I grew up the daughter of a pilot. It wasn’t until I was visiting a college roommate that I realized that “normal dinner time conversation” at other houses didn’t revolve around discussion of jet propulsion and Rolls-Royce engineered engines versus General Electric engines. Go figure. My Dad is still a pilot today, albeit not in a fancy fighter jet that allows him to channel Tom Cruise pre-crazy. Instead he shuttles people around, from business to vacation, vacation to business. A little of this and a little of that, sometimes in hot summer months and sometimes over the winter holidays. He jokes, calling himself nothing but a fancy taxi-cab driver or a heavy machinery operator.

Last week he was pushing a commercial plane back from a gate in San Diego when the forward flight attendant called and told him an emergency in the cabin necessitated they get back to the gate. Quickly. So he went, as fast as a fat bellied commercial airliner can go, and as soon as  he could he came out from behind the Kevlar door to a scene that was playing out like something from the latest Hollywood thriller. In the aisle lay an elderly man, bluish and not breathing while his wife stood, staring, mouth agape. Her husband was dying, in public, away from family on the peanut dust covered floor between rows 2 and 4. Somehow, in the midst of it all, three firemen and a nurse came forward, seamlessly and without effort. As my father stood, calling 911 and telling other passengers to remain calm and seated, and a flight attendant quietly cried in the galley, these four individuals pulled out emergency kits. Gauze. Syringes. Orders flew and vitals were shouted and my Dad said that seconds felt like hours but hours felt like seconds as they took turns pumping the man’s chest up and down, up and down, up and down. Paddles were applied and the rest of the 130 odd people sat, transfixed, quiet, as the four individuals spoke in a language no one else understood. The nurse rifled through supplies, handing things forward, needles, drips, medication. Eventually paramedics arrived, each slowly integrating themselves into the din of confusion, and as this man remained unconscious it was as though the tiny aisle of the plane- the one that never fits you and your bag without whacking someone in the kneecap as you make your way down- widened, allowing a total of 7 grown men and women access to the frail body of a man whose health was failing. A gurney was brought on, and suddenly, without reason or answer, the man began to pink up. He began to breathe, albeit labored, but his eyes fluttered open for a brief second and locked with those of his wife who was standing grasping the hand of a flight attendant.

As quickly as it all began the mess was gone and the passenger was wheeled off. My Dad retired his crew and requested new flight attendants, allowing the ones who had just kept an airliner calm in the height of emergency the privacy to break down. Passengers were given a quick break and the wife squeezed my Dad’s hand in thanks before following her husband to the waiting ambulance.

My Dad stepped forward, hesitant, and waiting for one of the firemen to introduce the rest to him. He wanted to shake these heroes hands, to hear about their years together and how it all transpired. Instead, the men stood in front of him just as expectantly. Waiting for him to begin the introductions. As he cleared his throat and began, the Captain of the ship, each man slowly introduced himself and his home town. It seemed that none of them had met before. They each just happened to be on the plane. They didn’t know the emergency room nurse either. They were all just…there….and came forward, bringing the gear they paid for themselves and burning through supplies without a thought of who was picking up the bill. There had been a convention in town, for firemen, and they were all just working their way home after a long weekend of learning and networking. It was simply fate that brought them, and their odd language of vital signs and medical jargon and smooth transitions between taking turns giving CPR on the same flight home, the same flight where a man all but died on the floor of the cabin, before suddenly coming back to life in front of a plane full of onlookers.

Sometimes, it seems, the world works in mysterious ways.