In the spring of 1992 I had the opportunity to travel to Omsk, Russia. I was part of the advanced crew that was sent to prepare for our adaptation of OUR TOWN to be put on in the Omsk Theater in Omsk, Siberia. While there were many things that made this trip memorable, the flight from Moscow to Omsk stands out. It’s not everyday a theater nerd like me finds himself convinced he is facing death.
The Omsk Theater arranged for a cargo plane to take us from Moscow to Omsk. We were assured that the cargo plane would be empty. They even said that the Omsk company masseuse would make the flight with us.
We learned quickly there were not going to be any in flight massages. There was no room. The cargo plane was in fact filled with cargo. Two cars, to be exact, filled the plane from cockpit to tail. The cars were pressed up against one side of the plane and on the other side were fold out wooded benches that had plenty of knee room if you were an emaciated 12 year old. None of us were. The Russian crew proceeded to load us into the cars for the trip. Picture if you will, three large Americans crammed into the back seat of a European sized car. That was the day I discovered I had claustrophobia. As the panic started to set in I calmly (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it) told them I had to get out of the car. I elected the lack of legroom over the lack of oxygen. So there I sat, with my knees pressed firmly into the side of the second car.
The Russian crew sat in the front smoking. About halfway through the flight we smelled gas. It became very overpowering. With the help of our interpreter we told them about the gas smell. With a heavy sigh, one of the Russians finally stood and headed to the back of the plane, his lit cigarette still dangling from his lips. It was at that perfect moment when I knew that this is how my story was going to end: in a giant ball of flame over the Siberian wilderness. Who would have guessed that I would go out in such a dramatic fashion? A faulty trap door in a set, I could see. A Phantom style falling chandelier would make sense. Getting a job on Spiderman the musical could be fatal. But going out in a giant ball of flame high over the Siberian wilderness was not something I’d worried about before.
Since you are reading this you’ve already guessed. We did not go up in a giant ball of flame. In fact it was all a bit anticlimactic. The Russian crew member calmly stuffed a rag in the hole that was supposed to have a gas cap. He went back to his fellow Russians, probably wondering why the Americans all looked so freaked out. What was for us a life threatening moment, was for him an interruption in his break.
sahbasan 