A Personal Experience By Brendalynn
I was 22 and living with my parents, and my boyfriend (now husband) was living with me, We both worked and were trying to save up for a house. We had about $6,000 saved, and we were looking at houses; almost all of them cost about $24,000 or more. One day, when I was off work, my aunt called and said that down the street there was a fixer-upper house for $8,000 and she would lend us some money to move down where she lived, Where my aunt lives is in the lower part of Georgia; we lived in Vermont, and the ticket prices would be really expensive, so my aunt paid for them as well, I told my mom the news and she fully supported the idea, so later I asked Jeff if he wanted to go. He told me he thought that sounded great.
We got plane tickets, and I was feeling really good about the whole idea of going to Georgia and living close to my aunt. We went to the airport (a fairly small airport). It was about 12:30 p.m. and our flight wouldn't be boarding till 1:30 p.m., so we had an hour to kill time. As the time got closer and closer, I began to feel increasingly overwhelmed, as I’m not a big fan of flying.
Finally, the intercom came on and said Flight 106 would be boarding in 15 minutes, so we knew that would be a great time to get our bags checked and get on board. Well, after waiting in line for about 10 minutes, I just started to feel nervous, thinking it's just because I'm getting on an airplane. I shook it off and handed my bags to the man checking them; when he finished, he whispered in my ear, "You will be safe."
He was about 6' feet tall, African American, brown eyes, and had no hair. His nametag said his name was Mike. After getting my bags back, Jeff took them out of my hands and boarded the plane. I suddenly felt ill and fainted and was sent to the hospital—come to find out the flight I was getting on crashed!
I went back to the airport and asked the lady at the counter if there was a guy named Mike working. Confused, she said, “Mike who?” Since I didn't know his last name, I explained to her what he looked like—she gave me the widest eyes and pointed to my left to a wall with employees’ pictures on it. One of the pictures was a guy named Mike Vaughen, Age 35 and underneath it was a little banner with a newspaper article saying that Michael Allan Vaughen died at age 35 in a plain crash heading towards Georgia.” I looked at the date, and it said, "Jan 12th 1998."
I was 22 and living with my parents, and my boyfriend (now husband) was living with me, We both worked and were trying to save up for a house. We had about $6,000 saved, and we were looking at houses; almost all of them cost about $24,000 or more. One day, when I was off work, my aunt called and said that down the street there was a fixer-upper house for $8,000 and she would lend us some money to move down where she lived, Where my aunt lives is in the lower part of Georgia; we lived in Vermont, and the ticket prices would be really expensive, so my aunt paid for them as well, I told my mom the news and she fully supported the idea, so later I asked Jeff if he wanted to go. He told me he thought that sounded great.
We got plane tickets, and I was feeling really good about the whole idea of going to Georgia and living close to my aunt. We went to the airport (a fairly small airport). It was about 12:30 p.m. and our flight wouldn't be boarding till 1:30 p.m., so we had an hour to kill time. As the time got closer and closer, I began to feel increasingly overwhelmed, as I’m not a big fan of flying.
Finally, the intercom came on and said Flight 106 would be boarding in 15 minutes, so we knew that would be a great time to get our bags checked and get on board. Well, after waiting in line for about 10 minutes, I just started to feel nervous, thinking it's just because I'm getting on an airplane. I shook it off and handed my bags to the man checking them; when he finished, he whispered in my ear, "You will be safe."
He was about 6' feet tall, African American, brown eyes, and had no hair. His nametag said his name was Mike. After getting my bags back, Jeff took them out of my hands and boarded the plane. I suddenly felt ill and fainted and was sent to the hospital—come to find out the flight I was getting on crashed!
I went back to the airport and asked the lady at the counter if there was a guy named Mike working. Confused, she said, “Mike who?” Since I didn't know his last name, I explained to her what he looked like—she gave me the widest eyes and pointed to my left to a wall with employees’ pictures on it. One of the pictures was a guy named Mike Vaughen, Age 35 and underneath it was a little banner with a newspaper article saying that Michael Allan Vaughen died at age 35 in a plain crash heading towards Georgia.” I looked at the date, and it said, "Jan 12th 1998."
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