![]() “Jack isn’t actually dead, it turns out” she explained in a syrupy Southern accent. Witnessing my meltdown, a well-intentioned flight attendant told me a white lie: there was a sequel to the film. It confirmed what I thought I’d known, but somehow only knew for sure at the moment of watching Jack’s descent: death was not an if but a when. The scene sent me into an unmediated existential panic. ![]() Then it got to the part where Rose watches Jack sink to the bottom of the ocean. Titanic didn’t strike me as a strange selection at the time, given our parallel transatlantic voyage. I surreptitiously plugged my headphones in and sat, swaddled in my micro fleece blanket, transfixed by the drama. ![]() This was during the late 1990s, back when all passengers were subjected to one single projection. ![]() I was six years old on a flight from New York to London on which Titanic was the onboard movie. MY FIRST PANIC attack happened in the air. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |