Private Sky - (our Easter trip)

It was Easter Sunday and we were on our way back to St. Louis after a
weekend of frolicking in the sun and water, eating (once with friend,
Sylvia), visiting with Canadians who took us to a wonderful water show
and playing games after hours. We did not go parasailing. That was one of
the first suggestions Dan made and, before we headed for the beach, he
brought out photos of his recent parasail adventure. "If I take the
pictures along," he said, "this ride is half price." Not our kind of
bargain, I'm afraid. The girls and I had explored a gigantic Good Will
shop on the way to the apartment. We got Florida clothes. Dan doesn’t
like to shop so did the Pfeffernuss thing and guarded the car.

When our plane backed away from the gate at Fort Meyers, I was watching
the smaller ground traffic to make sure we weren't going to run over a
luggage truck and knock off the end of the wing as had happened with
Dan's plane in St. Louis many months ago. We had avoided all the toys
but, then, we stopped.

Across the field, I saw fire trucks speeding down a runway. First, the
big ones. Then, a small truck. And, finally, an ambulance sped down the
field. We waited. While we waited, I looked around the part of the field
I could see from my small window. Across the field, I saw a large, white
building. I strained to read the building designation but failed. After
moments, I knew only that the first word began with a "P" and that the
second word was, undoubtedly, "Sky." No amount of squinting could bring
that sign into focus.

"We have backed away from the gate," the pilot told us. This, I knew.
Only later, did I realize that this is the place many people had found
themselves stranded for hours in recent years. The pilot, of course, knew
this delay might be cause for a buildup to grumbling. Our pilot went on
to tell us that there had been a medical emergency on the field and that
we would be on our way after a short delay. It was, as he had said, a
short delay and, soon, we were in motion again. As we backed beyond
airport paraphernalia and before we turned, I saw a small white plane, a
group of people, civilian and professional, and a stretcher covered with
a white sheet.

This morning, I saw that same large, white building on the television
screen. This time, I could read the legend. Private Sky, it read. "Of
course," I thought. "That's what it said."

I stopped to listen, wondering what was happening at the Fort Meyers
airport. The story was read as if it had just happened but I knew, when I
heard the story, that it had happened yesterday. A pilot was dead and a
passenger with some flight experience had jumped into the seat. The Air
Traffic Controller had called a certified flight instructor for this type of
airplane and connected the passenger/pilot to the instructor. While we
waited, the two professionals had managed to talk the inexperienced pilot
to a safe landing.

The plane had been landed safely. All passengers survived.
And, we were there!