The Story of a Flight with Mechanical Trouble

The Story of a Flight with Mechanical Trouble A few years ago, my uncle and his family planned a weeklong trip to another state in the United States, both to explore and to visit a few friends. Uncle Mohsen, as was his habit, got them to the airport two hours early.

He wanted to be sure they would make the flight on time, and to have something to eat and a beer at an airport bar. As he put it, that helped get him into vacation mode. He was chatting with the children and my aunt when an airport announcement caught his attention. The flight was delayed by an hour.

It didn’t seem important, so they carried on. When the time came, they went to the gate and boarded. The doors closed, the flight attendants gave the usual safety demonstration, everything went normally, and at last the plane took off. Less than twenty minutes later, suddenly…

A few rows behind them, on the left side of the plane, people began shouting, “Fire! Fire! The engine’s on fire!” Within seconds, the seatbelt signs came back on and the flight attendants tried to calm the passengers. The atmosphere was heavy. The children were screaming, and everyone began to cry.

The pilot began to speak. He asked everyone to return to their seats and stay calm. He sounded composed. There was no need to worry, he said; the plane could land safely even with one engine. One engine had developed a problem, and they were returning to their departure airport.

The plane’s movements felt strange, a little violent. Everyone was frightened. One person was crying. Another clutched a cross and prayed. Several were filming on their phones.

My uncle, though, was so shaken by fear and excitement that he seemed to lose control of himself. Tears streamed from his eyes as he laughed aloud. My aunt didn’t know what to do. My cousin, who later told me this story, could only stare in bewilderment.

Suddenly all the oxygen masks dropped from above. My uncle only stared at them. My aunt was trembling badly as she tried to put a mask on my younger cousin. My other cousin began shouting, “Dad! Dad! Daaaaad! “I can’t reach my mask!”

My uncle suddenly came to his senses. His hands shaking, he reached to put the mask on his son, who shouted, “No, yours first! Yours first!” Focused entirely on saving the boy, my uncle said, “Be quiet, son!” But my cousin shouted again, “Yours first! Didn’t you hear what they told us?”

At last my uncle put on his own mask, then his son’s. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. Fear still filled them, but wearing the oxygen masks seemed to bring a little calm.

Everyone was happy and hopeful when they saw the airport. Fire engines, ambulances, and other vehicles lined the runway. Their lights made it look like a dance club. The pilot spoke again and said they were coming in to land.

A little later, the plane landed. There were sirens, horns, shouting, the sounds of firefighters at work on one side and flight attendants on the other. But everyone was crying only because they were so happy.

But do you know why it matters to put on your own mask first? Because without enough oxygen, you can lose consciousness in minutes. If you pass out, you cannot help anyone else!

If my uncle had not done that, both he and my cousin might have been harmed. And what does that have to do with us today, and with our struggle?

These turbulent days leave all of us full of anxiety, pain, and commotion. Every one of us risks our mental health. My comrade, my friend, if we forget to care for ourselves, we may never have the chance to help our fellow Iranians. We have to look after ourselves too. Sometimes we need to hold ourselves close. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.