By the way...since I got the end of the story today in the
paper, I thought I'd pass this along as a follow-up to the Icon
On Sunday late afternoon, I finished my last presentation and
got into the car to head back to the hotel to pack. Robert Kaiser,
escort and driver assigned by the con, was driving the van and can
verify what follows. We were about halfway to the hotel, on the
freeway, when I heard this very loud engine right outside, like a big,
loud motorcycle trying to pass. I looked to the left, nothing. Looked
to the right and behind. Nothing.
Then I looked forward...and saw two airplane wheels coming down
over the edge of the window.
In any international language you can name, this is the symbol
for You Are Now In Serious Guano.
A private plane was literally about five feet above the van.
And coming down. Fast.
It got a little ahead of us, because it was still moving fast,
and it was obviously looking to try and put down on the freeway.
Something was wrong. It was about three or so car lengths ahead now,
but there wasn't room to put down, too many cars. It suddenly lurched
down. "It's going to hit the deck right in front of us," I realized.
Then it abruptly pitched up again, as a bridge appeared in front of us,
and banked away to the right.
The last I saw, it was banking and descending behind a line of
trees, apparently looking for somewhere, anywhere to set down before
the plane gave out.
I didn't want to say anything until I knew the fate of whoever
was flying it; happily, according to newspaper reports, the three
passengers of the plane were injured when it crashed into the side of a
nearby house, but not killed. They were taken to the nearby Medical
Center at Stony Brook, there in Long Island, and are now recovering.
Took us a while to calm down. After all the other adventures of
the convention...they threw a plane at us. And almost got us...within
five feet, to be precise. Had it gone down just roughly ninety seconds
before it did, I would almost certainly not be here to write this.