So we take off from Toronto Pearson airport, where we had flown to from Halifax, to connect with our flight to San Jose. We get up in the air, everything is going smoothly, and then we kids in the back get pissed because the TV isn't working. Why the stewardesses take this as something horrible, we don't know, next thing we know they are rushing to the cock pit, and something very very very bad is going to happen, or at least I can assume. At this point I have my barf bag open, read to puke my guts up, which never did happen. But I felt sick, like sick sick. After 20 or so minutes of worry without a word from the flight attendants, we find out that we are headed back to Toronto airport because our main engine has failed, but not to worry folks because it is possible to fly with one engine. Oh and the emergency vehicles on the ground are nothing to worry about. Ok, then why are the flight attendants crying and calling their husbands. THAT'S MY VERY FIRST INQUIRY! And then when we dump out the fuel finally and land without dying, my second question is just how close were we to dying because to my right I can see 5-8 fire trucks, 5 cop cars and three ambulances. Apparently we were supposed to catch on fire. I had FINALLY gotten over my fear of flying, and then this happens. Best part, only a mere hour later did we have to get back onto one to head to Costa Rica.