My brother and I were on our flight home from Kenya to Switzerland. We had just spent an exciting month visiting our parents in Nairobi, during which we had seen so much that it took us a long time after the trip to digest it all. This was only my second flight ever – the first one having been the flight from Switzerland to Kenya.

We had a stop scheduled in Cairo, because the Caravelle we were flying in couldn’t make it to Zurich without refueling. About an hour before getting there, the captain came on the intercom and informed us that we were going to fly a little of a detour westward, because Egypt and Israel were having some air skirmishes in the neighborhood of our planned route, and it was best to stay out of their way – no need to worry. This apparently was a routine occurrence in 1970. We’d have a few minutes’ delay, but on the upside, he said, this route would provide us with a better view of the Giza Pyramids on our approach to Cairo Airport.

And so it was: We got a very clear view of these impressive structures, just minutes before touching down at Cairo International Airport.

The plane was refueled, and soon we were airborne again, destination Zurich.

A couple of hours later, I started feeling an odd pressure in my ears, and then they popped. My brother turned to me and ask if I had felt that. We looked around, and I saw the passenger across the aisle starting to bleed from his nose. At the same time, the plane went into a fairly steep descent. Not so that it was jarring, but it was definitely noticeable, and many of the passengers did notice. The murmur of voices became a little louder, but there was not really a sense of alarm, even though a couple of other passengers noticed the man bleeding from his nose. Then the calm voice of the captain came on the intercom again: “Folks, we have lost some cabin pressure and have to descend to a lower altitude. We will be making an unscheduled stop in Rome. There is no need to be alarmed. The situation is not dangerous, but since we’re flying much lower, we are using more kerosene, and will need to refuel.”

Rome was not too far off, and we started the approach to Fiumicino Airport. The pilot flew a beautiful loop, right over the city center, and we got a nice, extended view of the Colosseum. We were flying quite low, and it seemed like we were getting an aerial tour of the Eternal City. A few minutes later – much to our surprise – we saw the Colosseum again. We had flown a full circle and were still at the same altitude. My brother and I took note, but we didn’t think about it any further, enjoying the view one more time.

When we saw the Colosseum for a third time, however, we started worrying. While not under emergency conditions, we were nevertheless in a plane that was not functioning properly and was coming in short on fuel. I would have thought that we would not be put in a holding pattern but granted immediate landing privileges. Something was up.

Then we noticed the plane lowering, straightening out, and we heard the routine announcement to prepare for landing. The Caravelle touched down smoothly. As it taxied down the runway, we noticed dozens of fire engines and other emergency vehicles with flashing red lights lining the outer perimeter. We were wondering if there had been an accident, and if that had been the reason for our delay in landing, but we couldn’t see anything.

We were asked to leave the plane and to take our carry-on luggage with us. Another machine would take us on our last leg to Zurich. On the way out, I asked one of the stewardesses (they were still stewardesses back then) if she knew what had happened. She said our landing gear had refused to deploy and the emergency vehicles had prepared to lay down a foam carpet for us, but then on the last turn over Rome, the gear did finally deploy – hence our uneventful landing.