An RCMP officer in full uniform on horseback? Give me a break! I didn't think the New York Times published fiction. Mark -----Original Message----- From: The Airline List [mailto:AIRLINE@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx] On Behalf Of Bill Hough Sent: September 28, 2004 7:54 AM To: AIRLINE@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Subject: NYTimes.com Article: How I Ordered a Pilot to Land The article below from NYTimes.com has been sent to you by psa188@xxxxxxxxx /--------- E-mail Sponsored by Fox Searchlight ------------\ I HEART HUCKABEES - OPENING IN SELECT CITIES OCTOBER 1 From David O. Russell, writer and director of THREE KINGS and FLIRTING WITH DISASTER comes an existential comedy starring Dustin Hoffman, Isabelle Hupert, Jude Law, Jason Schwartzman, Lily Tomlin, Mark Wahlberg and Naomi Watts. Watch the trailer now at: http://www.foxsearchlight.com/huckabees/index_nyt.html \----------------------------------------------------------/ How I Ordered a Pilot to Land September 28, 2004 By JEFF M. FEINBERG On a flight from London to New York, a flight attendant pleaded for anyone with medical training to help assist a sick passenger. After several minutes passed and no one volunteered, I told her I wasn't a doctor, but had emergency medical technician training and offered to help. She led me to a young woman in the rear of the aircraft who was sobbing and bright red from fever, a result of ingesting a dangerous combination of wine and several 500-milligram capsules of cold medicine that she had removed from their protective coating in a misguided attempt to alleviate flu-like symptoms. With the woman's vital signs weak and her condition deteriorating, I was asked to go to the cockpit to talk by radio with the airline's chief medical officer in the United States. I sat on the jump seat, put on the headset and explained the situation to him. "What do you think we should do?" the chief medical officer asked me to my surprise. "I'm not a doctor," I said. "Well, what would you do?" he asked again. "I'd get her to a hospital as soon as possible and have her stomach pumped," I said. "O.K.,'' he replied. "Tell the captain to land the plane." Me, order the captain to land? I was just a passenger. But I did as I was told, and the pilot complied. He instructed the first officer to identify nearby airports and gauge their quality as landing sites. Within seconds, "Halifax" appeared on the computer screen, the closest location by far, but among the least desirable for landing a jumbo jet. "What does a 'D' rating mean?" I asked the pilot. It meant that the runway was really short, he said, or nonexistent. Wonderful. The pilot informed the passengers of the imminent emergency landing and gave strict instructions to buckle up, as it was going to be a "little rough." I checked on the woman again, then returned to the cockpit. I buckled my seat belt, and the pilot leaned over and attached a shoulder strap to me, pinning me against the wall. With good reason. When the plane hit the ground and the pilot slammed on the brakes, I thought my spleen was going to come out of my mouth. I can only imagine what the passengers in the back of the plane were feeling. The plane stopped at the tip of the runway, with water just a few feet ahead of its nose. An ambulance and a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in full uniform and on horseback greeted the plane, and I escorted the passenger off the aircraft and into the care of a Canadian E.M.T. Back on board, the pilot thanked me and upgraded me to first class, not just for that flight but any time in the coming year. As the plane was being refueled, a sky marshal tapped my shoulder and told me another passenger on board was "feeling uncomfortable" and asking for my assistance. "You've got to be kidding - I'm not a doctor," I said, exasperated. "The problem is, she's on board without protection and she's a little nervous," the sky marshal pleaded. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I got up and followed him back to business class. Sitting there was Chelsea Clinton, who had apparently flown without Secret Service agents because there were sky marshals on the plane. She wanted to know what had happened with the sick passenger. I told her. After a hair-raising takeoff and a meal, the plane finally touched down at Kennedy Airport. Three days later, I was back at J.F.K. for another trip to London. As soon as I gave my name, an attendant approached me, took my bags, led me through security and into the first-class lounge, where I waited to board. My seat was 1A. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/09/28/business/28flier.html?ex=1097383252&ei=1&e n=48f2ebc60dbe41cb --------------------------------- Get Home Delivery of The New York Times Newspaper. Imagine reading The New York Times any time & anywhere you like! Leisurely catch up on events & expand your horizons. Enjoy now for 50% off Home Delivery! 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