August 14 - On a flight from Chicago to Los Angeles, I am jolted awake as the plane falls into a mini-tailspin. It's more than typical turbulence; the lights flicker, like in a disaster movie, and people begin screaming. A few of the overhead compartments fly open, which I fixate on as the roller-coaster sensation of gut-to-gullet kicks in (how in the hell did those open? Aren't they mechanically latched?). The whole thing lasts two seconds, tops, and we level off. The guy next to me, who is wearing a "Got Freedom?" t-shirt, turns on his cell phone and tries dialing a number. The pilot comes on and apologizes, saying that our plane crossed into the wake of another flight that they hadn't been made aware of. The last half-hour of the flight passes in complete silence, with the exception of a few sniffles and sobs from some traumatized passengers.
As the plane lands and begins to taxi, an impossibly perky stewardess grabs the p.a. and begins to speak:
"No extra charge for that fancy flying back there, as we welcome you to Los Angeles International Airport...," she says. Her speech is cut off abruptly, as a woman in the back of the plane hysterically screams "FUCK YOU!" at the top of her lungs. The chirpy flight attendant calmly puts the p.a. mic back in its cradle and sits down.
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