Come Fly With Me

"Why fly? Simple. I'm not happy unless there's some room between me and the ground."- Richard Bach


On a lovely spring morning in May, like plenty of other spring mornings, I awoke with jumpy adrenaline butterflies tying an ethereal knot in my stomach. It was an ethereal one because this was to be my first day of flight. I had two hours to find a willing companion to drive me to my first flight lesson and ride in the back of a 4 seater plane. I frantically searched through my phonebook for people with balls.

I came across the name of my crush. He and I have been friends for years and I've had a thing for him for most of that time. I'm happy to report that he had balls and said that he would accompany me on what my other friends deemed a "suicide mission, kamikaze style". I jumped up and down on my bed for about ten minutes and then braided feathers in my hair. This was to be much more than a flight lesson for me but a rite of passage.

My great grandfather was one of the most highly decorated fighter pilots in World War II and a prominent figure in the sky diving world. He owned and operated his own flight and sky diving classes after the war. With his gorgeous turquoise blue eyes and shiny toothy smile, he was a handsome man. No one in my family enjoys to fly. I was definitely my great grandfather's spirit encarnate.

After having tackled sky diving two years prior and coming close to my Class A license, I had to give it up to a minor injury that was nagging me ( as well as for my poor parents who turned into chain smoking shaking humans whose life I was progressively ruining with my new found love of adrenaline) . The natural progression of my love for the sky lead me to want to fly the actual plane versus diving out of it. My phone rang its Pulp Fiction ringtone and off I went, with the butterflies fiercely creating intricate embroidery knots in my tummy.

We arrived at the gate and were met by my flight instructor. After giving me the lowdown on the equipment and making me sign several safety and insurance papers, we were ready to see my plane and begin the day. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly surprised that my vessel for the day was a 1976 Piper Warrior plane, a little old and a little rinky dinky. I wasn't expecting the latest equipment anyway, but apparently my crush/passenger was. What made matters a little iffy was when the instructor jumpstarted the propeller, he had to kick it. For my demented mind, that made this experience that much more thrilling.

The hardest part of flight is the takeoff and the landing. With my crush sitting in the back and the instructor sitting next to me, I had a nearly flawless first takeoff. It was a little unnerving because the smaller the plane is, the more you feel every bump and crevice of the wind. Upon reaching cruising altitude, I felt my breathe being swept away from me. It was heartbreakingly beautiful; the sharp green lands, the navy blue majestic Atlantic, the cotton candy clouds. I felt the passion and total stillness of the soul that my great grandfather must have felt every day of his lucky life. It was a silencing of the mind and the understanding of how insignificant you were in the grand spectrum of this world.

Most of the flight was spent in silence, with my instructor whispering flight commands in the headset. The silence was peppered with "oh"s and "wow"s and "holy shit"s. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that you actually get to FLY the plane on your first try. It wouldn't have been my cup of tea to just play the ride along game. It was now time to land; the hardest part of the flight.

My instructor told me that I had to follow his words to the utmost last grammatical point. This part of the lesson was the trickiest and also the most dangerous. My inner devil smirked. It's not that I have a death wish, it's just my need for adrenaline coupled with my natural euphoric high led me to attempt to land this plane on my own accord. Unfortunately, I was about 3 minutes into my own plan when the instructor took the controls and "re-routed" me. He laughed into the headset, said something about me being a "natural pilot" and told me that he wasn't joking when he said to follow his instructions.

The landing was a little bit bumpy because we were rushed due to oncoming traffic on the landing strip. However, we were on the ground safe and sound. I turned around and my crush, looking a little shaken, was smiling ear to ear. "That was fuckin' awesome". I know. That was to be our first date. We have since eloped and will be planning a lovely wedding party for the family folk soon.

I've realized that being a professional pilot is not something that I could financially pursue today. After speaking with several professional pilots, I have learned that their family and social lives suffer greatly because of the hours needed at the job. You are pretty much living in the sky for the majority of your life. That would be amazing except I have fallen in love and still have a family to create in the future. I will pursue this as the most magnificant hobby ever. My great grandfather and I would have been the best team. I resemble him and I know he's shared a bit of his soul with me. He would be very proud.