Up Up and Away
I remember the day my company no longer needed me. Knowing life would never be the same.
In class I befriended another writer, a pilot who performed aerial acrobatics at events across the country. We had great conversations. He seemed to be living on the edge flying 800 mph with his hair on fire. His face lit up as he told stories of daring and precision, and even some crazy ass luck along the way. It gave new meaning to living in the present and the thrill of being alive.
Not long after, a friend surprised me with a birthday gift of an acrobatic flying lesson from him. Always a lover of bumps and roller coasters, this sounded like great adventure and I was psyched.
Nothing, however kills an adventure faster than false starts. Twice I scheduled my flight and twice giant storms bubbled up over the mountains gaining speed heading toward the little country air strip with thundering cracks of lightning. Finally, the third time was the charm, though less than ideal as we dodged raindrops on the way to the strip. Many surprises were still to be discovered.
First, my writing friend was pulling ground control duty which meant I was going up with his partner, a tall lanky dude I’d never met who’s aw-shucks preflight briefing included the various effects of G-forces on the body – everything from motion sickness to, on rare occasion, passing out. Next was the 2-minute safety drill (pull this cord, not that cord, good luck) as I donned what appeared to be a giant WWII parachute. Parachute? And of course, what briefing would be complete without the use of toy airplanes and sfx to simulate the maneuvers we’d be doing.
It seemed like a lot of prep for a 1-hour ride. I flinched a bit when he clarified that this was a flight ‘lesson’ meaning I’d be in the pilot seat. Wait, what? Again, I said I only wanted to ride but after a 20-minute wait for a clearance in the rain clouds, I hear, ‘let’s go.‘
He said we’d be aiming for that little clearing to the NW and I gave a silent wave to the cows as we taxied to the end of the runway. Then with a boyish grin he turned to me and said, c’mon, take the stick, you can be the pilot today. OMG.
Decision time. Take the stick or wimp out cuz there was no going back. True, there were a million reasons to say no but as a bead of sweat slowly trickled down my back I thought, why not? I can do this, so I pushed in the throttle, pulled back the stick and headed up, up and away!
Swerving a bit from side to side on take off, I felt the plane gather under me as I found my groove. The 180° view from the cockpit provided an up close and personal feel as we flew low, really low, buzzing the local livestock. Slowly, my nerves began to subside as the plane responded to the slightest changes in pressure or angle I made. OK, not bad.
That joyful bliss dimmed when it was time to stall the plane. Stall, as in no-go? Edging ever slower we climbed higher and higher, and when the plane finally stalled, the nose tipped down and sheer terror gripped my body as we dove like a rocket straight towards the ground. Beside me I hear a calm, twangy voice say, pull up, pull up so, with both hands, I grabbed that shaking stick holding on with all my might to level off. It's amazing what you can do in the moment when there’s such clarity.
By now I sensed a rhythm, a flow happening. I surrendered the controls after that, and he took the plane deftly through its maneuvers. There was no time for second-guessing up there, only trust.
I loved the whole experience. Pulling Gs, doing loops and rolls, even the uncertainty was ok because flying gave me a sense of freedom. I’d never even sat in the pilot seat before but, I took a risk. A risk on trusting myself, learning to be with my fear instead of giving in to that feeling of being less than or irrelevant. Ready to tackle whatever was next.