Unit-7-When-Lightning-Struck-课文翻译-综合教程一

Unit 7 When Lightning Struck

I was in the tiny bathroom in the back of the plane when I felt the slamming jolt, and then the horrible swerve that threw me against the door. Oh, Lord, I thought, this is it! Somehow I managed to unbolt the door and scramble out. The flight attendants, already strapped in, waved wildly for me to sit down. As I lunged toward my seat, passengers looked up at me with the stricken expressions of creatures who know they are about to die.

"I think we got hit by lightning," the girl in the seat next to mine said. She was from a small town in east Texas, and this was only her second time on an airplane. She had won a trip to England by competing in a high school geography bee and was supposed to make a connecting flight when we landed in Newark.

In the next seat, at the window, sat a young businessman who had been confidently working. Now he looked worried. And that really worries me—when confident-looking businessmen look worried. The laptop was put away. "Something's not right," he said.

The pilot's voice came over the speaker. I heard vaguely through my fear, "Engine number two ... emergency landing ... New Orleans." When he was done, the voice of a flight attendant came on, reminding us of the emergency procedures she had reviewed before takeoff. Of course I never paid attention to this drill, always figuring that if we ever got to the point where we needed to use life jackets, I would have already died of terror.

Now we began a roller-coaster ride through the thunderclouds. I was ready to faint, but when I saw the face of the girl next to me, I pulled myself together, I reached for her hand and reassured her that we were going to make it, "What a story you're going to tell when you get home!" I said. "After this, London's going to seem like small potatoes."

I wondered where I was getting my strength. Then I saw that my other hand was tightly held by a ringed hand. Someone was comforting me—a glamorous young woman across the aisle, the female equivalent of the confident businessman. She must have seen how scared I was and reached over.

"I tell you," she confided, "the problems I brought up on this plane with me sure don't seem real big right now." I loved her Southern drawl, her indiscriminate use of perfume, and her soulful squeezes. I was sure that even if I survived the plane crash, I'd have a couple of broken fingers from all the TLC. "Are you okay?" she kept asking me.

Among the many feelings going through my head during those excruciating 20 minutes was pride—pride in how well everybody on board was behaving. No one panicked. No one screamed. As we jolted and screeched our way downward, I could hear small pockets of soothing conversation everywhere.

I thought of something I had heard a friend say about the wonderful gift his dying father had given the family: he had died peacefully, as if not to alarm any of them about an experience they would all have to go through someday.

And then—yes!—we landed safely. Outside on the ground, attendants and officials were waiting to transfer us to alternative flights. But we passengers clung together. We chatted about

the lives we now felt blessed to be living, as difficult or rocky as they might be. The young businessman lamented that he had not a chance to buy his two little girls a present. An older woman offered him her box of expensive Lindt chocolates, still untouched, tied with a lovely bow. "I shouldn't be eating them anyhow," she said. My glamorous aisle mate took out her cell phone and passed it around to anyone who wanted to make a call to hear the reassuring voice of a loved one.

There was someone I wanted to call. Back in Vermont, my husband, Bill, was anticipating my arrival late that night. He had been complaining that he wasn't getting to see very much of me because of my book tour. I had planned to surprise him by getting in a few hours early. Now I just wanted him to know I was okay and on my way.

When my name was finally called to board my new flight, I felt almost tearful to be parting from the people whose lives had so intensely, if briefly, touched mine.

Even now, back on terra firma, walking down a Vermont road, I sometimes hear an airplane and look up at that small, glinting piece of metal. I remember the passengers on that fateful, lucky flight and wish I could thank them for the many acts of kindness I witnessed and received. I am indebted to my fellow passengers and wish I could pay them back.

But then, remembering my aisle mate's hand clutching mine while I clutched the hand of the high school student, I feel struck by lightning all over again: the point is not to pay back kindness but to pass it on.

闪电来袭

当我感到猛烈摇晃时我正在飞机尾部的小卫生间。然后又感到一个可怕的、倒向另一侧的摇晃，并使我撞上了门。主啊！我想。这就是了。不管怎样，我设法打开拉门冲了出去。乘务员们都已经把自己捆在椅子上了，使劲向我挥手。要我坐下来。当我费劲的快步朝椅子走去时，乘客们都看着我，他们惊恐的表情告诉我，他们知道他们要死了。

“我想飞机被闪电击中了，”坐在我邻座的女孩说道。她来自东得克萨斯州的一个小镇。而这只不过是她第二次坐飞机而已。她在高中地理友好赛中获胜，由此获得了去英国的旅行，她本该在我们抵达纽华克后转机继续飞行的。

在她旁边靠窗的座位上坐着一个年轻的商人，他一直信心百倍地工作着。现在他看起来很担心。而那真的也让我感到担心——当一直充满自信的人担心的时候。他把手提电脑收了起来。“有些事情不对劲儿，”他说道。

扬声器里传来飞行员的声音。透过恐惧我听得很模糊，“二号引擎…紧急降落…新奥尔良。”他说完后乘务员就接了过来，提醒我们发生紧急情况时应采取的程序，就是起飞前她曾经复习过一遍的。当然我从来没有注意过这个操作，总是想如果我们到了需要用救生衣的地方时，我早就已经被吓死了。

现在我们在雷雨层中像过山车一样翻转着，我都快晕了，但是当我看见坐在我旁边的那个女孩的脸，我就控制住了我的感情，我握住她的手，使她确信我们将会穿越雷雨层。“你想想当你到家时，你会告诉大家一个怎样的故事啊！”我说，“过了这事之后，伦敦看起来就

像个小土豆一样不那么重要了。”

我在想我哪来的这股力量，然后看见我的另外一只手被一只带戒指的手紧紧地抓住。某人正在安慰我——是过道那边一位有魅力的年轻女士，和那个自信的商人一样。她肯定是看到了我有多么害怕后过来的。

“我跟你讲，”她充满自信地说，“我在这架飞机上所谈论的问题，现在看起来没什么大不了的。”我喜欢她南部的拖腔，她不加区别使用的香水味，还有她用那充满感情的双手使劲地掐着我。我确信即使我躲过了这场坠机劫难，也有几根手指被她温柔地掐断了。“你还好吗？”她不停地问我。

在那极其糟糕的20多分钟里，我的脑海里经历的许多情感交织在一起就是自豪——自豪飞机上每一个人表现得有多好。没有人惊慌。没有人喊叫。当我们抖动着尖叫着俯冲时，我随处可听见安慰的话语。

我想起一个朋友告诉我的关于他濒临死亡的父亲带给整个家庭的一个礼物：他平静地逝去，似乎不想让他们任何一个人因为将来都必须经历的这件事，而感到恐慌。

然后——是的！——我们安全降落。在外面，乘务员和官员们正等待着将我们转送到换乘航班。但是我们这些乘客都挤在一起，我们谈论着生活，对于活着感到幸运。尽管前面还可能荆棘坎坷。那个年轻的商人对于没有机会给两个小女儿买礼物而感到伤心。一位老妇人就给了他一盒贵重的“Lindt巧克力，没打开过的，上面系着漂亮的蝴蝶结。“无论如何，我都不应该吃掉它们，”她说。我的那位有魅力的过道女士拿出她的手机递给每一位想打电话的人，因为他们想听见所爱的人的放心的声音。

我想给一个人打电话。他在佛蒙特，那天晚上期待着我的到来，是我的丈夫比尔。他一直在抱怨因为我的签名售书旅行而不能经常见到我。我本来计划早几个小时到以给他惊喜。现在，我只想让他知道我很好并且还在路上。

当最终叫到我的名字让我去登机时．我几乎快落泪，因为我正要离别这些强烈感染过我的生命的人，尽管很短暂。

即使现在，又回到了结实的土地上，走在佛蒙特的街上，我有时听到飞机声，还会抬头看看那微小的发光金属。我记得那个影响深远的幸运航班并且希望能对那天见到的给予那么多仁慈行为的人们致以感谢。我深深地感谢那些乘客并希望能够报答他们。

但是，每当回忆起过道女士抓着我，而我紧握着那个高中生的手时，我感到再次被闪电击中：重要的不应是报答而是传承仁爱。

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