I noticed the co-pilot as he wandered around and then returned to the cockpit. I knew then the FBI had talked to the pilot. The passengers began to get uneasy, probably sensing something was wrong. One of them asked the stewardess if everything was alright. She told them as far as she knew everything was okay. At the time she didn’t know anything was wrong.
It’s going to be hard for them to catch me, I thought to myself. When I worked as a janitor at the airports, I removed my employee applications and all other information about me. I destroyed everything pertaining to me. Not only did I work as a janitor and fueled planes, I also worked in baggage and towed planes into their loading and unloading gate ramps. Cutbacks at the airports, at that time, meant I had several jobs to do. I knew the airport like the back of my hand.
Suddenly the stewardess came back in with a worried look on her face.
“I need everyone’s attention,” she said. “We have run into some difficulties and we are going to make an emergency landing in Atlanta.”
The passengers immediately panicked. Some asked questions while others cried; their faces were full of fear.
“Please, everyone,” she cried. “Let’s not make it any worse than it is. If we all stay calm we can help each other get through this.”
“I want to talk to the pilot,” I demanded as I pretended to be afraid and concerned.
Directly, the pilot entered the cabin. He tried to calm the frightened crowd. I spoke up and told him we had a right to know what was going on because our lives were at stake. But, he assured us it was just a precaution. He told us everything would be alright and the helped ease some of the tension.
“Please follow the stewardess’ directions and everything will be alright. We will arrive in Atlanta in about five minutes.” Then he turned to me and said, “Father, feel free to talk to them. I would greatly appreciate it.”
I nodded my head. However, I was caught off guard when a little girl came over to me and sat on my lap; she had been crying. I was dumbfounded, at a loss for words, and shaken inside. So innocent and yet so tender in life, I noticed there was hope in her eyes. A hope I had never seen before. My eyes watered as her mother came for her.
“I’m sorry, Father,” her mother said.
I wiped my eyes and replied, “That’s alright. What is her name?”
“Hope,” she replied as she left with the child.
I eased back in my seat and continued my deep thoughts.