Don't Drink and Fly - Memories - I know about plane crashes

Thank the good Lord above for giving that pilot sense when he had to take the plane into the frosty waters of the Hudson River today.

I had been following my afternoon ritual of reviewing all the news cycles, attempting to make sense of what our future was going to be, when breaking news of the Airbus from La Guardia to Charleston plunged down ON the river.

I was so brought back to the late winter in 79 or 80 when that plane ran off the runway, plunging into the Potomac River in Washington.

This accident just so happened when I was planning my move to Chicago for my new position as Director of Public Relations with a national insurance company.

I flew into O'Hare on the coldest day in recorded history, 100 degrees below zero wind chill factor, and a 40 mph wind. It was too cold to snow.

In the south, we wear fur coats for fashion...up there you really have reason to wear them. Thank God mine had a huge collar that I used to wrap around my head and face.

I also had on new alligator shoes, which were ruined in the salt slush.

Once at the company apartment, I was greeted with a wonderful treat...indoor pool, hot tub and sauna, which I put to use immediately. After dipping into the pool, then into the hot tub, running outside to jump into a snow bank returning once again in to the sauna.

The next day, the plane went into the river and all week long those images played in my head. It was so horrific, seeing those people struggle to grasp onto life vests as the responders attempt to pull them to safety...ugh, it haunts me to this day.

I never had a problem flying before this, but by the time I was ready to come home and complete the move, I was so nervous, begging Glen, in travel, to let me come home via the train or bus.

Years earlier, traveling to boarding school, I would usually take the Panama Limited to New Orleans, boarding in either Grenada or Winona. Loved getting on that train at 4 a.m. headed south after a "good-conduct" weekend. That too, is another story.

Glen said he had already bought the ticket, so I took it as a no. "If you'd like, I'll take you to the airport and wait until you board."

At O'Hare, he took me in to the 7 Continents lounge where I got snookered. We both did. Ready to board, we took a wrong turn, heading down the concourse, to the wrong gate.

With no time to spare, we turned around, heading to the correct gate...at the other end of the concourse, I was the last to board. Getting on board was easy, and leaving easier, as I had to be awakened upon reaching Jackson.

Just glad I never have had to experience what those dear folks in New York and Washington did.