[ WP ] Your beloved girlfriend is flying in to visit you and you plan to propose to her the moment she walks out of the arrivals gate , however after an unusual delay , you hear from a nearby television broadcast in an airport cafe that her plane is missing and never landed .

The mid-afternoon Sun pushed temperatures into the upper 70's as Matthew powered his SUV through airport terminal parking, sweaty nervous hands on the leather steering wheel. That nervousness, normally reserved for reckless airport drivers, was far in the back of his mind. Front and center, instead, was the question weighing on his mind. Will she or wo n't she? Does she or does n't she? There was no other thought in his mind as Matt parked his car and entered the airport. While he was certain of the question, he was far less certain of the answer. Distracted, he fingered the blue green box in his side pocket, resisting the urge to look at the turquoise ring centered inside of it. Maggie loved turquoise, and she loved the ring her grandmother wore even more. So when asking the family for Maggie's hand in marriage Grandma Jones, with a knowing smile on her face, gave Matt the ring. God, he loved Maggie's family, and he could n't wait to part of it. 
 
 Matt strode into the arriving flights terminal over an hour early. This was habit for him: he simply could n't help it. Whenever he was nervous he liked to arrive early. It was like a biological imperative; he simply had to see the lay of land before the most important moment of his life. `` 4 O'Clock'', he thought, terrified at the thought of a negative reply. Why? Because, simply put, Maggie was way out of his league. Not only was she beautiful, with porcelain ivory features and vivid blue eyes, but her intelligence had always been the talk of the small town Matt & Maggie had grown up in. And while advanced classes, skipped grades and academic contests were all something she excelled at, Maggie had a down to earth intelligence that made her easy to talk to. Everyone around her magically, felt special. 
 
 `` Way out of my league'', Matt reflected. 
 But he steeled himself. They had been dating for a year now, and they had had conversations about marriage before she went to Ireland. And while she had n't... objected to the idea, she had n't embraced it either. He was walking on a razor thin edge; but that's what love is. It was all about the chances we take, and the ones we leave behind. Well he wasn ’ t going to leave this stone unturned. 
 With 45 minutes before her flight landed, Matt reviewed how he wanted this proposal to go. Like an Army General planning a battle by considering each outcome, he thought about what he would do if she said `` yes'', and his heart would break. He also thought about what to do if she said `` no'', and how his heart would break. Either way this afternoon would be a real roller-coaster. 
 
 With so much time before the arriving flight Matt took a seat at `` The Pirates Cove'' aircraft bar, with TV's overhead. The bar had wood paneling with brass railings, and waitresses with striped shirts and suspenders, like they stepped out of some 16th century Austrian play. Matt reflected on the incongruity of German Pirates, while he ordered an Iced Tea. When the bartender brought the drink, he asked what the best way to track arriving flights was. The last time Matt had been to an airport was several years ago, and with the speed that technology was changing he fully expected to hear some new methods to track inbound flights. 
 `` Well, right across the hall on the wall is the Arriving / Departing flights board'', replied the bartender. `` But it's not as up to date as this phone app I have''. 
 He pulled out an iPhone and turned the screen towards Matt. 
 `` What flight number are you waiting for'', he prompted. 
 `` 689, in from Dublin. It's supposed to arrive in 40 minutes''. 
 He punched in the numbers on his phone and immediately flight information popped up, including a tiny world map showing the longitude and latitude of the plane. 
 Surprisingly, the plane as in the west Atlantic Ocean, somewhere east of Bermuda. Nowhere near New York, which is where it was supposed to be. 
 `` Why is the plane so far south?'' Matt asked. `` Is n't a plane from Ireland supposed to be much further north?'' 
 `` Sure, but they have the plane arriving in 40 minutes, just as you expected''. 
 Matt scratched his head and thanked the bartender, who went to help a tall blonde woman that sat at the bar. 
 With only 40 minutes to formulate a plan to propose, Matt started thinking about the various contingencies. 
 One, if the mood did n't feel right, he could simply not ask the question. The ring would remain in his pocket until he felt the time was right. 
 Two, If she did n't say yes right away, then something was wrong. 
 Three, if she said she needed to think about it, that meant no. No, he thought. That's over-thinking it. Crap, this is never going to go well. He was just going to have to wing it. 
 With only 30 minutes to the flight landing, Matt pulled out his iPhone. Searching the apple store, Matt found the app the bartender had used, and downloaded it. 
 Just like before Matt started the app, punched in the flight information, and waited for the flight information. The flight was just east of Miami, but still showed a 30 minute arrival. 
 That was impossible, Matt thought. There was something wrong with this app, so Matt took a look at the arrival / departure board just outside of the bar. 30 minutes, it agreed. 
 
 Matt went back into the bar and paid his bill. He was going to have to find a flight information stand to help understand what was happening. The information he'd seen just did n't make any sense, so he started searching through terminal's long halls for a help desk. 
 After a few minutes he arrived at the main terminal and found an airport attendee to help him. 
 `` Flight 689, from Dublin'', Matt asked the older woman manning the desk. `` Can you tell me if it's going to be on time? My phone app says that the plane is somewhere in the Caribbean'' 
 `` Those phones are always having some problem or another'', the woman responded, while quickly typing into her computer. `` It appears that plane is…just east of Miami''. She frowned, and called over her Supervisor. 
 `` Jezel, can you take a look at this incoming Ireland flight?'' 
 A tall African-American woman strode over and played with the keyboard. She too frowned, and dialed a number on her cell phone. 
 `` Control, we have a plane that is scheduled to land in 10 minutes that showing a current position of just east of Miami. It's flight 689 out of Dublin. Can you tell me what's going on?'' 
 
 Suddenly both airport workers froze, a scared and confused look on both faces. 
 
 `` What's the matter? ``, Matt asked. `` What's happened?''. 
 `` The plane has … disappeared from our radar'', said the older woman. `` It's like it never existed.'' 
 `` Control, are you reading this? ``, asked Jezel. `` Where did that flight go?'' 
 She listened intently and started scribbling some information on a pad. `` And are you sure about that?'' 
 As she hung up the phone, her eyes looked up at me from the pad, dispassionately and without emotion. 
 `` It's just disappeared off the radar, they're telling me. The plane was n't supposed to be that far south, but it appeared just off the coast of Florida''. 
 She could hardly believe she was saying the words, but she consulted her pad to make sure. 
 `` The plane is missing'', the supervisor said. `` It's last known position was over the Bermuda Triangle''. 
 
 Across the terminal, a news report blares out that a plane is missing and presumed downed west of Bermuda. Flight 689, they trumpet. The newscasters knew nothing about the flight other than where it took it off and where it was scheduled to land. And yet they could talk about that alone for hours. 
 
 Matt sat down, dazed, in one of the airport seats. Maggie's plane was missing.
