blankets and pillows and took them to the back of the plane. (My seat was approximately 10 rows from the back, so I could hear a lot of activity back there—and a lot of whispering.) The best I could ascertain, some type of emergency plan was being implemented. Meanwhile, other stewardesses came down each row to make sure that families were seated together. The folks beside me knew that I had two children on board, and they were gathering their personal items—preparing to move—before the stewardess even made it to our row. It only took a few minutes, and our game of musical chairs was complete.

The pilot explained the situation to us very candidly. All airlines had been made aware of heightened terrorists threats in the recent weeks. I think he even said, "As you may have heard on the news...." Well, we hadn't heard anything on the news because we had been on vacation for ten days, so this really was news to me. One threat included a small explosive device that could be activated via any electronic device, like a disposable camera. This explosive device could automatically be activated when the plane reached a certain altitude and detonate on descent. Because no one had claimed the “lost camera” there was no way of knowing whether it was simply a lost camera or an explosive device. At this time we were approximately two hours from LAX or moments from death.

The stewardesses did a great job of going row-by-row to answer any questions from the passengers. They were calm and professional, but there was also an air of concern.

So what do you do when you know you could be living your last hour. Of course, I prayed, but it wasn’t a rocking-back-and-forth-dear-Lord-spare-me kind of prayer. Ironically, even though I was concerned—especially for my babies—I was remarkably calm. (I guess that’s why He’s called The Prince of Peace.) I remember I basically said, “God, I am yours, you know my heart, and you know the number of my days. You know where I am in the middle of the air, hovering over a great big ocean. I am asking for your protection, especially for my children. Keep them safe and do not let them be afraid. Help all of us to trust in you—especially since that’s all we’ve got to hold on to right now. And let me be a witness to anyone here who might not know you. Amen.”

I didn’t want to get upset; I thought that would upset my children as well as others. After praying this prayer quietly to myself, I then leaned over and asked the kids if they would pray with me. I basically prayed the same prayer substituting “our” for “I” and “us” for “them.”

You could hear passengers whispering, but the movie was done for the flight—out billed by our own unscripted real-life drama. I wondered whether I should call my mom or let the kids call their dad; I remembered how people cherished those sky phone calls that they received on 9/11 from their loved ones. But, I was really afraid that if I made such a call, I would lose control, I would choke up, I would cry, and I just felt like it was very important (for everyone) that I maintain my composure and not needlessly heighten the fears of the children. I also looked around, and no one else was making calls, so I decided not to as well.

The pilot made a few announcements about what would happen when we landed; I liked his optimism of “when,” and not “if.” At first he said we would go straight to the terminal and remain on the plane while the federal agents boarded the plane; later that plan was changed and we were instructed to leave the plane as quickly as possible when we got to the gate. It was the first time I ever remember that we weren’t told to “stay seated until the plane has come to a stop.” One time we were told we would exit through the emergency chutes, but later that was changed to exiting through the front door. I’m certain there was a lot of activity on the ground at LAX and a plan was being developed for every scenario. I didn’t mind that the plans were changing. I wanted them to develop the best plan possible and just let me know my part in that plan.

All air travel into and out of LAX was stopped, awaiting our arrival. If the “camera” hadn’t detonated during our descent, perhaps it was supposed to do so during the jolt of landing so that the terrorists could make a spectacular display of carnage on the tarmac. At least, that was one theory.

As we approached the runway, there were flashing lights, fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances for as far as we could see. You could also see that the entire terminal had been cleared. That plane taxied to the gate faster than even I thought was safe, and when the doors opened, we were all ready for the quick exit.

All passengers from our flight were ushered to a secured area for identification and questioning. Our wing of the airport terminal was like a ghost town—except for law enforcement, fire, and rescue. Federal agents and a bomb squad boarded the plane. After about an hour, an officer told us that the “lost camera” turned out to be a “lost camera” indeed. In addition to dismantling it, they had been in contact with the crew in Honolulu and confirmed that a “clean sweep” of the plane had not occurred prior to takeoff. The “clean sweep” is the procedure where they search for lost items, but also ensure that nothing is on the plane that doesn’t belong there.

The kids and I headed to another terminal to catch our next flight. Fortunately we had about a two-hour wait. The kids seemed okay; and I seemed okay. We boarded our next flight as if nothing had happened (although I did do my own “clean sweep” of my area of the plane before takeoff). We survived the bomb scare and had another great story to add to all the others about our Hawaii vacation.

I am reminded of this story as I prepare to leave for Greece tomorrow. This is my first European trip and my first international trip. Needless to say, I am so excited about visiting this beautiful place that I have only seen in pictures. But the excitement is tinged by the reminder that there are evil cowards in the world who use innocent victims to promote their agenda. I do not desire to be one of those victims (seriously, who would?); but, if I let these cowards dictate my passions, then am I not already their victim?

Should some evil befall me, I will miss this life and possibly regret that so many dreams were left undone; but my dreams pale in comparison to God’s plan and His perfect timing. My children know that I love them; I could not have ordered two greater kids. They are smart, kind-hearted, hard-working young adults who make me smile at just the thought of them. And the circle of friends and family that surround me makes me one of the richest people in the world. The only thing better than this life is the next; and while I am balanced between the two, I am going to Greece. God speed!