Flying out of Belize in June, our plane either stalled or just went into a sudden deep dive. I'm inclined to believe it was a stall, but that's not important.

What's important is those last few minutes when I just watched my life end. At least, that is what I thought I was watching. In a window seat, unable to get up, probably unable to undo the seatbelt if it even occurred to me. Some might say "stunned", but my mind was perfectly clear, perfectly aware. I was watching the ground come towards me. I wasn't thinking much else, but I was aware.

After the first few minutes, I remembered that this was the ultimate test of spirit or humor. Could I laugh? No - I couldn't. I couldn't cry either. My heart beat fast, my mind was sharp, but my body was still, unsure of how to move or react anymore.

We pulled out of the dive. The people on the four flights today did not. They knew they were hijacked; they watched their own deaths approach them.

My heart goes to the people on the four hijacked flights tonight. I hope their spirits find peace.