Hey everyone. I am indeed well and back at home. Our board and I are busy taking care of a backlog of work and are beginning the planning of the next few years. We are trying to take our time and really think everything through. Thanks to all who made this project lift off the ground. We're up and now we're watching everything closely.
PS- We got our first monthly report and we're going over it now.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Getting Back...
My head bounced against the headrest as I waited for the cabin crew to shut the aircraft door. I was zoned out tired and more than that I was emotionally drained from the six weeks in Tajikistan. I love it and everyone, but I was also glad to be heading to Europe. I was so tired that the minutes before they closed the door seemed to drag on into tens of minutes, then to over an hour.
I was drifting in and out of consciousness when a man stood up and began screaming. The cabin door was still open. It was my first indication that something unusual was going on. We were still on the tarmac, the door was still open, and the angry Tajik man was suddenly surrounded by flight attendants. There were other people standing up too. I decided to keep my head down and lessen my profile, but my ears were up.
I began to look around me. There was an English woman next to me, late 20's. She had been talking to another girl ahead of me in that distinct British accent. I hadn't uttered a word disguising my nationality. I was just watching. I couldn't help but become a little nervous.
Four of the men angrily grabbed their bags and shuffled off the plane, pushing their way forcefully past the also yelling flight attendants. Others were nervous and uncertain, but they remained in their seats. When the plane had cleared of the men a silence fell on us all. The tension was pretty thick. Some whispered worriedly. The captain got on the intercom. It was in Russian and Tajik. I listened in on the two girls as they were talking and they pieced together that there was fuel coming out of the wing of the plane. That seemed bad to me.
The flight attendants had us get up and claim our carry-on bags. I thought that we were getting off the plane. With a fuel leak the flight crew's priority is our safety right? After waiting 10 minutes we were told to replace our bags. Nothing happened. Finally the captain got on the intercom again. He spoke in Tajik, Russian, and English. There was a slight fuel leak from the wing so they were following procedures. No problem, we'll be taking off in 10 minutes. I checked my watch and noted that we had already been sitting, dripping fuel for an hour and a half.
First, I must say that I was impressed that there was a procedure for a plane that's leaking fuel to take off. I was interested and so were those around me about such procedures. Eight uniformed military men stood about 40 yards away and were looking concernedly at the plane. This went on for another half hour with no noticeable action. Finally a man with a yellow plastic bucket came out and put it under the wing of the 737. The plan became evident, a bucket and patience.
45 minutes later they shut the cabin door and a vehicle began to drag the plane away from the puddle of jet fuel on the tarmac. Then they began the safety briefing by helping us to look for the safety exits. The whole situation was absurd enough to make me laugh. When the woman next to me asked if we should be concerned I said, "I don't think so."
We took off, we didn't blow up, and we landed 4 hours late. I was glad to be alive and glad to be in Europe.
I was drifting in and out of consciousness when a man stood up and began screaming. The cabin door was still open. It was my first indication that something unusual was going on. We were still on the tarmac, the door was still open, and the angry Tajik man was suddenly surrounded by flight attendants. There were other people standing up too. I decided to keep my head down and lessen my profile, but my ears were up.
I began to look around me. There was an English woman next to me, late 20's. She had been talking to another girl ahead of me in that distinct British accent. I hadn't uttered a word disguising my nationality. I was just watching. I couldn't help but become a little nervous.
Four of the men angrily grabbed their bags and shuffled off the plane, pushing their way forcefully past the also yelling flight attendants. Others were nervous and uncertain, but they remained in their seats. When the plane had cleared of the men a silence fell on us all. The tension was pretty thick. Some whispered worriedly. The captain got on the intercom. It was in Russian and Tajik. I listened in on the two girls as they were talking and they pieced together that there was fuel coming out of the wing of the plane. That seemed bad to me.
The flight attendants had us get up and claim our carry-on bags. I thought that we were getting off the plane. With a fuel leak the flight crew's priority is our safety right? After waiting 10 minutes we were told to replace our bags. Nothing happened. Finally the captain got on the intercom again. He spoke in Tajik, Russian, and English. There was a slight fuel leak from the wing so they were following procedures. No problem, we'll be taking off in 10 minutes. I checked my watch and noted that we had already been sitting, dripping fuel for an hour and a half.
First, I must say that I was impressed that there was a procedure for a plane that's leaking fuel to take off. I was interested and so were those around me about such procedures. Eight uniformed military men stood about 40 yards away and were looking concernedly at the plane. This went on for another half hour with no noticeable action. Finally a man with a yellow plastic bucket came out and put it under the wing of the 737. The plan became evident, a bucket and patience.
45 minutes later they shut the cabin door and a vehicle began to drag the plane away from the puddle of jet fuel on the tarmac. Then they began the safety briefing by helping us to look for the safety exits. The whole situation was absurd enough to make me laugh. When the woman next to me asked if we should be concerned I said, "I don't think so."
We took off, we didn't blow up, and we landed 4 hours late. I was glad to be alive and glad to be in Europe.
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