| Final Descent |
A Winter evening in Bellingham – wooden tables have been shoved together to
accommodate our crowd. Candles have been set on the table, each face illuminated by their
light. Russel’s hand is on my shoulder – he’s pouring me a beer with his other hand while I
tip my glass.
Debbie’s face catches the candlelight, smiling and gesturing as she talks with Noel. Tuck
has his arm around Aimee and is talking to Ryan. There’s five other people at the table.
Some are my close friends – others I know, but not as well. Almost everyone here will be
leaving for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to celebrate Ryan’s birthday.
In a little over a week most of them will be dead.
I remember a November afternoon, a Sunday much like today, twelve years ago. I was in
Russel’s apartment. Ryan, Debbie, Tuck, Aimee, Jim and Russel were all there. The sun is
a pale spot of brightness above Puget Sound and we’re all out on the deck roasting hotdogs
on the barbecue even though it’s very cold. Russel hands me a martini (my first), and
reaching up, I take it from him.
The image freezes there.
Russel pours me a beer, his arm on my shoulder. The image freezes.
A Boeing MD-83 jet appears suddenly from the haze, inverted, and plunges in the cold
waters of the Pacific Ocean. The image freezes.
I chose not to go. I was saving up for a trip to Russia.
Tuck and Aimee were going to go, but Aimee got sick at the last minute and they had to
cancel.
Noel was preparing to move to Portland, and chose not to go.
Everyone else is dead.
I can’t make sense of any of this – not then and not now.
I go back to the image of Russel’s hand on my shoulder as he pours me a beer. When he
finishes, I raise it and take a sip. His hand tightens on my shoulder. It’s a good last memory
of him to have, and I can stay here as long as I like.
Flight 261 crashed just north of Anacapa Island on January 31st, 2000. Those I knew on
board were Jim Ryan, Bradford Ryan, Deborah Penna, Ryan Busche and Russel Ing. The
face in the picture is Russel’s, drawn from memory.
The cause given for the crash was a malfunctioning jack screw, a device located in the tail
assembly.
accommodate our crowd. Candles have been set on the table, each face illuminated by their
light. Russel’s hand is on my shoulder – he’s pouring me a beer with his other hand while I
tip my glass.
Debbie’s face catches the candlelight, smiling and gesturing as she talks with Noel. Tuck
has his arm around Aimee and is talking to Ryan. There’s five other people at the table.
Some are my close friends – others I know, but not as well. Almost everyone here will be
leaving for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to celebrate Ryan’s birthday.
In a little over a week most of them will be dead.
I remember a November afternoon, a Sunday much like today, twelve years ago. I was in
Russel’s apartment. Ryan, Debbie, Tuck, Aimee, Jim and Russel were all there. The sun is
a pale spot of brightness above Puget Sound and we’re all out on the deck roasting hotdogs
on the barbecue even though it’s very cold. Russel hands me a martini (my first), and
reaching up, I take it from him.
The image freezes there.
Russel pours me a beer, his arm on my shoulder. The image freezes.
A Boeing MD-83 jet appears suddenly from the haze, inverted, and plunges in the cold
waters of the Pacific Ocean. The image freezes.
I chose not to go. I was saving up for a trip to Russia.
Tuck and Aimee were going to go, but Aimee got sick at the last minute and they had to
cancel.
Noel was preparing to move to Portland, and chose not to go.
Everyone else is dead.
I can’t make sense of any of this – not then and not now.
I go back to the image of Russel’s hand on my shoulder as he pours me a beer. When he
finishes, I raise it and take a sip. His hand tightens on my shoulder. It’s a good last memory
of him to have, and I can stay here as long as I like.
Flight 261 crashed just north of Anacapa Island on January 31st, 2000. Those I knew on
board were Jim Ryan, Bradford Ryan, Deborah Penna, Ryan Busche and Russel Ing. The
face in the picture is Russel’s, drawn from memory.
The cause given for the crash was a malfunctioning jack screw, a device located in the tail
assembly.