What's That Smell?

I sat in the terminal at Miami International Airport with a cooler tucked under my arm. These were the days before taking off shoes and offensive magnetic wand searches, and I was able to carry the suspicious box through security without the slightest hesitation. The safety officer must have been sound asleep, because the contents of the box would be easy to recognize on X-ray. I looked around nervously as the announcement sounded overhead, “Now boarding all rows to New York.” I grabbed the cooler, making sure that the lid was secure, and headed up the jetway.

The stewardess greeted me with an inviting smile, and I decided to engage her in some small talk. She was tall and pretty with long, blonde hair that was pulled back tightly into a bun. Her well-pressed, navy blue uniform couldn’t hide her shapely figure and her gold nametag said, “Tricia”. “So, Tricia, are we getting any food on this flight?” “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you”, she replied and I smiled back. The weight of the cooler was making my shoulder ache, and I worried for a moment that she might want to know what was inside, so I politely excused myself and found my seat.

I immediately felt better once I stowed the cooler in the overhead compartment. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and sat down next to a middle-aged woman who was reading the newspaper. I was a senior in college, but this was only the second airplane flight I had ever taken. My father was not a big fan of flying, so whenever my family took a trip, we would travel by train, boat or car. But I decided to spend my spring break in Key West, so I flew down to Miami and drove down US 1 to the Keys. It was an unbelievably fun trip, but now I was ready to go back to school. And I was traveling with special cargo.

The plane took off and made a gentle bank turn up the coast. The water was a beautiful shade of aqua, and the view of Miami was equally as amazing. Suddenly, the plane jolted and dark smoke began billowing forward from the rear of the aircraft. I turned to the woman next to me and asked, “What’s that smell?” “I believe that one of the engines is burning”, she calmly stated without looking up from her newspaper. I felt the sweat building up on my palms, and when I looked out the window, I saw fuel spraying out from every engine. “They do that to make the plane lighter for emergency landings”, the woman continued. She put her newspaper down and smiled reassuringly, “I’m a pilot’s wife. Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”

The plane suddenly made an awkward bank turn back towards the airport. I wasn’t sure if we’d make it back to the airport or have to land on the water, but I was relieved when I saw the ground below me. I closed my eyes and recited every prayer I ever knew. The plane shifted from side to side and bounced down on the runway with enough force to make me rise out of my seat as the lap belt dug into my thighs. Several passengers screamed as black smoke continued to fill the cabin. When the plane came to a stop, we all made our way towards the side doors and slid down the evacuation ramp onto the tarmac.

What followed was a 4 hour layover in Miami. I learned that one of the engines had caught fire, but even more amazing was the fact that we would be getting back on the same plane! I calmed my nerves with a couple of Margaritas in the lounge. When I finally boarded the plane again, the plane was overheated from sitting on the runway for so long. I heard a couple of people behind me complaining that there was still a bad smell in the cabin. Suddenly, I realized that the bad smell was not coming from the vents. It was coming from MY COOLER!

During the flight, more and more people began complaining about the putrid smell in the airplane. I asked Tricia for a blanket, but she gave me a quizzical look because the temperature in the cabin was probably close to 80 degrees. She brought the blanket, but the smell in the area was obviously putting a severe strain on her beautiful smile. I quickly opened the overhead bin and stuffed the blanket around the cooler to mask the odor, but it didn’t help much. All around the plane, passengers were fanning themselves and looking at the people next to them, saying, “I didn’t do it!” When I arrived at JFK, I found a deserted section of the terminal and dumped the contents of the cooler out into the garbage. What a crime.

I drove back to my parents’ house on Long Island. They were naturally concerned about my horrifying experience on the plane. “You see, that’s why I don’t fly”, my father announced triumphantly. I told them about all the good times I had in Key West with my friends. We rented mopeds, hung out on the beach and even went deep sea fishing right off the coast of Cuba. We caught a lot of Mahi Mahi and brought it back to the hotel where we mixed up a beer batter and had a huge fish fry. In fact, we couldn’t even finish all the fish we caught. “So where is all the fish you were going to bring back for us?” my parents inquired. I hesitated and looked down. “Well ... that’s a whole other story.”