It was a hazy Friday morning, 3 days after the World Trade Center crumpled to the ground. I found it easier to take that I was watching my favorite TV mini-series “Early Edition” where Kyle Chandler failed to receive tomorrow’s newspaper the day before the incident, hence the tragedy. Whereas I, remained on my routine life as an average citizen in a 3rd world country getting in tune at the rhythm of the issues and the current issue of my personal concern, the day’s flight. I was halfway doing pre-flight inspection on a government-owned helicopter and have advanced to wipe the windshield when I was caught at difficulty clearing red splotches scattered at the upper edge of the frame. Bug strikes, lining up the upper edge of the rim. I didn’t quite understand why insects do have blood in their system enough to paint an inch diameter of space on the windshield with red stains. Or should I theorize mosquitoes sucking blood from humans and animals ascending 100-500 ft. above to avail of an exotic death. Consider a flying insect moving at an average velocity of 5-10 km/hr colliding head-on with a flying object a thousand times bigger travelling a hundred times faster. The red stains on the windshield speak for itself, instant death. If bugs have souls to be aware what hit them they may never have known crossing the boundary between life and after. But who cares about bugs?

I checked the fuel level after connecting the battery and drained the fuel tank for moisture content. The engine oil and hydraulic fluid levels are within minimum, the fuel and oil lines are clear of signs of leakage. I climbed my way at the side of the turbine engine and conducted a visual check at the three-bladed main rotor for dents and found it in shape. I closed the engine cowling and placed the equipments at the cargo hold but my mind was still holding on to the notion out of the TV image that caught my eyes on a Tuesday evening. How did 92 souls perished on board a twin-engined Boeing 767 slamming fast at the speed of a commercial airliner travelling an average 950 km/hr sped up by the crash dive on a 110 storey concrete skyscraper? I left my imaginings as I took charge of towing the aircraft outside the hangar for flight. The September breeze was cool to the feel, I was clad in flying suit and was standing beside the chopper on another day of my life as an aircraft mechanic as I’ve did in the last 3 years. There was the typical hiss of the igniter moments after the pilots took their seats and the turbine roared into life. The main rotors turned clockwise and disappeared into thin wisps of gray. I closed the compartments and climbed on the passenger seat sealing the final access behind my entry strapping on the seatbelt. I watched the ground recede from view as we hovered and gained altitude. We cruise above domestic airport and blended with the smoggy skyline above the Metropolis.