Every Friday I dig into the archives and dust off an old post. If you haven’t read it, it’s new to you!
Last week I found myself on a Delta flight. Not “found myself” in an Eastern mysticism type thing, but…well, you get the picture.
We’d been delayed at the gate (page 42 in the Delta manual), then finally pulled away and began the taxiing process.
We were taxiing, people.
Which is why it was all the more disturbing for the plane to suddenly slow down to a more normal meandering-plane-on-a-runway speed. The pilot came on the intercom and said, “Folks, maintenance needs to take care of a quick issue, so we’re just going to find a spot and pull over on the side of the road.”
That’s number eight or nine on the top ten things I don’t ever want to hear my pilot say. (The first is, “DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT ALL THESE BUTTONS DO?!?”) It’s not a deal-breaker, but it’s enough to give me pause.
And speaking of pause, that’s what we did. On the runway. As other planes went around us (“Don’t mind us! We’re just waiting for a tow! Or a new plane!”).