I never believed that plane crashes happen the way they are shown in the movies. No bursting windows, loss of pressure, crying women, bleeding men and fire and seats whirling around and please remain seated and stay calm. None of that. No, my idea was rather different. I imagined the whole scenery to be peaceful and quiet. A simple click, no dramatic breakdown of the machines. Just as if the pilot simply decided to turn off the turbo-jets, then silence. Everyone would look calmly at each other and feel the rising pressure that pushes the entrails back to the spine and up to the diaphragm, unable to grasp the significance of that very moment. No sound or smell would disrupt everyone's undirected concentration. And while time and space lose all points of reference and spread out into infinity, all would be meditative waiting for the moment they shrink back to the smallest possible point.

Now that I know that this idea is the most accurate description anyone could give, let me begin and tell you about what happened on my last flight.

It all began after the check-in at the Frankfurt Airport. I didn't get too much sleep the night before and was in desperate need of a coffee to bring me back to life. When I finally got hold of a hot cup of coffee I couldn't wait for it to cool down and immediately gulped it down. It burned my tongue, but made me wake up, eventually.