Floatation Device

I never flew at all until the early 80’s. There were a lot of reasons for that. One was that I didn’t want to. The others were as follows; aviophobia, acrophobia, anthropophobia, xenophobia and to some degree claustrophobia with a touch of cleithrophobia. My first flight was a white-knuckles experience. Not that the flight was rough or even uncomfortable. The January air from South Carolina to Kansas was smooth as a decaf Venti soy latte with whip and caramel drizzles. The brilliant blue winter sky with its wandering puffy clouds should have been a picturesque jaunt as we flew the dark inner edge of space. The subtle roar of the powerful jets soothed the weary travels into a listless sedation; many of them truly quiescent. I of course, had the sleepless look of someone plunging into a forty-thousand foot abyss. Except for being scared spitless, I was relaxed. It was just that I was holding on to the armrests with a blood-choking clench that would rival that of King Kong. With the grip I had, there was no way that plane could get out of the sky until I let go. We would still be up there except for the sweet newly wed couple sitting next to me who talked me into letting us land so they could get on with their first year of marriage.

For me the most intriguing part of the flight was actually before the flight began. As we prepared for departure three well trained stewardesses (make that steward-persons) took the isle to help us find the exits and let us all know how to buckle our seatbelts. I was an avid seatbelt wearer while driving so I got it. The end goes into the buckle and you lift to release. And while eyeing the nearest exit I sized up the three people in charge of opening up my door. I gave them a nod of approval. We would all follow the lighted markers in the floor and file calmly out. Then we learned about the oxygen masks that would automatically fall from the compartment overhead in case we should loose cabin pressure. We must help ourselves in an act of altruistic responsibility before we help someone else get their mask on. This was getting serious. “I can’t breathe already”, I though. But some respite from my anxiety came just in time. Mercifully my attention was redirected to the speaker whose disembodied voice announced that, “in the case of a water landing” our seat cushion could be used as a “floatation devise”. What a relief! I didn’t even know planes could land on the water. I re-read the instructions in the flap of the seat in front of me to be sure I had this all down. The worst thing about a fall was the landing. This was really about survival.

I have flown many times since, both domestically and abroad, and have seen the illustration countless times in different languages. In every airline the information is nearly exactly the same and the demonstration is quite similar. Whether you fly once or once a week you will be subjected to the liturgic litany of emergency survival. Interestingly few if any pay attention to this life-saving message. I have observed the captive audience during the take off prep “schpeel”. The disinterested are sleeping, talking, or reading. Perhaps they know it all or are message-hardened by the simplistic repetition. Conceivably it may seem the information is useless and no one is going to survive so what’s the point. Perchance they may believe they have a better plan; their own well thought out method of escape.

It strikes me how remarkably alike the response to Truth tends to be. For many of the same reasons people abandon the reasonableness of God’s plan of escape for their own. Having heard it over and again they may turn a deaf ear to the Truth. Though planes rarely crash we all are leaving this life. The ratio is one to one and we all will face the Truth Giver. Our own method of self-salvation will be in every respect inadequate no mater how well we have devised it. The Pluralism and Syncretism of post-modern society is simply a band-aid for the conscience. When it comes to escape and survival, it is best to read the instruction manual and follow it.

How do you feel about this. Or better yet... what do you think?

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Steven Blanton