Viscount Ride This plane is really quiet--- (nothing like a “recip”)— Its four “Darts” only whistle as they’re pulling me on this trip. I can hear the talk of others—though they are some rows away— It’s a treat to fly on “Capital”—“turbines here to stay!” Wish I hadn’t had that ‘chill’-- when I took this seat of mine— ‘Picturing a twisting wing--- “three” and “four” so out of line’! Never thoughts like this before---the ‘vision’ bright and clear--- Were I not needed with this group---I’d been “out of here”! That was back an hour or so, and Pittsburgh’s come and gone— The airplane’s full and the meal is good and Atlanta’s coming on— At ‘one niner’ thousand feet -- dessert is next for me— Felt a skip-- belt light’ is “on” for one and all to see. We’re rolling right! –on our wingtip stand!—but this is not a turn!! Back to the left in the wink of an eye and “wing-twist” I discern!! Engine three is pointing up--- while number four is down— Now I’m shoved against the wall—as if I’m whirling ‘round”! Cloud envelops our descent and the slipstream’s now a shout--- Someone is screaming out in pain--- in the rear—or thereabout-- No one else is making sound— I’m plastered in my seat— Think some lines from Psalm 23—by rote I can repeat. Now the sideways shove is gone--we are really diving fast— The roaring wind outside the plane—I doubt that we can last--- I’m sure that wing spar must have failed when we entered this spinning dive--- When we add load to stop this plunge—there’s no way we’ll survive!! Now I’m really shoved hard down—my face is sagging too— We’re rounding at the bottom--- and the wing has pulled us through!! Why that ‘boom’ and hiss I heard?—and the lights no longer light?— But the sound of the wind is softer now--- the ground is now in sight. The inside of this airplane is like a garbage truck— Papers--hats and dinner food are on our portside stuck-- That’s an M.D-- in front of me-he’s struggling to the tail— Flight attendant broke her leg in her un-restrained travail. The other “stew” is on her way with a message from the crew--- We’re going back to Pittsburgh to assess what we’ve been through— Our radio will not “receive”, gear and flaps in doubt – (If we are going to “belly-in”—I hope our belly’s stout)! The view out through this window--- I can guess at what’s our height— Not much more than a thousand feet! Good thing he did this right!! Over the fence at Pittsburgh and the crash trucks speed beside— The flaps and gear work as they should—anti-climax to the ride. I’ll hang around this ramp-side door and see what I can learn That message—“we’ll soon re-board” has made my stomach churn. I hear one “mech” (to another say) “that this plane will stay the night— “A fillet’s burst and a stab is sprung and crash-relay’s not right.” Past mid- night when I take this seat on another Viscount plane— Of the forty four on our manifest—forty two remain!— My beard is showing through my skin—my smarting eyes are red- On the ground in Atlanta now— once sure that I’d be dead! Bill Woodall