Plane crash = instant nausea and tears
The crowd stood with rapt attention, some yelling “No, no, no!” and “Oh my God!” I watched, transfixed, as the Thunder Mustang touched down, bounced, turned, slid off the runway, kicking up desert dirt and sage brush, and cartwheeled wing over wing to a crashing mix of metal and dust. Sirens blew as people screamed in chorus. The race continued overhead and the announcers prattled on while I sobbed, unable to focus my long lens to see what happened.
I make no bones about it. My favorite weekend* of the year is the Reno Air Races. Not only is it T’s birthday weekend, but it’s non-stop warbirds, fair food and celebration. I even blogged an ode to the races last year.
Well, it finally happened. Yesterday, I witnessed my first plane crash in person. And by plane crash, I mean utter airplane devastation. It. Was. Awful. Granted, the gentleman flying miraculously walked away with only bumps and bruises. But still, the experience was traumatic and I do not recommend it.
I don’t have much to say at this point as I’m still trying to process the awful imagery (click here if you want to see, too). But accidents like this remind me that life is fleeting and precious. And so, I heart you all and hope you are well. Please take a minute today to squeeze the ones you love, too.
* Clearly I have many favorite days in addition. You know, national holidays like Christmas and my birthday!
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