The Chronicles of Marna

Last year while boarding a flight home mere days after the US Airways jet landed in the Hudson River, all my senses were on high alert. After cinching my seatbelt snugly, I memorized where the emergency exits were–five rows behind and five rows ahead of me–in case I needed to grope my way blindly in the dark. Considering it was 10 A.M., this may have been overly cautious, but you never know.