"The spinning sun blinded her as they dropped."

Twice in my life I've had flights canceled on me as a result of mechanical failure. The first was a couple of years ago, and the second was yesterday. There's nothing intrinsically unusual about such cancellations, I don't think; I imagine that they happen all the time. Both of these incidents, however, shook me up a wee little bit. Here's why:

1) The first incident occurred as I was making my way to National Airport to hop on a flight to visit my friend Kim in Chicago. I was on the Metro, iPod in my ears, bopping merrily along to whatever was in the random rotation at the time, when the train pulled up to the airport stop. The doors opened, I stepped out, and a chill went down my spine as the notes from the next song hit my ears as soon as my foot hit the platform. The song in question was "Glow Girl" from the Who. It's about a plane crash. ("The plane is diving faster; we're getting near the ground. Nobody is screaming, no one makes a sound.") I shook it off and insisted to myself that it was pure coincidence. Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit anxious. I had over 7000 songs on my iPod--I don't know what the odds are that "Glow Girl" would appear in random rotation at that exact time, but I wouldn't take that bet.

I walked to the terminal and noticed that my flight wasn't on the screen that listed the departures. I went to the airline's counter and asked what happened. "That flight was canceled because of mechanical problems. We'll have to rebook you on a different one."

Remember that chill down my spine? It happened again. But as disturbed as I was, I got over it, got on the next flight to Chicago, and had a lovely time visiting Kim.

2) Deja vu all over again: I found that I was revisiting that same anxiety yesterday as I was sitting on Flight 5339 from Minneapolis to St. Louis, the beginning of my trip home after a weekend in Fargo, ND and Minneapolis. (Word to the wise: if you ever think that going to Fargo for a weekend in April is a good idea, think again. It was ass cold with a raw, biting wind. I almost lost my fingers pumping gas without gloves.) The plane had pulled out of the gate--maybe 100 yards--but pulled back to the jet bridge shortly thereafter. "We have a bleed air problem with the #2 engine. Safety first," the captain explained. "But it shouldn't take long; we're just waiting on a mechanic." Okay. I went back to my book--I'm currently reading the second book in the John Dos Passos trilogy "U.S.A."--and drank my airline orange juice (I think the flight attendant was looking to avoid a JetBlue-esque riot, so she placated us with beverages).

So, la la la, nearly an hour goes by, I'm reading along, and I come to a passage in the book featuring one of the characters reluctantly following her companion onto a monoprop plane where he would perform aerial tricks for her. Hm. I kept reading only with great trepidation, as I had a bad feeling about where this chapter was headed. And wouldn't you know, the character dies in a plane crash--I used the last line of the chapter for the title of this entry. And wouldn't you know, about fifteen minutes later, we were all shooed off the plane for rebooking on other flights, as the mechanical problem lingered. (Cue the theme from "The Twilight Zone.")


Now, sure, chances are that these really are just random coincidences, and that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I completely believed that, though. Perhaps some half-price Easter candy will calm my jangled nerves.