Metaphorical Airplane Back To Sanity

I woke up with this metaphor in my head. I think it's about the reasons I ddn't call my "best friend" at all during the holidays. Not Thanksgiving. Not Christmas. Not New Years Eve. It's quite possible I may never call him again.


So you're on a passenger plane with about twenty other people. Destination: The Rest Of Your Life.

Your "best friend" is the pilot and somewhere along your trip you notice the plane has gone slightly off-course. Nobody else seems to notice so you keep it to yourself, figuring once he realizes his mistake he'll make the needed correction and the trip will go pretty much as planned. But after a while, he still hasn't fixed the mistake and the plane continues to travel further from its presumed destination.

So you walk up to the cockpit and casually mention to the pilot that his plane has been going slightly off-course for a while now and that if he plans to get his passengers even close to their intended destination he'd better make a correction soon. But instead of taking your concern seriously, he takes offense and tells you he knows how to fly a plane, thank you very much.

You're tempted to bring up his previous "accidents" (ones that only you know about), but before you can, he tells you that his course change was intentional. He says the "straight and narrow" flight plan is boring and predictable and he's just taking the scenic route. He says not to worry and that you should relax and just enjoy the ride. Since he's your "best friend" and you're supposed to be his, you decide to trust him and go sit down.

But as the scenery below changes radically, the other passengers on the plane begin to protest. This isn't the trip they were expecting - not even close. You try to reassure them by saying you've spoken to the pilot personally and he assured you he knows his destination and is merely taking the scenic route. But the other passengers aren't convinced, and either are you as you notice the plane is flying dangerously close to a mountain.

You decide to go back to the cockpit and tell your "best friend" that, despite his explanation, the other passengers are becoming frightened. Again, he insists he knows what he's doing and can handle his aircraft.

Suddenly, you hear a gut-wrenching thud and realize the plane has clipped a mountain goat, damaging one of the rear stabilizers. The aircraft is pitching up and down rapidly, as if it's jumping a series of small waves. You can hear the passengers back in the cabin screaming for their lives.

Incredibly, the pilot has let go of the stick and screams, "Woo Hoo! Can you feel that? It's like surfing the clouds. What a r-r-r-r-rush!"

You plead with him to take control of his aircraft, and since he's your "best friend" and you look genuinely frightened, he finally does. He apologizes and does his best to control the plane's pitch until all you can feel is an unsettling vibration. It's not smooth, but it doesn't feel life-threatening anymore. He guides the plane to a safe altitude and heads back towards home.

At some point during the flight back, the other passengers begin to talk amongst themselves. They realize, after comparing notes, that this isn't the first time this pilot has had trouble flying. And as soon as the plane reaches familiar territory, you're quite surprised to see them risk parachuting to the ground before they reach their final destination. "Well, that's going a bit far," you say to an empty cabin.

You go back to the cockpit and tell your "best friend" that the other passengers have jumped ship.

"Good riddance!" he says. "Now we can have some real fun."

"That doesn't bother you?" you ask.

"Nah, they probably found out about the landing gear," he says casually.

"What do you mean? What about the landing gear?"

"It hasn't been working right," he mentions.

"Why didn't you tell me that before we took off?" you ask incredulously.

"I didn't think you'd come along," he says. "Stop worrying so much. Besides, who wants be well-grounded when you can fly free? It's so much more liberating."

You remind him that, eventually, he's going to run out of fuel and have to land his plane no matter what - and that he could end up so far from home he'll never make it back.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll get there," he says dismissively, just before he yanks on the stick and turns the plane back towards the treacherous mountain range.

You know you should jump out, just like the other passengers, but being his "best friend" you also know that you're supposed to be there when everybody else has abandoned him. You steel yourself for a bumpy ride and an even bumpier landing.

Somewhere high among the jagged mountains you hear one of the engines sputter. When you ask about it, your "best friend" mentions that it's been acting up for a couple of weeks. You don't even ask why he didn't tell you until now. You just shake your head and look at the floor.

For the first time you clutch your parachute. But your "best friend" is calm and even appears happy, despite the fact that his plane is vibrating badly from a damaged stabilizer, the landing gear is questionable, and one of his engines is sputtering.

Then it happens again - just like you knew it would. Another gut-wrenching thud, but this time it's much worse than before. One of the jagged mountain peaks has torn off half the right wing and the plane has gone into a fatal spiral.

You quickly put on your parachute and prepare to jump out of the doomed airplane. When you look for your "best friend", expecting him to be right behind you, you're floored by what you see. He's not putting on his parachute at all, but carefully pouring himself a drink as the plane spirals out of control. When you scream at him to put on his parachute and jump, he just looks at you dumbly, as if you're speaking another language.

Finally, you jump off his plane and land in a place you wouldn't even visit, but you're relatively safe. Your "best friend" is still spiraling perilously overhead, and for a brief moment, you fantasize about catching him, plane and all, to save him from his fate. But instead you return to sanity, say a prayer, and step out of the way.


January 1, 2006