***I'd like to dedicate this post to Sun Country Airlines. Mechanical issues happen. Luckily this situation ended the best way it could, with us landing safely. I have always been a champion for our hometown airliner but their response to this situation has been disappointing, to put it mildly. So thank-you, Sun Country Airlines, for taking a terrifying situation and making it worse. I didn't think that was possible.***

February 22, 2015

It started normal enough--a weekend spent preparing for a week of fun in the sun. A late afternoon flight that would get us to Ft. Myers around 930pm, Florida time. I wasn't crazy about flying at night, I don't know why it made me uncomfortable. Regardless, I wasn't someone who hated to fly, but I would get nervous. Plus I had a little more stress than normal because it wasn't just my husband and I going on the airplane, it was all of us. In fact, the week leading up to our trip I started having dreams of plane crashes. I even tweeted this:

So, I was just a little on edge. 

We arrived at the airport and made it through check-in and security with no issues. Then we had some delays. We didn't know what was going on, there were no announcements at that point. I decided to try to wrangle my crazy kids and started reading some "Pete the Cat" books. The next thing I knew, kids started joining from all around. 

While reading there was an announcement that due to a "mechanical issue" we were delayed and would start boarding as soon as possible.

Not really something you want to hear before you board a plane with your family.

The delay didn't last much longer, in fact I was a little confused because shortly after that announcement they started the pre-boarding process. Assuming they solved the mechanical issues, we gathered our bags and got set to board.

The flight started out smooth enough. Some turbulence, nothing major. We set up the kids with their tablets playing Dora (for E) and Super Why (for B). Marc was with E in the row ahead of B and me. Once we were in flight, the kids ate the dinner I packed for them and Marc and I contemplated a drink to toast the beginning of a much-needed trip. 

A few minutes later, there was a little drop and the seatbelt light came on. I figured it was turbulence since that's typically the reason those lights go back on mid-flight, at least in my limited experience. 

Then the oxygen masks dropped down. 

When my husband and I talked about the experience later, we realized we had the same thought. There must have been a mechanical issue that caused the oxygen masks to drop. Because we didn't need them. Right?

That's when we started hearing shouting from flight attendants and I think an announcement to get the masks on. I really don't know if there was an official announcement considering they were having problems with the intercom system. There's certainly a chance they made an announcement but it was not heard by us. Regardless, my memories of those few moments are fuzzy. 

When was the last time you flew that you actually paid attention to the safety directions? Like really listened. Even though I was on a flight with my kids and was nervous, I barely listened. I was focused on my kids and making sure they were taken care of, so as to not disturb the other passengers. 

Because that was my biggest concern. That my kids would behave.

The only thing I really remembered from the safety directions was that you should always put the mask on yourself first, then help any children or others that are having problems. So I did that. But I had no idea how to make it tighter (I know how to now, don't you worry). And the bag wasn't inflating--I didn't realize that was normal. Then I turned to B. 

He had no interest in wearing the mask. He started crying. Screaming. I tried reasoning. I tried begging. Then I just forced it. I held it on his face as he screamed and tried to fight his way out of my grip. 

I remember Marc turning around at one point telling B it was ok. I don't think we made eye contact. I don't really remember anything except B. I was totally and completely focused on B and my husband was totally and completely focused on E. 

In my memory the plane was silent. Except for the screams of B, I heard nothing else. I could feel us dropping, but it felt somewhat controlled. I never looked outside the window, I just maintained my hold on B all the while telling him it was almost done. 

What was almost done, I didn't know. 

How often are there survivors of airplane crashes? If you are on a flight and the oxygen masks are deployed, are your odds of something bad happening catapulted into the "likely" category? I didn't think about these things at the time. To be honest in the middle of everything I was too scared to think at all. It wasn't like my life flashed in front of my eyes or anything like that. I remember having one fleeting thought of not letting B go no matter what.

This went on for about five to ten minutes, at least that's our best guess. It felt like an eternity. Then there was an announcement that we could take off our masks. Just before the announcement I looked around the plane a little. I made eye contact with an elderly woman sitting across the aisle from us. All I saw was fear--I imagine she saw the same thing reflected in my eyes. I turned around and looked between our seats to the row behind us and I saw a mom clutching her screaming daughter. That's when the noise slowly came back and I heard her screams. I heard a baby crying. I heard muffled sobs. But it was still relatively quiet. 

After the announcement I slowly took the mask off, still not sure I was hearing correctly. I noticed I was shaking a little, but still talking normal to B.

"See, we're all done. You did great! It's all ok now. It's all ok."

The pilot then gave an announcement saying that the cabin lost pressure and that's why the oxygen masks dropped. He had to get us to a safe altitude, 10000 feet, and now we could breath without them. But we would be making an emergency landing in St. Louis. 

And that is when all the noise really started. There were more babies screaming/crying, people crying, everybody talking. The flight attendants were "trying" to comfort us, but were also alarming us more. We were told to make sure all bags were secure, it could be a rough landing. And then there was one flight attendant who was walking up the aisle talking to us, constantly repeating that she was smelling something burning and she was sure that was what was happening. That there was a fire.

We were still in flight, remember. As of that time the information I had was that it was going to be a rough landing and there was a fire. And we were STILL IN THE AIR. 

Later we found out the burning smell was just a mechanical smell that occurs when the oxygen masks deploy. Not a fire. Would have been useful information for that flight attendant to have. 

A couple of rows ahead of me a man was saying how he kept watching outside and how fast we were dropping. The gentleman sitting next to me turned to me and said, "Ok. It's ok now. We're gonna land in St. Louis and be ok."

That was when I felt myself start to slip. Slip from the control I had from the moment the emergency started. I had spent all that time focused on B that I hadn't had time to think about anything else. Adrenaline and shock are funny things. It helps you to stay focused and strong in high-stress situations. But when the adrenaline starts to go away, the emotions are no longer held back.

Marc turned around and we made eye contact for the 1st time. I felt myself welling up. The shaking went from a little unsteadiness to uncontrollable. Marc gripped my hand, told me he loved me and turned back around. We still had work to do. We had to focus on the kids. We still had to get through a landing.

I regained my composure and prepared for the landing. As we approached the airport I started hearing people mention how fast we were going in. The gentleman next to me told me to brace. I grabbed B and held him as tightly as I could.

Again, my memory is fuzzy around the edges. I remember a slightly more bumpy landing, but nothing horrible. I remember applause. But I just wanted off. Remember, there was a possibility of a FIRE somewhere on the aircraft. 

We were stuck on the plane for a long time. Time is funny in these situations because I wasn't really monitoring my watch or anything. And I imagine everything felt much longer than it actually was. But we were on that plane for longer than any of us wanted. We landed at the airport in St. Louis that apparently closes down at 7pm on Sundays because we were told we had a gate but no gate operator. They had gotten in contact with someone at their home and they were on their way in. But it would be a bit. Plus, there was the issue of security and figuring out what was next. 

St. Louis is not a hub for Sun Country Airlines and as such they had no other plane to transfer us to. Once we got a gate operator we were told we could get off the plane but needed to stay in terminal A. Another plane was en route from Minneapolis with an estimated arrival time of 1015pm (they really need to work on their estimates, it was at least an hour and half after that time that a new plane arrived). Once it arrived we would board and be on our way to Ft. Myers. 

It was during the time on the plane, as we waited to get off, that I called my mom. I had texted her that we made an emergency landing in St. Louis and that we were ok, but I would call as soon as I could.

Probably should have waited on that call. Because as soon as I started talking to her the tears came. All the tears. What is it about moms in those situations? I suddenly became vulnerable and just wanted to be comforted. Also, for someone who loves words--both in the spoken and written variety--I found myself at a loss. I was disoriented and unable to form a coherent thought. I was still in shock.

She listened but calmly reminded me that I needed to be strong for the kids. We would talk later and everything was ok. But I had to stay in control because the kids needed to see me as being ok. We didn't want to scare them.

I pulled myself together and played with B as we waited to get off the airplane. And of course now he was fascinated with the air masks and wanted to play with them. Because yes, they were still out, hanging in everybody's face. A constant reminder of what we had all just experienced, as though we needed that. 

We finally got off the plane and made terminal A our home for the next few hours. 

How fitting this was the name of a bar in the airport & how annoying that the bar was closed. If there was ever a time for a drink, this was it.

While we were waiting, Marc spoke to another passenger who happened to be a Sun Country employee who was traveling with his family on vacation. He had spoken to the crew and found out there was a leak in the water tank and it was causing the back of the airplane to freeze. So the opposite of a fire was happening, our plane was freezing. It was not comforting.

By the time the next plane arrived we were so focused on getting to Ft. Myers knowing there were no other options that any fear I had was stuffed below the surface. We put one foot in front of the other and got on the new plane. I spent the majority of the 2nd flight like this--more for me than B. 

We landed around 330am, Florida time. We departed the plane to a form letter expressing their apologies for our experience and to call for more information. Yes, we called. And their response has been lacking ever since. More on that in a bit. 

The next day we talked to Marc's parents about the experience. There were no tears, it was just matter of fact. Later, when Marc and I were alone and we talked about it together for the first time, I felt my body start to weaken and the wall start to crumble. I stopped it because I wanted to enjoy our vacation. And we still needed to get on another plane, to return home. I compartmentalized my stress and fear. I didn't have time to deal with it then. 

It wasn't until we were home and the bags were unpacked and Marc was at the grocery store and I was alone with the kids that the wall came tumbling down. It was the first time I had stopped all week. I sat down for a moment and I broke down. I had to leave the room because I didn't want to upset my kids.

All the adrenaline was gone. There was nothing else to push forward to. We were home. It was quiet. And it was in that quiet that all the feelings came flooding back--along with extra thoughts. 

What could have happened?

How close were we to dying?

How would my mom feel if we were all gone?

If I knew it was the end, what would I have said to Marc? To my kids? Would I have tried to comfort them? Could I have comforted them?

Are we dead right now and this is some in-between place (a la " The Sixth Sense")?

Ok, that last one was when I was trying to pull myself out of my downward spiral and needed to laugh. I didn't really think I was Bruce Willis. But the memories of what happened and visions of the oxygen masks dropping just kept circling in my head. I kept seeing them over and over.

The good news is that the kids are fine. I don't think B really has much of a memory of it. On the flight from St. Louis to Ft. Myers, E asked when we would breath through the masks again, to her that was a normal part of a flight. On the flight home from Ft. Myers she asked when we'd get a break and go on another plane. That was the extent of her talking about the experience. I think she'll remember it, but in a distant way, just as something that happened once. It will be later, when she hears us talk about it that I'm sure her memory of it will shift slightly, like memories do, and perhaps she'll say there was some fear because that's what she'll hear from our stories. But I'm happy that she didn't really feel that fear.

For now I'm still dealing with the aftermath. In some ways it feels silly to still feel so affected, considering nothing bad happened and we all landed safely. But I don't think you can put a timetable on dealing with trauma, on how long it will take you to stop having flashbacks, or knowing when the nightmares will stop. I know I'll fly again but I don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable doing so.

And I don't know if I'll ever fly Sun Country Airlines again. I've never been so disappointed with a response from a company about an issue. Granted, I've never had this big of an issue, which makes it all the more unbelievable that this is what we were told when we finally got a call back from a customer service rep--which only happened after I called them out on Twitter and was told to resubmit a form we had already sent in. 

The rep informed us that the $200 voucher that was offered to us was an act of goodwill and was not something they were obligated to do. If we wanted more information or more compensation (I was looking for a refund of the amount we paid--not free airfare for life) we should write a letter to the CEO. 

Contacting the CEO via a letter is the next step after speaking with a customer service rep? Seems like a leap. I wonder how long after he receives my letter I can expect a response?

But that's fine. If that's their protocol, then that's what we'll do. Mr. Fredericksen, please be on the look-out for a certified letter coming your way. My contact information will be attached and I look forward to your response.

*****

Yesterday I was angry. That anger put me on an emotional downward spiral. Today I'm making a choice. 

Today I am grateful. I'm grateful we made it out of the scariest moment of our lives with nothing more than some emotional scars. It could have been so much worse. Today I will see the smiles of my children and hear their laughter and join them. 

I will smile and laugh. 

Because I am alive and that deserves some smiles, right?

xo Sara