The following was written by Stephen Kimber, author of the book Flight 111. It was published probably in the Halifax Daily News where he used to write a weekly column although I am not certain about the source. I had previously posted an excerpt from this in another thread but wanted to post it in its entirety.

Seeking sense

Retracing Swissair tragedy reveals little, and a lot

By Stephen Kimber

May 2, 1999. I looked around at the airplane full of strangers: eating,
reading, talking, sleeping, watching an inflight movie. It
was 10:31 p.m., Halifax time, eight months to the
day, hour and minute since Swissair Flight 111 crashed
into the waters off Peggy's Cove. No one around me
seemed to notice. Or care.
I was writing a book about
the crash. There were some interviews I needed to do
in Switzerland. It had seemed logical - to me anyway
- to take the same flight from New York to Geneva
the passengers of Flight 111 had taken. To see an
MD-11 up close. To observe the flight attendants going
about their routines as they had the night of Sept. 2,
1998.

For myself, I also wanted to try and make some sense
- if there was any to be made - of the
senselessness of it all.

"Would you care for some
champagne, sir?" the flight attendant asked as the plane taxied into position for takeoff.

Taking notice

It's funny what you notice when you notice. Usually on
a flight, I find my seat and bury myself in a book,
avoiding even eye contact with fellow travellers. Tonight,
I watched them board. Two hundred or more.
Backpackers, businesspeople. Young, old. Speaking a
smorgasbord of languages I didn't understand.
As the plane
rumbled toward Runway 13R, the one used by Flight 111,
the flight attendants passed out menus. At 8:18 p.m.
New York time - exactly the same time as Flight 111 -
Swissair Flight 139, as it was now benignly known, finally
thundered down that runway and up into the night
sky.

As the plane circled out over Long Island, the woman
seated next to me and I exchanged forgettable
pleasantries, and then she began to read the paperback she'd
bought for the flight. It was called The Notebook. I
wrote in my notebook. I didn't know who she was or why
she was going to Geneva. She knew the same about
me.

If this plane went down ...

Would our
families wonder - forever and for naught - what we said to
each other in our final moments? Would they somehow
become friends for no better reason than the serendipity
of an airline seating plan - and an airline
accident?

I should have called home. Before we took off. I'd
meant to. Listening to the families of those who'd died
on Flight 111, I'd been struck by the helplessness
of their pain at some last missed connection, at
having said something - or not - they could now never
change. I'd intended to call. But I hadn't. I was too busy making notes for my book.

What if?

The flight's first hour was remarkably unremarkable. Wine? This is your captain
speaking. First course. Thank you for flying Swissair.
Second course. Anything we can do to make your flight
more enjoyable? Dessert.
After dinner, we could
watch an inflight movie - a weepy, Hollywood flick
called Stepmom - on small video screens that dropped
down from the ceiling. One movie, no choice.

On
Sept. 2, 1998, there'd been plenty of choice. Seventeen
movies. From Titanic to As Good As it Gets.
Business-class passengers could select a movie and watch it on a
private screen that popped out of their chair's
armrest.

Some say that that's what killed Swissair Flight 111's
229 passengers: a sophisticated in-flight
entertainment system with too many choices and too many wires
and ... by the time I board this flight, the system
had long since been disconnected.

As Stepmom's
plot unfolded on the screen, I couldn't help but keep
glancing down at my watch as the minutes ticked inexorably
toward 10:31 p.m. ADT. And then it was over. In the end,
the moment was strange, surreal. No one else even
noticed it.

This flight continued on to
Geneva.

That one did not.

We are all captives of those
moments that change everything. We can't know when - or
how, or even if - they will happen to us, or someone
close to us. We can only try to live our lives
understanding that they might.

Tough lesson

If there is any sense in the senselessness of the crash of Flight 111, it may simply be that. We must live our
lives as if they could end in the next instant. But it
is a hard lesson to learn.
I meant to call home.
As soon as I landed.

I didn't.

Someone
was there to meet me at the airport. We got to
talking. I was tired. There was so much to do. And so
little time. Besides, it was too early in the morning to
call Halifax. And then, later, when I remembered
again, it was too late in the day to call.

There
would always be tomorrow.

In this case, it
turned out there was. But the next time?

Like the
moment, the sense I'd briefly thought I'd made of the senselessness of it all passed too.

This was interesting to read. I have read Mr. Kimber's book, which is OK, and has helped me better to understand what happened on the night that my sister died in Flight 111.

I find that 4 years plus after the accident, that I am still filled with constant thoughts about it, and what happened, and why it happened. I am still thirsty for information about the flight, and want to know everything. In a way, knowledge helps in dealing with the loss.

The frustration of not knowing things certainly adds to the pain. I feel frustrated that others get to know the contents of the investigation report before I do.

Ivy My deepest sympathy for the loss of your sister. I too share your concerns that family members are not allowed to see the draft report. Mark and I are trying to pursue it through available legal channels. It isn't just a matter of not being told of its contents but also that we are being denied the ability to comment or express our concerns regarding the draft. At any rate I think it is very unjust that family members are not permitted to see it. I just hope that the draft is consistent with the final report that we and the public are allowed to see. The lack of openness during this investigation has me very concerned.