When Lightning Strikes

I'm glad this happened, mainly because I was going to write about the play I half saw last night but walked out on at interval, not because it was bad, but because I was falling asleep and I didn't see the point in staying. (The Shiralee is on at the Drama Theatre at the Opera House until 29 November - give it a go - it's good, just not what I needed last night - I had a book and a bathtub at my disposal). 

So maybe this is divine retribution for walking out on a play at the interval. Maybe it was another thing to add to my cosmic bucket list like being on the receiving end of an earthquake on my birthday (in Bali for my 50th) or standing behind Emma Thompson in a supermarket queue (she's shorter than you think) or walking past an IRA bomb in a bin down Camden Hight Street a few minutes before it went off in the 90s. 

Or maybe it way my own fault for trying to sneak a very small pocketknife onto the plane and this was my retribution. It was there by mistake when I went up to Sydney yesterday - nothing got said, but security spotted it on the way back. Again, no harm done - I checked the bag into the hold with no problem. The security bloke was nice about it when I fessed up that there might be the very small pocketknife in there and I'd be happy to check the bag. See, it's a good thing to be friendly and pleasant and to own your small misdemeanors. 

Anyway, whatever it was, I've ticked off another existential bucket list item. 

The plane that was carting me back from Sydney was struck by lightning. On the wing. About three meters away from where I was sitting.

Disconcerting? Yes.

Problematic? Thankfully, no. 

There was, in the words of Jean Luc Besson, BIG BADDA BOOM! And a bright flash of light and some bumps. Over in a millisecond.  And some more bumps and a lot of worried people, but the engines kept on, and after a few minutes, the pilot came on over the Tannoy to say that yes, we'd be struck by lightning, and no, there were no issues to the plane, and that everything was fine and that planes, being big Faraday cages, were designed to take lightning strikes and that we'd be landing in about ten minutes. 

This was a very good thing - the pilot coming on to explain that all was well. Kudos to Qantas pilots. They're great. 

Considering the number of times I've come in and out of Darwin in the Wet Season, I'm amazed it hasn't happened before. I'm also pleased we were on a bigger plane - I'd hate to be in a bug zapper and have that happen. 

The woman sitting beside me was also a frequent flyer for work. Neither of us in our regular travels had been on the receiving end of lightning. The way I chose to see it was there wasn't smoke pouring from the engine, and the pilot seemed happy enough, so all was well. No harm done. 

We landed then minutes later. 

There was a traveling air crew member in the seat in front of us, transferring before joining an international flight. She said she was a bit rattled. After 17 years of flying a couple of times a week, this was the first time she's seen a lightning strike. 

But that's my story. I got hit by lightning today - sort of. 

I wonder what the next thing on my list of crazy will get ticked off?

Today's song: