The Precariously Candid Account of a Plane Crash Sole Survivor

It’s a strange thing to wonder whether or not you’ve lost consciousness. It’s even stranger to be sure that you didn’t when you actually did. There’s also the joy of feeling unscathed, accompanied by the fear of feeling a little too numb. Your body may scream danger while your mind covers it up. The pilots must be pretty fucking good at their job, I thought. But when I looked past my own body—at the shadow of what once surrounded me—I realized that I couldn’t possibly have survived. I must be one of the unlucky few to see myself die twice.

I made it to the airport at 6:30 a.m. for my 7:00 a.m. flight. I remember wanting to kill security for stopping me as if they were the ones who silenced my alarm. Thoughts of murder that early in the morning are never the sign of a good day. The time ahead was sure to test me for more than a day, however. The trip was out West to visit my grandmother on her deathbed. She had been suffering a long time—seventy-two years, in fact—and now she was going to die. With my non-career as a writer, I had all the time in the world to see her. She paid for the ticket—and why not? She had lots of money and now needed none.

A stewardess with a wonderful smile ushered me aboard the plane. It was people like her that made me remember the rope in my closet. That face with that job would take her to more places in a month than I would see in a lifetime. Money would never even be an issue for her. She would meet interesting people and eat interesting food. Meeting, eating, and seating. She would laugh and love her way through the world, all without ever thinking to write a word of it down—she didn’t need to.

“How long is the flight?” I asked the smiling stewardess.

“Six hours.”

I looked forward to a long, undisturbed sleep.

I found my place at the back of the plane. I rejoiced at the empty seat beside me. I had the legroom of the aisle, no children to kick the back of my chair, and nobody to take the armrest beside me. As I contemplated taking the window seat for takeoff, a young woman came out of the bathroom and sat in it. We smiled courteously at each other, and she focused out the window. She was gorgeous. Her hair flowed down to her butt, and her perfume countered the stink of the rest of the meat-tube. The most beautiful part was the sight of her chest. “The Black Keys,” was written on her shirt. My favorite band—probably my favorite thing in general.

Maybe I won’t be sleeping after all.

“Favorite album?” I asked.

She turned from the window, confused. I motioned to her shirt, and she got it.

“Oh, um… Definitely Brothers ”

“‘Sinister Kid’?”

“‘Everlasting Light.’”

“Nice.”

It was more than nice. My day, my future, all of the sudden looked ever-brighter. We could name one child Dan and the other Patrick.

“Mark,” I said, extending my hand.

“Vanessa.”

The smiling stewardess rudely interrupted us. I felt bad for her now. She may have a pretty face and the ability to fly, but she doesn’t know Vanessa.

I ordered a drink, and Vanessa asked for water. She stayed hydrated; I could get behind a girl like that.

Vanessa and I started with small talk. I had never been so interested in someone’s life. I had also rarely had someone seem equally interested in mine.

“What about you? Are you in school or working?” she asked.

“Neither, actually. I’m a writer. It’s the best of both worlds: no education and no money, just wavering passion and darkening dreams.”

She laughed. I loved. This is how you met people. This was how life was supposed to be. It was all coming together.

“So, are you flying across the sea for some big book deal? Or are you chasing a story? Are you a journalist?”

“No story. Nothing interesting ever happens around me. That’s why I have to make stuff up.”

I had never made a dime off anything I wrote. All I had was encouragement from a couple friends and a hundred rejections from everyone else. I was becoming the kind of bitter that only a sweet girl could remedy. Vanessa watched intently as workers finished fueling the plane.

“So, what sort of adventure are you on?” she asked.

“I’m going to see my grandma. She’s in a bad way.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s tough.”

I smiled and she smiled back. Lots of smiles that morning.

“It’s so nice that you’re flying so far to see her.”

I had Vanessa in my pocket. She was the one.

“It’s what we do for love. I promised I’d be there to hold her hand. I won’t let her be alone.”

She touched my shoulder with the kindest look on her face.

The plane detached from the airport. The seat belt sign dinged on. Vanessa fumbled with hers. Her hands were subtly shaking.

“Need help?” I asked.

It finally clicked. She took a breath.

“First time?”

“What gave it away?”

I laughed. The plane began moving.

“Feel free to grab my hand if you get scared,” I said.

“I think I’d be too embarrassed if you knew how sweaty my hands are.”

We chuckled together. We had a real connection. She took another breath as the plane made its way out onto the runway. She was mumbling to herself. I wanted to take her mind off things.

“I lied to you, Vanessa.”

“What?”

“I am chasing a story.”

“Oh yeah?” Her voice was trembling.

“My grandma has lived a long life. That’s why I’m going to see her. I want her to have someone to really listen to her final thoughts and all her stories. I want to write a novella full of her ideas and experiences. I’m gonna get it privately printed and give copies to everyone in the family. My children and their children will know about their great and double great grandma. She really is a great woman.”

“That’s beautiful,” said Vanessa.

We made it to the final stretch before the flight. Suddenly, a lone old woman in the middle aisle seat next to us stood up.

“Excuse me,” said the old woman. She was talking to Vanessa. “I feel so bad asking, but… Well, I was hoping for a window seat. I thought I booked it.”

Vanessa was so nice. I could feel the pull of her heartstrings.

“We can switch back after,” the old woman continued. “It’s just that it’s my first time flying, and I’ve always wanted to look out the window during takeoff.”

And you waited until now to tell us this?

“Ma’am,” yelled the stewardess, “you have to sit!”

She just couldn’t say no…

“Of course,” said Vanessa, getting up out of her seat.

“Ma’am!” yelled the stewardess again.

Vanessa and the old woman switched seats.

“Oh thank you, dear!”

I looked over at Vanessa as we started to pick up speed. I wanted to be there to hold her. I wouldn’t even get a sweaty hand. The old woman eclipsed the window with her head during takeoff. Her hair was white and curly just like my grandmother’s.

We passed through the clouds. The seat belt light turned off. Vanessa was still heaving like a woman in labor. The old bag next to me was having the time of her life. Meanwhile, my grandmother was lying in a bed on the ground, thinking about the time she was somebody’s Vanessa. Once a rich and beautiful girl, now my grandmother was just rich. She didn’t spend a cent on better dying conditions. I suppose it didn’t matter—the hospital had the best drugs. I’ve always thought I’d hurl myself out of a helicopter when my body starts to break down. At least my final moments would be free and exciting. I’m terrified of climbing a ladder, but once I get high enough, the fear falls away. Perhaps the only fear greater than death is injury. Death weighed heavy on my mind as I studied every wrinkle and skin tag on the old woman’s neck. She smelled like death, looked like it, too.

I turned to Vanessa. “Hey, we made it!”

With the pressure in our ears, I don’t know if she heard me, but she gave me a shaky thumbs-up, and her breathing gradually slowed. Vanessa was going to be alright.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“I’ve never seen the sun hit the tops of clouds before!” said the old woman.

“Beautiful,” I said, nodding with a half-smile.

She went straight back to the window. “I think I’d like to live up here,” she mumbled.

I don’t know whether we end up in the sky or under the ground, but I knew she would find out sooner than me. Have your window now, lady, but you can’t be a burden on the youth forever.

My grandmother was never a burden. She was a selfless woman who took me on trips, bought me candy, and even offered to pay for college should I choose to go at 25. My grandmother had a heart of gold. I couldn’t understand why the universe was taking her and not the fart in the wind next to me.

I waited and waited for Vanessa and the fart to switch back, but someone just never got tired of all the shiny clouds. It must have been the happiest the old woman ever was. I think I heard her giggle once.

“Feel better?” I leaned over and asked Vanessa.

She leaned in herself. “I read that the landing is more dangerous than the takeoff,” she whispered.

“What?”

She repeated herself, accidentally yelling this time. A few people gave her a look, and she got embarrassed. She was so cute.

Maybe I should switch with the guy next to her. And I tried to think of an excuse to do so. But my focus was interrupted by a thunderous bump. Vanessa immediately freaked out. I had taken many flights but never felt a plane shake like that.

“Don’t worry,” I said to the frightened girl, “bumps happen.”

“That’s a regular occurrence!?” Vanessa replied.

I stepped out into the aisle and kneeled, putting one arm of Vanessa’s armrest.

“Look,” I said, “I promised my grandma that I would see her, and I don’t break promises to family, which means—”

I was knocked to the floor by the smiling stewardess and her stupid cart.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn't see you there! Why are you sitting in the aisle?”

Before I could respond, the plane rumbled again. Vanessa screeched in fear.

“It’s fine,” I said to Vanessa.

“It doesn't sound fine!”

A lighter bump rocked the cabin again. The seat belt light came back on. My poor Vanessa was losing it. I wanted to reassure her, but…

“Sir,” said the stewardess, “you have to get back in your seat.”

I looked at Vanessa. “Hey…”

“Now, please,” said the stewardess.

I got back in my chair and clicked in my seat belt. An even bigger bump than the first one hit. The stewardess raced off with her cart, leaving her smile behind. It looked like Vanessa was going to have a heart attack. I scanned around for someone who looked like a doctor. Then a voice spoke to us from above:

“Ladies and gentleman, as you may have noticed, we’ve run into some unexpected turbulence. Please remain securely fastened in your seat for the time being. Thank you.”

So said the captain, and many flinched at his use of the word “unexpected.” Vanessa was long past flinching. Another bump and she’ll start—

The plane dropped in altitude, and our hearts floated for a moment. Vanessa began hyperventilating. I calmed myself by thinking of the day that she and I would laugh about this.

The turbulence only got worse. The air was relentless. The goddess of clouds was beautiful but reclusive. We were evidently not welcome in the sky that day.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the captain again, “unfortunately we will be returning to Detroit Metropolitan Airport at this time. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

We began to pitch or yaw or whatever to the left and turn around. Boy did that not go well, and frustration in the passengers swiftly turned to panic. I tried to calm Vanessa, but she could no longer hear me over all the other noise. I was irritated with the whole ordeal, but at least I would get to spend the delay with Vanessa. Maybe we’ll just skip the flight and go out to dinner.

We made it through about ten minutes of vicious turbulence before we heard a bang, and the plane began leaning to the right. There were impossibly long seconds of free fall, followed by the most stomach-turning creaking—like a butcher’s knife against a chalkboard. The mighty metal bird groaned, spitting fire and bolts as it tried to maintain equilibrium with the wind.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm while we move into a controlled descent for an emergency landing. I repeat…”

He may have said it again, but nobody heard him. Even my eyes became watery upon realizing the gravity of the situation. The airplane groaned like an overworked racehorse. Next came rumbles in the belly, the likes of which I had never heard. I’ve always treasured that split-second upon opening my eyes in the morning when the memory of my awful life has yet to surface. Here there were full minutes of denial—first of the delay, then of a rough landing, and finally of the truth: that I would be dead before my grandmother. We’re gonna crash. We’re gonna land in the ocean and drown or be eaten by killer whales.

But we weren’t over water, so there were risks much more dangerous than whales. The flight attendants began barking orders. I could no longer be there for Vanessa. I was frozen.

The nose of the plane dipped, still rolling slightly to the right. We passed back down below the clouds. That’s when someone had the bright idea to look out the window… The fucking engine was on fire. Somebody had shot a goddamn missile into our right engine. Either that or somebody back on the ground fucked up bad. We had been above the clouds, so it couldn’t have been lightning. Chaos broke out in the cabin.

“Please follow the instructions presented on screen above you, and look to the flight attendants up front for guidance. I repeat…”

We were no longer ladies or gentlemen, just bodies, numbers. The nose dipped lower, and we picked up speed because that’s just what we needed. People screamed and cried. It’s possible that Vanessa had already passed out and died. I remember the whimpering of a young kid over everything else. She was so quiet, and everything around her so loud, but I heard her so clearly. I could tell it was a girl, an innocent little girl. I later found out that there were no children aboard the flight.

“Please remain calm and courteous of those around you. Always secure yourself before attempting to help others. Once on the ground, please follow the instruction of our flight attendants and exit the aircraft in an orderly manner.”

I learned in a documentary that pilots are taught to give instructions for what to do after landing. It’s meant to give passengers hope.

An oxygen mask dropped onto my head—I paid no attention to it. This was no “emergency landing.” This was the tragedy of the week. This was a furious descent into a fiery death. Many accept the reaper, as long as he comes tomorrow, never today. Shock, horror, denial, begging—one lifetime is simply not long enough for it all. A human mind can crash and burn trying to fit so many emotions into one short fall. Many on that plane lost their mind before their body. I saw the once-smiling stewardess break into tears.

“We’ve located a field for landing. On behalf of myself and first officer Dodds, good luck… and God have mercy.”

God—I hadn't even considered him. I guess the fuckers on the ground didn’t pray for us.

What struck me more than anything was the utter stillness in the captain’s voice. Even the voices you could hear in the background sounded totally calm. I cried my first tear in ages for the utter stoicism of the captain’s words, and the humanity which still carried through. He accepted the weight of the moment and wouldn’t let it break his concentration for a second. He showed courage so we didn’t have to.

Suddenly, the oxygen mask slid over my face. I looked over at the old woman. I found pure serenity in her eyes, and a crease in her cheeks popped up through her mask—she was smiling.

“I was only going to see my grandmother to make sure I had a place in her will.”

I don’t know if she heard me. It didn’t matter. She grabbed my hand. I wasn’t alone.

The ground became larger. I waited for a sense of overwhelming peace. I hoped for some type of transcendence. I begged my brain to do something profound.

The PA clicked on one last time.

“One-thousand feet,” the first officer could be heard saying.

“Brace for impact,” said the captain.

“Pull up,” said a robotic voice in the background. “Pull up. Pull up. Pull up.”

It felt like we were going way too fast. I looked out the window. The plane's left wing sliced through a tree. Everything went quiet.

We hit hard. My eyes closed instinctually, and my entire body tensed up. I estimated about 4 seconds before everything was still again. My life never flashed before me. God never spoke to me. I focused on my own body before opening my eyes. I felt absolutely nothing until my left wrist started to burn. I heard sirens and then opened my eyes. The plane was mostly gone—swallowed by the earth and vomited up in remnants of steel and flesh. I found my left hand empty. The old woman who I had gotten to know so well in those few minutes of descent was gone. Her name was Catherine Dower. She was seventy-six, widowed with three children and seven grandchildren.

I found dirt inches below my shoeless feet. I was still strapped into my chair. I scanned the area. The fuselage was eviscerated. Nothing to block the view of hearkening hills, tall trees, luscious green grass, and the setting sun. I had never found a landscape so beautiful. After a while, I stopped counting the scattered bodies and focused on the smiting sky. Birds flew overhead and whistled a disorienting tune, or maybe the noise came from the helicopter. My head began throbbing, and I turned my attention back in on myself. I ran my hands all over my body, eventually finding my seat belt practically fused with my skin.

The sirens got louder. I wondered how anyone got here so fast. And that’s when I realized, I’m gonna be completely fine. I was still afraid to move my body, but my mind was racing. I remembered Vanessa. I longed to see her. She's long gone.

Then I thought about the laptop in my luggage; it housed all of my life’s work: manuscripts, screenplays, and short stories. Anything not backed up was gone. I pondered the fate of my legacy had I died. I would’ve been a nobody. And then I remembered that I was a nobody. I hadn’t been spared for some divine purpose—only to go on suffering from a lack thereof.

My life is now a miracle, and yet I still have nothing.

I sat there for a long while, imagining my life going forward. And that’s when something harder than the ground hit me…

I have a story. Something interesting happened to me. I just survived a fucking plane crash! I have sympathy! I have something to say! I have a story!

One has to be practical and rational in a survival scenario.

I can sue the fucking airline! They’ll pay me millions just to go away! That and the monthly checks for PTSD will have me set for life! I can buy a goddamn house on the lake and write whatever the fuck I want whenever I want! I can tell this story! I, the sole survivor of the world’s deadliest plane crash, can tell the story of love, fear, panic, and courage! They’ll be beating down my door for an interview, and I’ll give them a motherfucking epic! I’ll bring a hundred tears to a million eyes! I’ll publish the greatest tale I’ve ever written! An agent will read it, see my talent along with my passion, and publish every single work I produce going forward! I’ll write thrillers, comedies, philosophical fictions, and whatever else the muse strikes upon that day! Hordes of people will pay to read it all! I’ll even realize my biggest dream of having my scripts turned into films! I could even be the one to direct them! I’ll go down in history as the legendary director, author, and survivor!

I had never felt such joy. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that nothing could have turned my life around like a plane crash. This was the best thing to ever happen to me. Where I looked around and saw nothing but destruction, I had never felt so solid. Death surrounding me, I had never felt so alive.

A paramedic found me.

“I got a live one!”

I smiled.

By now, you’ve heard everything on the news. You know everything except for my part of the story. Well, with the help of my agent and the New York Times, I can close this first one. Firstly, my thoughts and prayers are with the families of Catherine, Vanessa, and all of the other six crew members and 148 passengers. The fear I felt that day was trumped only by the undying bravery of those who are tragically no longer with us.

I never made it out West. My grandmother died in her hospital before I even made it to mine. I stayed under medical surveillance for nine days with minor fractures and a serious concussion. In the end, the only things I really lost are my grandmother, some wrist mobility, and a little everlasting light. On my hospital bed, I renounced air travel and swore to keep myself grounded. That makes 155 people who will never fly again.

—Markus Newburg, sole survivor of Northwest Airlines flight 255