Outer Portside Engine On Fire

Outer Portside Engine On Fire

19 Aug 2300 hours

SQ 21 taxied out and readied for take-off. Somehow, it didn't feel right for me. I sort of knew it wasn't goodbye USA yet. I didn't think this flight was going anywhere. Not that it was particularly ominous - it was just a nagging feeling that New York still misses me. Of course, I kept my mouth shut.

This was a work trip and I am not going to carry the label of having hexed or cursed the plane with me. Anyhow, it was not my intention. And honestly, I knew I'd be fine - I've not done enough evil to go up in flames. Or down.

19 Aug After 2300 hours

We took off smoothly after the soothing plane safety video. Every time I watch the video, I laugh. How the hell would people be so calm when the plane gets depressurized so much that the oxygen supplies had to be provided by the aircraft? I mean, wouldn't there be so much turbulence and shakes and jolts that even grabbing your supply mask is like playing a game of catch? And where are the wailing babies? Even on an ordinary flight, there are times I wish I could SILENCE them! So when the plane drops so quickly, these brats are going to behave like well-brought up sedate models? Puh-leeze.

And then the part about putting on your life vest. Knowing Singaporeans, they will go, "Dunno the self-inflating device will work or not. Better try. If cannot, I better ask for a change..." *Kapoot. Foof!* The vests are inflated. Now see them duck walk to the emergency exits.

And of course, the safety ramp will be punctured after Mrs So-So jumps on because she inisted on putting on her stilettoes. There is no way her spa-ed feet are going to step on the dirty plane floors. Much less can she die without looking pretty. (I see myself stuck with this idea of high heels and dying pretty. I think the earthquake which caused the tsunami in 2004 must be the problem - concussion, I bet!)

I drifted to sleep as the plane took off. It was a light sleep. I know because I could feel the plane lift off. I kept my eyes shut and tried to get into a deeper slumber as the plane cut across the black blanket and gained altitude.

After a good while, the seat belt signs were still on. Sure, the pilot did mention that the New Jersey weather wasn't really that good and we were expecting turbulence, so he'll keep the seat belt sign on as a default. Fine by me, but this is a little too long. Normally, there would be noises to suggest that meals can be served.

So I pulled up my heavy eye lids and looked left.

19 Aug near midnight

The outer engine was on fire.

On fire.

Ok. On fire.

(Where are the exclamation marks? No need. Because the engine was just on fire what.)

So the fire raged and raged. It was a wonderful orange hue. There was no sparks. It was just like a tightly pulled orange cloth firing out from behind the engine all the way to the back of the aircraft.

The plane was still moving ahead. My Krisflyer screen was on Global Positioning System (GPS) Tracking mode.

The engine was burning and the aerofoils are still lowered. We are still gaining altitude.

So when we hit cruising altitude, when the foils are retracted, will the engine explode?

When will the engine explode? (I miss New York. When will this plane turn back?)

Or how about the engine falls off from the wing? (This way, we will definitely turn back?)

Nice, very nice, the fire. How about some pretty fireworks? Or the engine covers fall off?

Or maybe more fire?

Then there was some commotion. People were worried. Some began hyperventilating a little.

See, these are those with much negative karma. Me? I'm just waiting to return to Newark.

I begin to think where SQ will put me up when we turn around. Will it be the Marriott opposite the airport? I've seen it when I touched down. Will I get to stay there finally?

More fire, please! More fire!

"Fire! Fire!" Some passengers shouted, pointing at the engine. The stewardess sat stoic, facing opposite row 34 on the portside. She merely looked out and looked disinterested.

Hey, she must be thinking of her next trip to Century 21 (where I blew over US$200 in a 20-min shopping therapy outburst) the next morning. I may want to go back there and get myself a nice pair of jeans. Or two.

(Amazing how calm I am and how I am planning ahead of time, oblivious to all the crisis ahead, right? These were exactly my thoughts on the plane!)

Or maybe I'll sleep in. I really can do with another good sleep. Let's just see what happens.

Then someone stood up and walked forward. Can someone inform the pilot that the engine was on fire? Does the pilot know?

Only then did a senior crew member call the pilot.

"Turn it off. Turn it off!" Some moron yelled.

Yeah, right. So idiotic, right? Turn off and fly in circles ah? Stupid is as stupid suggests. Never mind. Let it burn, let it burn, let it burn.

What's the worst? The fire is not exactly spreading. It looks so pretty (the next night on my return flight, a New Yorker was telling me that she thought she was looking at a Boston sunset, which was so pretty. She sat beside me on the flight, so I hesitated to tell her one of my reasons for keeping a good distance from blondes or stupid looking red heads. Confirms my belief that there are blondes and there are blondes. Just like red heads. She was one freaking dumb red head. Hello! Boston sunset at midnight over Newark?)

So the call the made and the next thing I saw on the GPS, the plane turned westwards. It was supposed to move northwards till the north pole before turning at the polar altitudes. So it went two rounds in the air before the pilot came on the public announcement system to say that the aircraft is safe and the engineers are working on the engines.

By then the flames were gone. He has shut the engine. Shit! I miss my fire. Ok, next best bet - the engine drops off. Then I wondered where Oldwhig Al stayed. I know I've probably cleared the places where other US friends lived. I forgot where Al lived. I don't want no plane engine in his yard (even though the thousand degree heat might help his BBQ a little, but hey, that's still some debris to clear!). Ok, spare Al. Just turn around and we'll be all eternally grateful.

Three rounds later (the fifth round), the pilot came on and said, we are still working on it. My crew and I are discussing whether we should go ahead or turn back.

20 Aug Just past midnight.

This was quite about it for some people. I heard groans.

I went like, What? If you are not sure whether to go ahead or turn back, f**king turn back. Do you even need to THINK or DISCUSS? I mean, think about it, you'll be flying over open seas strewn with ice bergs along the Polar Route. Then it dawned upon me that it is also ok to carry on. No big deal. Even if the plane crashes, as long as you don't get blown apart or become disintegrated in the end, we'll all freeze (to death). Our watery graves will probably preserve us as well (think Titanic).

But I was quite sure I am dissed hearing those words of no wisdom. I mean, do you have to make people guess? It's another 18 hours into the wilderness and you don't even know if the plane can stay up. (The engine can go down, drop down, whatever, but the plane should not).

But I knew the decision was taken when I saw the pilot break out of the fifth circle and went further northwestwards.

You know, every time the plane reaches a particular part of the circle, there will be turbulence. Not very turbulent, but you could feel it shake a little. So when it flew further away, it didn't feel that bad.

And the announcement came that we are turning back after all. But, of course there's a but. How can there be no buts? Absolutely, positive, definitely will have a but somewhere. What else are you expecting? We are turning back but we can't land because we are overladen with fuel. We need to jettison fuel by flying aimlessly for another hour or so.

The plane then went in bigger circles, flying nearly up to the Canadian border before turning back. It was darn boring while we waited.

Finally, we were just under maximum landing weight. On the return journey back to Newark, the plane hit turbulence and the captain ordered all crew to be seated.

Not long later, a Singaporean woman pressed the bell for service.

No one attended to her, of course. We never know when the next turbulence will hit.

I got slightly worried now. What if they lowered the aerofoils for landing and the friction caused an explosion? It'll be so dumb to go down in flames after so long, won't it? I would feel that way.

Finally, the plane landed in Newark. On the runway behind where the plane landed, all available lanes were lined with fire trucks flashing their lights. It was like a scene from some kind of VIP landing.

The post-landing administration is another blog entry.