March 19, 2007 - Take-off?

Same time, next year. During our last adventure flying Space A in October, trying to get to the East Coast, Robert wanted to know why we always had to travel this way. Why couldn't we do it the easier and more comfortable way and fly commercial airlines like everybody else. Well, you can't complain when you are flying free, can you? So when Rob came down on orders for another hardship tour and our dreams of spending Spring Break taking on the challenge of trying to catch military hops all the way to Australia fizzled, I decided that this year we would take the less adventurous route and buy guaranteed tickets that would take us to Thailand. Guaranteed seats, guaranteed route, right? I really thought that I wouldn't have anything to write about. I mean how can you top grabbing flights on a moments' notice and landing in the middle of the night at unplanned stops in foreign countries during training exercises with everything in blackout lights? On the day we left everything went as planned. Our dear friend Celeste picked us up early Monday morning and drove us the 2+ hours to San Francisco. We were all checked in and through security with over an hour to spare. Not too shabby. Our flight loaded on time and although we were flying steerage with the people in front of us practically in our laps we buckled in to settle down for the first leg of the flight to Narita Airport in Tokyo, with a planned short layover to change out planes and then on to Bangkok - same flight number the whole way. 18 hours and 2 days since we were going to cross over the International Dateline but I knew we would gain a day coming home so it would be worth the sacrifice. As we were cruising down the runway Robert was smiling. I was staring at the monitor and I had just bumped his elbow to point out to him that we had reached 250km/hour when suddenly the pilot hit the brakes. Just like that. The stewardesses who were sitting facing us a row away were trying to put on their best poker faces. Everyone was kind of quiet as they were puzzling over what had just happened. The pilot suddenly said over the speaker Stay in your seats, Stay in your seats. As if we were going to go anywhere? Alarming to say the least but there were only quiet murmurs as we finally slowed to a stop. And there we sat. Dead stop, no explanation. Finally the pilot came on over the air and said that because our take-off was aborted we would have to wait for the brakes to cool. So we waited. 45 minutes later we were escorted slowly back to the gate. As we were rolling a passenger reported that he saw a lot of fluid coming out of the right wing. The stewardess called the pilot and was told that it was normal during a sudden stop. The tank was full and the fluid needed somewhere to go. When we arrived at the gate we were told that the brakes needed time to cool and all of the tires needed to be changed. Since this would take about 5 hours the crew would also have to be changed. We would deplane and be given food tickets for lunch. So there we were. In the International terminal in San Francisco wondering if we would ever leave again. As the afternoon passed it was hard to remember that the microcosm that we were in was San Francisco. We were surrounded by so many Japanese and every announcement was in Japanese that it felt as though we had left. One gets used to the sounds of mothers speaking to and soothing their children in languages that are white noise to the ears. I know it's language and I take comfort because instinctively I share that bond of motherhood - I've said the same things today in my own tongue. Still we wait...