Shellbell's Flight Adventure I’d like to share with you something that I wrote in August, 2002 about my first flight in a C172. I have been publishing some stories with a pilot as the protagonist so I thought if you’ve been reading those you could see by reading this just how passionate I am about small planes! I hope you enjoy this and if you haven’t read my stories, and decide to do so, enjoy! ShellBell Cessna Queen of Bells Over and Out! August 9, 2002 Well, some of you know I've had this thing about planes, lately. Well, I probably should say more than lately, but it has only been in recent months that my interest has been fanned to fever pitch, culminating this evening after a million hours spent slavishly reading articles about planes and pilots, and talking to pilots, and probably annoying them, or making them laugh, or rub their heads in absolute amazement and wonder (a big assumption on my part anyway), in my first ride in a Cessna 172. It was a Skyhawk, trainer plane. Let me just run down a few of the details! Morning, Aug 9 Woke up after being up till 2:00 in the morning trying to read articles by this one pilot, thinking, oh, great, what did I just read here? Oh,oh, no, can't do this! Shook my head, Never try to read an intellectual logical pilot's work after being in Jacuzzi and said, no, way, my dear, I love your work, but I'm really out of here! So I got up this morning with four kids piled on my bed, and their mom, and greeted the day with the kids laughter and Melanie hogging up my time. We progressed to two hours of pancake breakfast and Shelley slavishly doing the dishes. It was the only thing that would keep me distracted. We decided at 1:00 to go get my paycheck, which did not materialize because I had gotten it in July, but hadn't really paid attention or something. I was frazzled. Oh, dear God no, that means I have to cancel this flight and, oh, brother, if I had to do that, I would just cry. It had been along time since I cried about anything! Ok, Shelley, don't cry in front of four kids, here, just go home, think this one out, be logical, just figure it out. So I did. Before I got home, I got on the phone to my dad, whom I don't call for help unless my life is ending, and in this case, a little four-seater plane without me in it was going to be my undoing! I said, please could you just drive me to the airport, I could take care of the rest, it was that I didn't have the money for cab fare to the airport. "You said if I needed you in an emergency, call,I'm calling!" My father is wonderful! He showed up at 6:00 to get me. But before that, I went back from my paycheck adventures, answered a few emails! One of the pilots I've been talking to was going to come with me and bring his wife along, but last night while we were frolicking in the pool he called and said he couldn't do it. He seemed really excited when I called on Wednesday and said "hey everyone can't come do you guys want to come?" I sent him an email to which he responded "have a great flight..we're leaving tonight for Colorado." Well, when there's a choice between the Cessna and a road trip to Colorado, who loses? It's up to you, isn't it? the kids were still hanging about so we all went to the store and bought water and film for the camera. then I came home got on my black flying outfit and said, ok, here goes nothing! the kids left, leaving the place in absolute silence. An hour before I was to leave for the airport, I wrote this. Last minute thoughts before the Cessna Don't forget your other ear ring! Don't forget the camera! Don't forget the checkbook! Don't, by all means, bother your pilots anymore! Poor, wonderful, generous, helpful, extremely patient pilots! OH, why not, it's the only passion you' ve honestly admitted to you're entire life. Miss you d and s DON'T DRINK ANYMORE WATER! DON'T EAT! you're REALLY OK, JUST DON'T EAT! SAVE IT for later WHEN YOU CAN RELISH the experience! Carolyn, a lady from work who called with a complaint and needed a listening ear today said I was brave! ? MY Mom would think I just need sex! Ok, that's one person's opinion! It's been hot today. Turbulence? I was literally writing these things down as I was going through the house getting ready! God, it's quiet in here! The kids all gone, just, me, you, and the Cessna looming like some unknown, uncontemplated, adventure before me. I have more faith in the creation story than in the fact that I actually got the courage to do this! Maybe because I wasn't responsible for the former. Everyone chickened out. Couldn't make it. It's just me, like I wanted it! Found the other ear ring. Got the check book and the camera. Remember when I was standing in Lake Forest Illinois at concordia looking out the window wondering what I was doing there? Same thing! I must be ok, I'm proofing my work. The time is now 6:00 pm. One hour and counting. Jeff the pilot said my dialog was intriguing. What the hell does that mean! Sitting in the rocker, it's hot and humid. There are a few children outside and a car and the hot, heavy air and the breeze, the blinds being rattled about by the wind. Feel like I'm having tea wit god.. Maybe I should! Where are you? We're late. O, we're not late! I haven't anticipated anything this much since I don't know when. The last thing that made me this antsy was my impending wedding. That made me sick. This just makes me happy! So what does that mean, anyway? Intriguing dialog! I know. Maybe I felt like this at my recital in 1994. But I was dressed more formally then. Saturday supposed to go to Costa Mesa. Maybe I'll need it. I'm glad kids were here today. Kept me wonderfully distracted. Pancake breakfast, going to get the paycheck, which didn't materialize, and then, well, then here we are! He's here. Then, it was upon me, the trip to the airport, the gate, pushing in the gate code which the instructor had given me. Walking through the gate, seeing the little planes, these are little baby planes! No, there's a King Air sitting here, imperious in its splendor! Entering the office, the cold air-conditioned office, sitting, a man at his computer, looking frantically for the instructor. Where the heck is the instructor? Oh, there he is, in the Mooney. that's my baby, no my plane! A girl walking through in sandals and shorts. "You fly planes?" I asked "I'm afraid of flying!" she says. A pilot who had met us out with all the planes working on meter hours. What kind of plane do you have?" "Cessna 172." "What is your rating?" A bunch of letters. Maybe he thought he would stump me. Who is this blind girl sitting in **my** airport anyway! No, he was very nice. He was a CFI, but not mine. "What made you interested in taking a flight?" asks some innocent person at the computer. "Um, a plane that crashed through a fence four blocks from my house three months ago," the standard reply. "I've always kind of been interested, but I just used this as an excuse." "What happened?" "Part numb bla bla bla, some Lycoming oil plate adapter failure." "What?" Everyone looks confused. Is it the fact that a camera toting tourist with a purse and sandals and a white cane is talking about Lycoming? Or what, anyway? who cares! Then, the plane lands, the instructor gets out with the student, he comes in, tall and quiet and confident. I know what I'm about here, his whole demeanor says! Nice guy, though. "I don't like pilots with egos," he says after the flight but, oh, yeah, we haven't gotten to that yet! Fill out the paperwork, then we walk out to the plane, this little thing that you swear could be a child's model if it wasn't so intricate in its design, screws and rivets, and thin metal sheets and moving wing parts, and little nuts and struts, and grease, and all sitting there, gleaming, just waiting! Walking under the wings, where is the leading edge? Here? Oh, this is the part that hit the fence. "Hey," says the pilot, instructor, whose hands are literally holding my life for the next hour or so. "not you," I say. Then we're feeling for nicks in the props, "don't stand under there", draining fuel samples, checking for this and that! Oh, it was absolute unadulterated pleasure! "Your hand is dirty," says the pilot. "I've raised four kids. I can handle it!" Ize used to the spit and polish routine, baby! Then the climbing in part. Carefully over struts and the step into the very small space for feet, well, this one with pedals and the yoke and oh, goodness, so this is what it's all about! the pilot coming into his side, taking the controls, comfy, cozy, close, his shirt sleeve on my arm, no room for movement. You just better like it in here! And you better like your pilot, no arguments, you lose! And this is a bigger Cessna! Hmm. Ok. the headset, the tour of the instruments, where's that trim wheel again? ah, here it is, ten miles away from me, tucked somewhere untouchable except by pilot's hands, all in twelve directions at once! Headsets and code words, and instructions. do this for me, do that for me, put your hand here, do this. Me? So I did, and that was it! We were up and running. No, I should say, flying! What did it matter to me that I couldn't see out the window. I did not care! Sitting there, curled up, comfy cozy, smiling, listening, taking it all in, the throbbing vibrating sheer delight of so much machinery and competent skill! I didn't talk much to the pilot because of cutting in and out of the headset which looked like a 1970s version of a stereo headset. "on glide path, on course. Heading 220 Four miles from touch down!" "This is going to be a squeaker," says the pilot. Was it over? So soon? When can we do this again? Out of the plane, pictures, inside, writing the check, the instructor drawing lazy eights on my receipt. I figured it out, sort of! "It's a commercial maneuver," he explains. "I know." "He talks about co-sign," I said to the instructor about a pilot's work I'm reading. "Oh, no<'he says, like, oh, dear God, not that! "flying is fun, don't make it so boring," is his response. "Boring? it's not boring. By no means! Notice, I didn't say I got it,I said it wasn't boring!" "I'll call you," I say to the 25-something instructor. that's my line. so you think I'm waiting till the semester ends? AHA, think again! He said the King air was a million and a half ten years ago with the smelly jet/prop engine, "I'll fly you anywhere you want to go,' he says when I say, "ay, we'll take it!" Please! So, you know I'm not waiting till christmas! But wait, that was only a little C172 trainer! Oh, goodness! And you know if I have to come home and write about it, the experience was good!
Copyright © 2002 Shelley J Alongi |