ALITALIA FLIGHT 7603 FROM NEW YORK TO MILAN: Crystals, Valium and sound advice for female travelers

"NERVOUS FLYER," I THINK to myself as I strain my eyes to inconspicuously watch the woman on my left.

She takes a small object out of a little woven drawstring bag and begins methodically rubbing it, with closed eyes while she rocks in her cramped airplane seat. It’s not until she dangles it from a short fishing line and swings it hypnotically back and forth that I realize the object is a rectangular clear crystal.

After a minute or two the woman turns to me, “It tells me we will not take off.”

Although my initial reaction to the future telling powers of a rock would normally be skeptical, I had already endured four hours and two failed trips to the runway on a plane full of hungry, tired passengers. I am in desperate need of some sort of explanation or definitive resolution, regardless of the source.

I let out an exasperated sigh, audibly accepting the possible truth of her statement. Half out of boredom and half out of curiosity I point to her clenched fist and ask, “How does it work?”

It is as if I asked her how babies are made. An expression of discomfort and surprise takes over her face. Taking a deep breath, she sits back in her seat.

I am ready to give up all hope of finding an answer when she turns back to me and slowly replies in her thick Swiss accent, “I ask it question and it tell me yes or no.”

Ten minutes later we are taxiing for a third time to the runway. The pilot has reassured the passengers that after refueling a second time, the crew has fixed the problem.

As the relieved passengers chat in excitement, the woman turns to me once again and asks, “Are you nervous?”

Obviously at this point my nerves are enough to potentially fill a vomit bag but right away I reply, “No.”

“I am. I have bad feeling. This flight,” she says, pointing at the plane’s cockpit while nodding her head in assurance. She closes her eyes and crosses her fleshy arms across her dragonfly patterned linen dress. “There is something wrong with plane still. I have feeling.”

“Could I ignore these potential final words,” I wonder as the plane engines emit their deafening roar. “Was this sense of doom and feeling of helpless dread common to all plane crash victims?”

What to do? Vomit? Freak out and get off the flight? Join forces with the crystal lady and demand they check the plane again?

With no other option, I opt for Valium and cover my head with the navy-colored plane blanket. A slow death due to suffocation from a stale smelling felt square won’t be so bad.

I am awakened by the sound of applause from the passengers, an unnecessary and extravagant gesture that never fails to cause personal humiliation. I rush off the plane to catch my connecting flight.

As I say a hurried farewell to my seatmate she leaves me with one lasting piece of advice, “Good luck with life. Whatever you do don’t get pregnant too young.”

With a nervous laugh, I assure her this was not the plan and wave goodbye, hoping it was the crystal that advised her to give such a warning.

- Philly Petronis