Tuesday I found myself standing thoughtful and sad next to my Trendy Explorer in the parking lot behind PSU’s Grubbs Hall, transfixed by an ellipsis of winged dots that stretched from horizon to horizon. Blackbirds migrating across the late afternoon sky.
When I was boy I used to lie on my back in the backyard wondering where the linear flocks streamed from (a distant blackbird manufacturing machine?) and where they were going (a keen blackbird city?). Not to mention how was it they knew how to get where they were going. And, when they arrived, would they have to circle and land with the guidance of a blackbird air traffic controller? Later, I would learn in school that birds (and many other animals) navigate by using the earth’s magnetic field, but this knowledge made the process no less mind-boggling.
Last year, University of Arizona researcher Devens Gust discovered that the magnetic compass sense of migratory birds (their GPS) is based on a magnetically-sensitive chemical reaction in their bodies. A discovery which helps to explain exactly how the birds go about keeping their appointments around the world.
The two Northwest pilots who overshot Minneapolis, their destination, by 150 miles three weeks ago apparently did not possess this chemical reaction. Not only that, they were oblivious to their instruments — as well as the anxiety-ridden radio calls from air traffic control. They later explained that they were logged on to their personal laptop computers and became so absorbed in the airline’s new crew flight scheduling procedure that they forgot what they were supposed to be doing.
Nick Paumgarten wrote in last week’s New Yorker that this was equivalent to a text messaging driver veering off the turnpike and thumping his way through a corn field for twenty minutes without once looking up from his cell phone.
These were not comforting thoughts, to say the least, as I traveled by air last week to Orlando, Florida with some Pitt State students to present at a conference. My discomfort was further enhanced by the fact that I believe hell — or at the very least purgatory — is where a person has to negotiate airports and airline travel repeatedly, much like Bill Murray had to relive the same day over and over in the movie Groundhog Day.
“Good afternoon sinners. This is the pre-boarding announcement for the flight to purgatory. We are now inviting those passengers who sinned as small children, and any venial sinners requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. For all you mortal sinners, please be aware that your flight to hell is currently boarding at gate 666.
This is the final boarding call for passenger J.T. Knoll for the flight to purgatory. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. If you miss this flight you will be rerouted to hell. I repeat. This is the final boarding call.”
You get the picture. Our actual flight on Southwest to Orlando out of Kansas City went pretty smooth all in all. But I did have to fight off the urge to call out, “Did you tell the pilots?” when the flight attendant announced, “Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones.”
The highlight was the standup comedy pre-flight announcement in which the flight attendant said things like, “Should the cabin experience sudden pressure loss, oxygen masks will drop down from above your seat. After you stop screaming, place the mask over your mouth and nose, like this.” and “Anyone pulling the flight attendant call button above their seat will be immediately ejected from the plane.”
Levity doth soothe the nerves – even in purgatory.
Once back in Pittsburg, my air travel memories were quickly replaced with the accumulated responsibilities of work and home that presented themselves after five days on the road.
Not so with the blackbirds. The vision of them streaming across the November sky has remained. Like dots (…) used to indicate something has been omitted from a text, they string themselves through my days and wing their way through my dreams at night.
J.T. Knoll is a writer, speaker and prevention and wellness coordinator at Pittsburg State University. He also operates Knoll Training, Consulting & Counseling Services in Pittsburg. He can be reached at 231-0499 or jtknoll@swbell.net
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Tuesday I found myself standing thoughtful and sad next to my Trendy Explorer in the parking lot behind PSU’s Grubbs Hall, transfixed by an ellipsis of winged dots that stretched from horizon to horizon. Blackbirds migrating across the late afternoon sky.
When I was boy I used to lie on my back in the backyard wondering where the linear flocks streamed from (a distant blackbird manufacturing machine?) and where they were going (a keen blackbird city?). Not to mention how was it they knew how to get where they were going. And, when they arrived, would they have to circle and land with the guidance of a blackbird air traffic controller? Later, I would learn in school that birds (and many other animals) navigate by using the earth’s magnetic field, but this knowledge made the process no less mind-boggling.
Last year, University of Arizona researcher Devens Gust discovered that the magnetic compass sense of migratory birds (their GPS) is based on a magnetically-sensitive chemical reaction in their bodies. A discovery which helps to explain exactly how the birds go about keeping their appointments around the world.
The two Northwest pilots who overshot Minneapolis, their destination, by 150 miles three weeks ago apparently did not possess this chemical reaction. Not only that, they were oblivious to their instruments — as well as the anxiety-ridden radio calls from air traffic control. They later explained that they were logged on to their personal laptop computers and became so absorbed in the airline’s new crew flight scheduling procedure that they forgot what they were supposed to be doing.
Nick Paumgarten wrote in last week’s New Yorker that this was equivalent to a text messaging driver veering off the turnpike and thumping his way through a corn field for twenty minutes without once looking up from his cell phone.
These were not comforting thoughts, to say the least, as I traveled by air last week to Orlando, Florida with some Pitt State students to present at a conference. My discomfort was further enhanced by the fact that I believe hell — or at the very least purgatory — is where a person has to negotiate airports and airline travel repeatedly, much like Bill Murray had to relive the same day over and over in the movie Groundhog Day.
“Good afternoon sinners. This is the pre-boarding announcement for the flight to purgatory. We are now inviting those passengers who sinned as small children, and any venial sinners requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. For all you mortal sinners, please be aware that your flight to hell is currently boarding at gate 666.
This is the final boarding call for passenger J.T. Knoll for the flight to purgatory. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. If you miss this flight you will be rerouted to hell. I repeat. This is the final boarding call.”
You get the picture. Our actual flight on Southwest to Orlando out of Kansas City went pretty smooth all in all. But I did have to fight off the urge to call out, “Did you tell the pilots?” when the flight attendant announced, “Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones.”
The highlight was the standup comedy pre-flight announcement in which the flight attendant said things like, “Should the cabin experience sudden pressure loss, oxygen masks will drop down from above your seat. After you stop screaming, place the mask over your mouth and nose, like this.” and “Anyone pulling the flight attendant call button above their seat will be immediately ejected from the plane.”
Levity doth soothe the nerves – even in purgatory.
Once back in Pittsburg, my air travel memories were quickly replaced with the accumulated responsibilities of work and home that presented themselves after five days on the road.
Not so with the blackbirds. The vision of them streaming across the November sky has remained. Like dots (…) used to indicate something has been omitted from a text, they string themselves through my days and wing their way through my dreams at night.
J.T. Knoll is a writer, speaker and prevention and wellness coordinator at Pittsburg State University. He also operates Knoll Training, Consulting & Counseling Services in Pittsburg. He can be reached at 231-0499 or jtknoll@swbell.net
