Why I Remain Optimistic About Malaysian Airlines Flight 370

Imagine, you prepare to get on a plane to visit a friend or to go on a short vacation, and though you consider the possibility of some tragic accident, the odds against you are stacked one in a million. You entrust your life in the hands of the pilots and a huge piece of flying machinery that sits tens of thousands of miles above ground but believe that in just a few hours you'll be at your destination and on to some R&R. But then...heavy turbulence—the pilot puts on the fasten seat belt sign which is enough to make your heart jump out of your chest, the plane shifts sharply in a different direction or changes drastically in altitude. And the only thing you feel is panic because this.is.the.end.

Well 13 days and not a shred of debris or useful information later, you, the plane and 238 other passengers are still missing and your family sits agonizing over your disappearance and the theories consulted experts have predicted.

-The transponder was turned off and the navigation system was rerouted, perhaps because of a mechanical fire.

-The pilot had a 777 simulator in his home which may or may not provide suspicion.

-The copilot's last words were "alright, good night"-- not the usual sign off of "one four niner zebra mango" or the usual cockpit lingo.

-The pilot may have looked for another airport to land at or the plane may have went down somewhere in the middle of the 2.24 million square nautical miles the search and rescue team now had to cover.

The last thing your family wants to do is come to grips with the idea that you may in fact be at the bottom of the ocean, because the information that has been provided, or lack thereof, still gives hope that the chance of survival is still a possibility.

The mystery of this flight’s disappearance is both scary and devastatitng. The thought that it could happen to any flight made me think of when I once got on a plane and took a trip without telling my parents exactly where I was going. I just said "Hey, I'll be back in a few days. I'm going to visit some former interns for a mini reunion, no worries." The lie didn't sit well with me but the one hundred questions they asked about the reunion let me know they would ask 5x that many if I came out with the truth. The ride there was smooth but the ride back was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Bouncing up and down in altitude, I just knew we would fall right out of the sky and my life would be over. And what stuck with me the most was the fear that I might find myself dead on a plane and the last thing I told my parents would have been a lie. I made a promise that I would never hop on a plane without telling my parents the truth if the good Lord just got me back to JFK in one piece.

What if my flight had been the one that disappeared or if my pilot had steered off course?

For the sake of optimism, I find it easier to remain hopeful that someway, somehow, these 239 lives on Flight 370 are on some deserted island in the middle of the ocean. I stay just as hopeful as if I knew someone on the plane—as if my friend had gone missing without a word and optimistic that she is sitting on the edge of an island eating a coconut with her pretend friend Wilson and the letters SOS written out with whatever seashells and rocks she could find. Because isn't that easier to believe after all. Hopefully the plane is found, wherever it may turn up so these families can get some closure. My prayers go out to everyone involved.

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