gov. mike pence<u+2019>s rocky landing on thursday night at la guardia airport <u+2014> the campaign plane skidded off the runway, and emergency crews scrambled to the scene in a driving rain <u+2014> certainly lends itself as an apt metaphor for donald j. trump <u+2019>s entire presidential run: chaotic, turbulent and skittering just on the edge of disaster. is it too soon to call in the department of clich<u+00e9>d political symbolism? maybe. but not for those of us who have spent the past few months traveling with the trump-pence campaign. the bumpy skies. the nose-to-window sharp banking approaches. the rough landings. the reporters who cover the republican ticket are all too familiar with the choppy times aboard what we call hair force one (and hair force two, in the case of the indiana governor). even before thursday<u+2019>s botched landing, reporters on the pence plane had become so acquainted with touching down hard <u+2014> and sometimes bumping more than once <u+2014> that they<u+2019>d begun to joke that the <u+201c>pence plane veers off the runway<u+201d> story was already written. and given mr. pence<u+2019>s demonstrated self-discipline, especially when compared with his running mate, it seemed that an accident would be the only news to ever emanate from the pence plane. reporters who regularly fly on mr. trump<u+2019>s press plane had also begun to joke after a series of particularly turbulent flights that the coup de gr<u+00e2>ce of the most media-bashing campaign in modern memory would be some sort of crash landing. there was the evening when we buzzed the world trade center so closely on our approach into la guardia that i wondered if the national guard were preparing to shoot us down. (the view from almost directly above the building<u+2019>s spire, however, was stunning.) later, on that same flight, we pressed ourselves to the window to gawk as we seemed to nearly clip a series of high-rises in queens. there was the trip last week, when we <u+201c>overshot<u+201d> la guardia on a misty night, then circled back to find that fog had closed the airport. we returned to pennsylvania, where we had just left, to refuel and, as the captain informed us, <u+201c>figure out a plan.<u+201d> ultimately, we gassed up, sat on the tarmac until la guardia reopened and arrived at our hotel well after midnight. on saturday, while preparing to take off for a rally in phoenix, passengers were given a cryptic warning: something was amiss in the flight deck that they <u+201c>wouldn<u+2019>t like.<u+201d> (after sitting idle for nearly 40 minutes, the plane took off and reached its destination.) and there was the day we hit the runway so forcefully that a flight attendant seemed to channel our collective mentality when she murmured softly, <u+201c>that is not how you land the bird.<u+201d> the only reliable thing about the wi-fi on the flights, which often cost several thousand per leg, is that it won<u+2019>t always work. the bathroom lock is faulty <u+2014> or maybe that<u+2019>s operator error. (either way, i would again like to apologize to the daily mail reporter who accidentally walked in on me.) of course, commercial air travel is no picnic these days, either, and the crews on our private charter have always done the most important job: getting everyone to the ground in one piece. no one was hurt on thursday, and preliminary data indicates that the devices that slow a plane upon landing had deployed a little too late on mr. pence<u+2019>s flight. there is also something egalitarian about traveling on a campaign plane. sure, there are literal and figurative barriers and walls, and a clear hierarchy <u+2014> the candidate sits in the front with his or her staff, followed by the secret service, then the press, sprawled out in the back. there is nothing like a fishtail of a landing, after all, to quickly eliminate the distance between first class and coach. mr. pence immediately strode to the back of the plane to check on his traveling press corps. would mr. trump have done the same? no one will ever know. breaking with tradition, as he has done so many times during the campaign, mr. trump refuses to fly with his press corps and instead favors his private jet, complete with golden seatbelts. his reporters go on their own charter. federal aviation administration guidelines are rarely strictly enforced on these private planes <u+2014> seatbelts loll unbuckled, reporters peck away on laptops as we shoot skyward <u+2014> and the attitude is often one of laissez-faire amid the daily grind of a presidential campaign. the airborne hours between rallies and speeches can offer a respite from editors <u+2014> a safe space to unwind and relax among fellow road warriors <u+2014> and, in the best of cases, a chance to get to know the candidate and the staff just a bit better. then, of course, the landing gear groans in descent and, as thursday night<u+2019>s near-crisis reminded us, everyone is rocked back to earth. nick corasaniti contributed reporting. find out what you need to know about the 2016 presidential race today, and get politics news updates via facebook , twitter and the first draft newsletter .
it<u+2019>s on the nose: turbulence often strikes the trump-pence planes
ashley parker