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Anxiety came into my life after a certain flight. Southwest into MDW.

We were below 10,000 feet. The sterile cockpit light was on. A man took his son to the forward lav. How dare he? Doesn't he know he shouldn't get up? On his way back, with his young son walking in front of him, our plane dropped. I grabbed my armrest. He grabbed onto his son, and they made their way back to their seat, clutching seat backs until they tucked into their row.

When I say the plane dropped, I mean dropped. I don't know how much. But, I do know that the engines powered up, and it seemed like we climbed back up a bit to regain the altitude we lost. Or at least that is my interpretation of the event.

The plane landed without incident. Steve never told me what could have been the cause, despite my effort to get an answer. His friend, however, told me it was probably wind sheer.

Now, I'm HYPER aware of engine noises. Sitting in front of the wing sounds different then sitting behind (obviously …

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