Mr. B is 6'1, I am 5'1. To give you a better visual--you may be scared to visualize anything I say after the sweat dripping butt scenario--Mr. B's legs begin at my belly button. So it's no surprise that Mr. B and his long lanky legs salivate, except not really because legs don't salivate, at the opportunity to sit in the exit row on the airplane. With my stubby little legs, I don't quite get this desire to sit in a row where you have to stand up to get your gummy bears, chips, raisinets, People, US weekly and OK! magazines (yes, I realize they usually have the same information and pictures, but I don't want to miss a better picture that might show Kim Kardashian's cellulite in a better light). Oh yeah and maybe the fact that YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYONE'S LIFE ON THE PLANE.
July 25, 2009 we begin boarding for our honeymoon. Mr. B hears that the exit row is open and he so kindly request that we change our seats. I'm thinking they should have a new rule that if you are not 15, if you look like you're 15, or if you don't look like you can save everyone in case of emergency then you should not be allowed to sit in the exit row. Let's just say, if I was you I would not place your life in my hands in during an emergency.
As we walk down the jetway, I'm grumbling about the decision he made to put us in the exit row. Reiterating the fact that I hate bearing the responsibility to save everyone's life. Maybe having some selfish thoughts about how my man is going to save ME if WE are saving OTHER people while possibly losing our own lives somewhere along the way. In case you haven't caught on...I'm kind of a pessimist. Mr. B reassures me that "Nothing ever happens. We will be fine." Maybe if I had Inspector Gadget legs like he did I would understand the risk of lives for leg room.
About an hour into the flight we hear this really loud beeping noise eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (a nice, high pitched, steady sound) for about 15 minutes. Maybe they should mention this sound in the safety videos because none of the passengers, including myself or Mr. B, were phased. Just a little heads up that the smoke alarm sounds like this eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee would have been helpful in this situation. Or maybe not because it would've increased the panic pretty significantly.
Attention was drawn as the flight attendants began to run up and down the aisle. Just as I had a mind blowing discovery that I too could have the same self esteem and love for my cellulite as Kim if it was airbrushed (deny it all you want, honey) in every picture, the flight attendent makes an announcement.
"Everyone feel around your seats, windows and floor for smoke!! If it's by you press the flight attendent button!"
Um...flight attendant lady say what?? The smoke alarm is going off, you can't find the smoke, we are over the Atlantic (kind of made that up, geography isn't my strong suit) and I am in the EXIT ROW?!?
As you can imagine, Mr. B was most likely receiving the evil eye from his lovely bride, as passengers were freaking out. I, on the other hand, kept repeating, "Who's gonna be on the island with us? Who is gonna be our leader? What do we have to fight off the "others"?" Except at the time we weren't even into Lost (How is that even possible?? What were we thinking??) so that is not what I was saying. Sidenote: Over Christmas we became addicted to Lost watching all 5 seasons back to back to back, we couldn't stop... hence the addiction--I wasn't exaggerating. So on our flight back to FL these were legitimate thoughts we had while at the airport. Anyways back to our honeymoon flight, it went more like, "I'm not saving anyone. I'm not saving anyone. What will happen if I don't save anyone? How will they know if I don't save anyone? Will they sue me? I'm not doing it. Nothing ever happens..."
The pilot comes on the speaker and tells us that we are having an emergency landing and they can not find where the smoke is coming from. Apparently since we were in the middle of the ocean, the closest airport was Boston...where the flight departed...45 minutes away.
Thank the Lord, we made it safely! As we get closer to the runway we see about 5 firetrucks and a bunch of firefighters that swarm the plane as soon as it lands. Nothing says "Welcome Back" like that.
We go back in the airport to figure out what they were going to do with everyone on this flight. Well of course, there is no other way to handle this situation than to CANCEL this trip. My hero hunk of a husband goes to the nearest flight desk and we find out there is only ONE other flight heading to the Dominican and there are only TWO seats left. It was a real life "Amazing Race" moment. Man, the rush!
We find out our flight made the news, we get on the next flight, make sure we are NOT in the exit row and end up getting in earlier than expected. If only we would've realized this was a sign of things to come...