Tales From The Badge - A Mid-Air Crisis Caused the Lame To Walk!

Due to the impoliteness of my previous hub about passing gas, I'm making restitution with a joke: " What do you get when you cross a bear and a skunk?" The answer is at the bottom of my hub in my own first comment, DO NOT CHEAT AND SCROLL DOWN, HORRIBLE THINGS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU.

Now for the story I am about to tell:

I didn't see this happen, but since a cop never lies, and he swore at the telling that this was true, so help him God, I figured it must have really happened.

Towards the end of my husband's law enforcement career, he took a detour and became a Special Deputy for the Department of US Marshall Service, as a Federal Air Marshall. Their headquarters is based in Oklahoma City. His job was to transport and guard federal inmates and return illegal immigrants from Puerto Rico who had committed crimes, back to their homeland, courtesy of your tax dollars. In the course of one year, they would move over 100,000 inmates.

The skies were alive with criminals.

He saw things that both amused and irritated him. Men in the process of becoming women are not a pretty sight. To be half-way in-between, biologically, is a curious sight. However, he did say that some men made pretty women, if you could get over the fact that they had parts of their bodies either removed, or in hiding.

But, that is not what this story is about. The men and women who are guests of the Federan Inmate System are moved from here and there (your tax dollars at work), via old clunky airplanes held together with wishes and promises, and maybe a well placed piece of chewed bubble gum.

No guns are allowed in the plane cabins, though they are carried in the cargo area. Of course, you can't get to them while in flight, so they don't do much good, should they be needed. The deputies relied on each other, their wit, and their alertness. If you've ever suffered from jet lag, you know the "alert" part is hard to come up with at 15 hours of flying and 3 days of no sleep.

The prisoners are in chains, thin clothing no matter the weather, and stockings are available to pull over their faces if the inmate decides he'd like to spit on you. Most of the time, you don't know that's his desire until it's happened, but the stockings stand ready.

Lynn normally didn't have trouble with an inmate. He was respectful to them, not chatty, did his job and moved on. He didn't smart off or make fun of their plight. I think he coughed a couple of times when he saw the "he/she's," no disrespect to your tax dollars, intended. Most of the inmates thought he was a Chaplin and he let them think it, knowing full well that if they caused a problem, praying would not be his first response.

The plane on this day, was full of about 150 prisoners, from 18 - 88. The one that captured his full attention was a man of about 55 in a wheel chair. A few flights before, he'd seen him walking with no problem. He asked one of the deputies what had happened; no one knew.

Securing the wheelchair to the floor, Lynn continued down the aisle making sure they had their seat belts securly fastened and did they need peanuts, or a nice beverage. They could ask, but nothing was ever served. This was a low budget flight. Con Air in the sky.

Shortly after take off, as they climbed to 30,000 feet, Lynn got a strange feeling. The air was stiff, his ears felt plugged, sound seemed far away. He didn't think of it as a premonition, but he knew something was different. He licked his lips, and got up to make a round.

Cops know, if they're wise, to trust their instincts. Trouble with instinct, it's not a clear message from the cosmos. It doesn't come in on a ticker tape with a well laid out plan of action, re-action. You're basically on your own, tryiing to figure out the next second before "it" happens.

He walked the aisles, checking seat belts and shackles. They all thought he was being nice, and asked for water and peanuts again. Same answer. "Sure."

Just as Lynn sat back down and buckled in, almost as if it had waited so he'd be in that chair, the left engine blew with a loud explosion!

Hell entered the plane, shouting welcome for all those IT was about to claim.

Everyone screamed; no one was ashamed. The plane jerked to the right and then pitched to the left, waddling in mid air, trying to find it's center. Suddenly, it dropped. And, dropped. A prisoner across the aisle yelled at Lynn asking, "What do we do?" Lynn replied calmly, so calmly he wasn't sure it was his own voice. "Kiss your ass goodbye."

Cops talk like that sometimes to prisoners. The man shook his head and smiled...no further words necessary when you have dying on the mind.

Seconds took hours to pass. Lynn said he did not see his life before his eyes, he was just suddenly ravenously hungry. He wanted to eat something, anything. The only food on board was his bagged lunch, way up at the front of the plane in the break area. In the next second, the plane righted itself, causing the prisoners to shout for joy. At least it was better than hitting the ground when you weren't ready to land.

Lynn popped his belt and hurried to the front of the plane where the other deputies were gathering. Everyone was talking at once and it wasn't anything you'd hear in church. If prayers were said, they were mental and silent as they tried to stay calm. The pilot cabin was locked and secure, but they called the flight crew on the plane phone. Hi-tech stuff.

They just hoped they got an answer, since no one else knew anything about landing. Lynn always said that landing was the hardest part. Staying in mid-air was next.

The pilot answered and said "I guess you heard that engine blow." Duh. "You'll be happy to know it's no longer burning, but neither can we continue our flight. We're returning to the airport. Sorry for the delay, we know you'll all be pleased to get on the ground, at the newly re-scheduled destination. Our estimated time of arrival is about 10 minutes, if the other engine holds, which we have no reason to believe it won't. Enjoy your flight, and please put your trays in the upright position. You might want to have a seat, and fasten your seatbelts."

They did. About the time they were snuggly fastened and tightly belted, they saw the landing strip ahead, full of emergency vehicles and fire trucks. Lynn said it was not comforting, because he had not thought of fire upon landing until that moment.

The prisoner next to him said "I guess it's a good thing I already kissed my ass. You have family?"

The deputies never used their real names on flight, and they never ever mentioned anything about home. You didn't want these guys who had friends on the outside, being able to use anything to get their needs met by manipulating information or causing harm to someone like ME.

So, Lynn ignored the question.

As the plane came to a stop, Lynn began the "unshackling" process, which only meant that the shackles fastened to the floor were taken loose, their feet were still connected to a separate chain. When he finished, he looked up, and was stunned. The man in the wheel chair was now up and walking very rapidly, with NO APPARENT PROBLEM, making his way off the plane.

Lynn turned to another deputy and said "I think I've just seen the Lame Walk. It's a MIRACLE, A MIRACLE!!"

No one could get off the plane fast enough. Including the crippled guy.

Life went on, your tax dollars know no rest. The next day, the flight was repeated in a different plane, and once again, the lame was back in the wheel chair. Evidently, the miracle had a short life.

O ye, of little faith.

I am Marisue, telling the story of a cop's life.