Ruined For Straight and Level
“Been inverted yet?” the pilot asked casually, as though he weren’t trying to impress me.
“Nyet,” I tossed back more casually than he, if that were possible.
“I’ll take you flying some time, if you want to go.” The offer was there. One of the best things about ramp rat life was the airplane rides. One of? Right, THE best. The lime green Super Decathlon shimmered invitingly in the afternoon sun. My eyes glittered. Pretty little fabric covered flippy toy, that super D. As if I weren’t dying to, lusting after the machine, desperately curious about what it could do, I negotiated a day and a time.
My coworkers assured me that they’d all been flying with the guy in question. “Good pilot, so go have fun, kid. Go nuts. Don’t barf.”
Wait, “Don’t barf?!?”
On the appointed day, I rolled up to the hanger in my rattletrap jalopy. I wasn’t sneaking up on anybody in that thing. And simple as that, we buzzed off into the wild blue yonder. Up, up, and away. And around. And back. And upside down, right side up, and around andaroundandaround! I hung from the harness and watched the ground and the sky switch places. He showed me how to push when I wanted to pull so I could fly straight and level while inverted. I was intrigued. He helped me through a couple of rolls. I was fascinated. He showed me a loop and I was hooked for life. In the middle of some maneuver or other, I committed myself to the desire, the need to learn aerobatics sooner or later.
I’d like to say I came to my senses when my feet came back to earth, but it just isn’t so. I took some lessons, but it was a serious stretch to afford them. I’m still waiting for the part of my life where I can start back in on this long delayed love affair with all things aerobatic. It seems that I’m a hopeless romantic and have chosen, against all reasonable counsel, to take the long slow road that involves hours, weeks, months, and years of hanging around at airports in one capacity or another and trying to get paid for it. Part of me wishes I’d been a touch more mercenary when I was young and chosen a career that would have gotten me the money to buy that dream long before now. The rest of me is glad to the core that even if takes forever, I’m earning it. One. Hour. At a time.
