Little Bird to Baltimore

AM

I can’t help but ponder my own mortality and the fragility of the human condition when I’m on an airplane; especially on a little bird like this morning’s twin engine turbo-prop.  All things being equal this aircraft is only slightly more advanced than a mini-van with wings and a couple of engines.  I didn’t see the pilot crank up the propellers with rubber bands but I’m fairly certain that he must have. 

Man’s fascination with flying has always puzzled me.  I’ve seen the footage of the Wright brother’s first flight and I must say those boys had the gray matter working. They left the ground for the first time in little more than twigs draped in canvas.  They started with a simple inspiration, a conviction in their own abilities and a desire to accomplish what no man had accomplished prior.  No failure could quell that desire.  They relentlessly pursued their passion.  I respect that spirit.  Orville and Wilbur were certainly a helluva lot more enlightened than Icarus.  Do you recall this character?  Now that guy was an absolute tool.    I know it’s a myth, but let’s review the plan of young Captain Thought Process.  To escape imprisonment he fabricated wings made of feathers, bound together with wax.  (Really?)  Once airborne it must have been quite a rush – so much so that he didn’t want to land and soared too close to the sun.  The heat of the sun melted the wax and he fell to his death in the sea. That’s the problem with dreamers – they don’t think the dream to fruition. Though I admire his creative spirit as well, he had to see that one coming.  My recollection of this story was gained, of course, from listening to way too much Iron Maiden in high school. I will reserve, for another day, narration of the eternal love for all things Iron Maiden that I’ve enjoyed since Jesus was a freshman at State. I’m not sure exactly how the Greek’s tell that tale, but I’m sure a more intelligent metaphor is intended.

I love flying but I’m apprehensive today for some reason.

I know the pilot.  He’s a good guy. (His name is John, so he must be solid.) I trust him.  I’ve flown with him many times on this plane and we always land safely where we are supposed to (most of the time).  He loves what he does and he’s good at it.  He is an ex-military guy though and sometimes I feel like he flies as if he’s in a freaking video game: that troubles me.  He seems to be in reasonably good health.  Mentally stable from what I can tell, wife, 2 ½ kids etc. etc.  Even still, every time I fly with him I make sure to shake his hand and look him in the eye to ascertain whether or not he’s having a “Geez, that bitch is crazy – I think I’ll fly headlong into Lake Lanier” type of morning. After all, he’s still just some dude maneuvering this assortment of sheet metal and rivets (no wax, hopefully) through the clear blue sky @ 300+ mph, 25,000 feet above this peaceful carpet of downy white clouds.  That’s a lot of trust to have in a human, no?  If he checks out, that’s game.  There isn’t a co-pilot, I sure as hell can’t fly this thing and he didn’t issue parachutes with the bottled water when we boarded.  And let’s be honest, you never see news stories about small private plane crashes where the passengers all walk away, right?  Indeed, the first article I see in the paper this morning goes something like “…twin-engine, turbo-prop crashes while attempting to land…no survivors.”  Seriously? Seriously. 

I’ve seen the Buddy Holly Story.  I know how that story ends. 

I’m starting to freak myself out a little plus I have work to do before we land.  I’ll try to finish this thought later…barring of course, a gut-wrenching free fall to earth ending in a remarkable crater and a fiery ball of twisted metal, smoldering human flesh.  You know when I was younger I would declare to anyone who would listen, my desire to go out in spectacular fashion – two rocket fuel laden trains colliding or a plane crash into a volcano caused by a perfectly timed lighting burst, some epic disaster.  I rethink that position this morning. 

My little bird to Baltimore is perfect and the earth will gently rise to meet us in due time, as it always does.  Right? 

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PM

It was a little bumpy dropping into BWI but we landed safe and sound of course.  The day was a complete bust but you can’t expect to win them all I guess.  I don’t really believe that one bit actually – I do expect to win them all.

There’s apparently “some weather” between here and PDK but John doesn’t seem too concerned.  He’s so unimpressed by it in fact that I just noticed that we are on autopilot and he is kicked back perusing the latest copy of Controller magazine.  In case you don’t know that’s basically AutoTrader for airplanes.  Again, really?  At least act like you are paying attention! (My overactive imagination rarely takes a break, you see.)  I guess the up-side is that he’s not taking a nap?  I don’t know for sure but I think if I were in his seat I’d be a tad more engaged. 

So, the fragility.  I rarely stop to think about this thankfully, but I submit that we are about (2) seconds away from certain death with every step we take in this world.  There are about a million and one things that could potentially end my life between here and my office, not to mention the mine field that is my morning routine.  I could easily stumble down the steps and crack my skull as the pups scurry between my legs to go out every morning.  I could certainly be standing in a puddle of water when the outlet that the razor is plugged into short-circuits.  And I’ve not even pulled the truck out of the driveway yet!  Don’t even get me started on the crap shoot that is ATL traffic.  I don’t take time to think about these possibilities because I would be raving mad if I did.  Today, I’ve stopped to think about them ALL – dumb move. 

So why the hell are we trying to dodge 30,000 foot thunderheads this late in September?  He can’t dodge them all and when we fly threw one of these bad boys the plane is ripping up or down, side to side 200’ easily.  That doesn’t sound like a lot but in a plane this size a 200’ drop feels like 1000’. I’ve got a white-knuckle grip on my arm rest – I’m sure that will keep me safe. Wish me luck!

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Night Cap

On the drive home from the airport tonight I started to feel like an idiot.  99.9999% of the time the ridiculous scenarios I’ve been filling my head with do not happen.  And when they do, I’m not usually involved.  So why have I been panicked all day? 

Maybe, I took a step (2) seconds sooner or (2) seconds later than I was supposed to and unwittingly averted my own demise. 

Maybe (and most likely) I just had too much time on my hands.  It’s laughable that I’ve been worried about the awful events that could possibly happen to me.  I've not exactly treated my body as a temple, more like an amusement park really.  I still smoke and drink and fill in the blank every unhealthy thing that occurs to me to do and/or participate in. I’m certainly on borrowed time as I speak. 

But hey, to celebrate my safe return to earth I’m having a drink and a cigarette.  Go figure.

Remind me to tell you about how Iron Maiden changed my life sometime.