17 January 2013
Story #622
R. Linda:
Being up in a small plane with Weasil and Amanda was no joyful flight for yours truly. I had been saying how bored I was and how I needed a little excitement, but I never thought the excitement would come with the two Weasils showing up at me door. I should have known, as well, that things were going to go to a lofty level when I opened the door. There was Weasil dressed in boots, what looked like riding pants, a leather bomber jacket, a white scarf WITH fringe, aviator goggles and a leather goggle hat or whatever that piece of paraphernalia is called. Mrs. Weasil was dressed the same way! I thought they were early for a costume party, but no, this was serious business. The Weasil had bought himself a twin-engine Cessna, and he and she had been flying around and landed in me neck of the woods!
To make an extended visit short, they talked me into a quick flight in "da Red Baron" (the name of the new plane), and they brought a leather hat with goggles just for me! I was not wearing those articles for feeling and looking at the buffoon, but the idea of a short flight actually had its purpose. I had to go to Vermont for a story, and this quick flight would save me the long drive.
Me brain was screaming at me, "NO, ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU ARE FLYING IN A SMALL PLANE WITH WEASIL! HELLO! THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA GABRIEL!" But I ignored that loud shouting voice in me head because truly driving on snow-covered, icy roads be not me cup of tea. The last time I did that, I slid off the road and broke me leg. So to the airfield, we went, or more like slid because the roads were slick, further ensuring to me, at least, I was doing the right thing by flying.
To be quite honest with you, the Red Baron looked the shiny new airplane and, being new, what could go wrong? I fawned over how lovely it was as we got inside. I thought, piece of cake this, I'll be there and back in no time, travelling in the lap of luxury! Yeah, I did think that.
Weasil started her up, and she hummed to life, the engines swirling the propellers around. He was in the pilot's seat, Amanda was in the co, and I was right behind in the passenger's seat. I thought they'd take the goggles off, but no, both stayed dressed as if this was World War 1 or 2 or both, and they were Baron Von Richthofen, and we were about to fly an important mission to Vermont! Yes, indeed.
We were given the go-ahead to taxi on out and did not have to wait; we were given permission to start our approach and go! Well, I will say it was a smooth movement forward as we picked up speed, the humming of the engines growing louder, the Weasil laughing with glee, Mrs. Weasil intent on the controls, and we began to lift off the foggy ground and up into the fog itself. Me eardrums got all stuffed up, and suddenly, we broke out of the mist into a clearness that harboured a bit of defused sunlight. I looked down, wishing I could see the earth below, but the fog and clouds were too dense.
Within five minutes, we were in the clear, and I could look down; it was then, for a bloody bad moment, I realised how high up I was and who I was with! Yup, all me new-found fun turned into a UH OH moment. All was quiet as we levelled off and continued on, and then there was this from Mrs. Weasil: "Yea, you did it!"
"Did what?" I asked nervously, thinking that maybe Mr. W was very new at this flying-a-plane business.
"Well," Amanda said, half turning towards me, where I sat behind the Weasil. Chris gets vertigo, and sometimes he passes out from it, but with the fog, the lift didn't cause that to happen, and HERE WE ARE!"
I sat there speechless. Then I blurted out, "Did you say passes out? Vertigo?"
"Oh yes, he's prone to that. That is why I took lessons in case that happens. He insists, as a matter of luck, that he HAS to be the one to get us off the ground. Superstitious, he is, and luck? Oh yeah." And she giggled.
I found this no laughing matter, but the flight was smooth despite me jittery nerves; we got to Vermont in no time at all. Weasil landed the small plane without a hitch, and Bob's your uncle. I was placed on the ground to do my interview and meet the two of them back at the airstrip in two hours.
I tried not to think about the flight home. I honestly did battle that voice in me head that was shouting in frustration, "I WARNED YOU, GABRIEL! YOU JUST WON'T LISTEN, AND I BE NOT GOING TO SAY THIS AGAIN, BUT YOU ARE TOYING WITH OUR LIFE! I AM GOING TO SAY IT OVER AND OVER UNTIL YOU WAKE THE BLOODY FECK UP AND RENT A CAR AND DRIVE US HOME!"
I got to the airstrip, paid the taxi driver, and stood in the small main building. I could not move a step towards the other side, where I could see the two Von Richthofens chatting with some airfield employee. They looked all happy and confident, and the sun was shining brightly. There was no fog. The word 'vertigo' was bouncing around me brain. Me inner voice shouted, "DO NOT GET ON THAT PLANE. YOU WILL BE SORRY, GABRIEL!"
I was feeling sick, and as I turned to go outside where I could ring a taxi, they saw me and started in me direction. I was unsure what to say or do. The voice was telling me to run, but I did not. They approached me all smiles and asked if I was "ready." I knew I'd never be ready, but I allowed meself to be escorted out to the pavement where the shiny new plane awaited.
Never has my inner voice been so strong as it was at that moment, but despite it, I strapped meself in and closed me eyes as I listened to the Cessna come to life. We began the slow taxi to takeoff. As we did, I thought of trying to jump out, but we were cleared and picking up speed. As we did (it felt faster than the last time), the lift seemed to wobble as we left the ground. We started to rise, and as we did, I could see Weasil's eyelids fluttering, his head bobbing forward and back, and Amanda placing a hand on his arm as if in signal she needed to take over. And then, WHAM! He was out like a light!
Me inner voice shouted, "I TOLD YA SO! YOU ARE AN EEJIT! YOUR PILOT IS PASSED WAY THE HELL OUT! NO PARACHUTEEEEEEEE!!!"
I immediately unstrapped meself as Amanda ordered me to strap meself back in, but I couldn't. I knelt behind and to the side of the Weasil and realised Amanda had taken control. That allowed me to slap his silly face awake, but NO, I couldn't reach him, so NOTHING HAPPENED, he was out . . . way out! I crouched back on me heels, getting hit instantly with panic, anxiety, angst, and TERROR!
"Don't you worry none Gabe, I've got this," Amanda said to me as if that would make everything better. It didn't.
"How will YOU bring down this couple of tons of metal from 1000 feet to the terra firma?" I asked, way beyond upset.
"I can do this, Gabe; you sit back and enjoy the ride. Oh, and don't worry about Chris; he'll be fine in a few minutes. He should snap out of it as soon as we start our descent."
"Enjoy the ride? Are you fecking kidding me?" I asked.
She made a sound like I was being a complete silly. Then she said, "Watch me land this baby, Gabe, I promise I won't scratch the paintwork.
Oh yeah, THAT was reassuring. But it only got worse from there.
"Hum," Mrs. Weasil said to herself, but I caught it.
"Wha . . . what's the matter?" I asked in me panicky state.
"It seems the mechanics didn't refuel the plane while we had lunch."
"WHAT?!"
"I THINK we can just make it to Manchester." She said as I sat crunched and stunned. I do believe me heart stopped; I know me breathing did. I coughed and choked it back as I went to me seat, strapped meself in tightly, closed me eyes and started to pray to every deity I could think of. What began as a quick way to get to an assignment so I could get back early and laze around quickly became a nightmare scenario of a passed-out pilot, hardly any fuel, and a novice co-pilot.
"We are approaching Manchester, and I will inform them of our wee problem," Amanda said, smiling at me over her shoulder as if this was no life-and-death situation for her, at least! Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! I was speechless with fright as I covertly took a peek below, and wow, wow, wow, we were very high up!
"Okay, Gabe, hold on. We are going into a 90-degree angle to the runway."
Me eyes flipped open from being tightly shut so as not to see a thing on impact, but that statement had them wide open in horror. A 90-degree angle? Was she for real? I looked down, I didn't see the airport. Where was she landing? On a highway? Oh, drat that thought! She gave the plane's registration number, position, and intention to land.
"Amanda? Where is the airport?" I asked.
"It's three miles to the runway there, Gabe," she answered. "I think we have just enough fuel to get there."
Oh yeah, that was reassuring. The Weasil slept on while all this malarkey was going on.
"We are cruising at 100 knots, Gabe. I need to drop to 70 for our approach. I am going to slowly reduce the power, so don't panic. I am not stalling the engine," she informed me as she chewed gum and moved the controls.
"Can you chew gum and fly a plane, Amanda?" I asked her.
"I'm doin' it, aren't I?" She laughed.
Oi!
I could see the plane's flaps come down from my window view, and the drag caused the plane to lag. You know that feeling when your stomach drops with it? Yeah, well, that was what I was experiencing, along with extreme angst. And that happens; why? As the brakes come on, the plane begins to descend, and she tilts its nose as she pulls the controls gently towards her, a huge shite-eating grin on her smug face while I sat there watching her, feeling anything but safe.
"Gabe, don't worry. I have us stable for the descent, and the nose is pointing toward the horizon, so we are good to go, or in this case, land!" And she laughed, yes she did. I found nothing humorous about our situation. I gulped, thinking her a mad woman in goggles and a leather bomber hat.
"Now, Gabe, we aren't a jumbo jet, so I have to do all this landing stuff visually." She threw at me.
"Visually?" I looked out, and there was no fog, so there was that.
She got the go-ahead to make her final approach. The word "final" was banging around me brain with me inner voice yelling, "YOU BETTER BELIEVE ITS FINAL, YOU DOLT!'
Amanda's voice cut the voice off with this gem, "This is it, Gabe. Time to get this baby down and enjoy a debrief in the bar!"
"Huh?" I was confused; she was taking this as if it were no big deal, and it was a big deal. At least to me, it was!
"We are approaching a tad too fast, Gabe. I must raise the nose a bit, so hold on." She went back around and started her approach, but this time, she was moving too fast and started to reduce the speed, which was doing strange things to my nervous system, not to mention me stomach. She kept making minor adjustments to the controls, and when she was satisfied, she said (which further agitated me entire brain and body), "I'm about to plonk it down."
"Plonk? Are we coming in for a rough landing?" I croaked, barely able to get the words out.
We were about 40 feet from the ground coming on towards the runway when she eased the plane's nose up slowly and flipped a switch to idle. I sat there in wonder at what she was doing. But then she gradually eased the nose further up as I felt the wheels touch down. The front of the plane began to ease down on its own. She applied the brakes, slowing the plane to a taxi and down the runway. We went to a parking spot. As that was occurring, the Weasil decided to rouse. Yes, he did. I could have hit him with something.
As she eased into the parking spot, she turned the power off.
"Are you okay, Chris? At least this time, you didn't suffer a nosebleed." Amanda said solicitously to her groggy hubby.
"Nosebleed? He's prone to nosebleeds, and he flies a small . . . excuse me, he travels in a small plane?" I asked, unstrapped and standing between their chairs. "Okay, I am out of here," I said, opening the door and climbing out. You don't know how wonderful it was to feel the good green earth . . . correction, the good, snowy earth under me feet.
"Hey, Gabby," Weasil called to me as he unstrapped himself and attempted to stand up. He was swaying from his brain, returning to the real world, and he was not steady on his feet, but Amanda was helping him down.
"What, just what?" I asked, rather tiffed at the two of them.
"IF dis trippy has whetted yer appetitie fer flyin', I'd be happy ta take yer arse up and teach ya how ta fly a plane."
I stood there speechless. Yeah, right. The man who passes out at 1000 feet off the ground is going to stay conscious long enough for him to teach me to fly a plane. Oh yeah, right.
I left them in Manchester. I don't know where they are or what they are doing, but I learned me lesson. I now have two vehicles of transportation—a motor and now an airplane—and I won't be a passenger when Weasil is at the controls. I'm done, so done!
I don't know if I can ever fly in a plane again without all this . . . THIS coming back to haunt me. He has ruined not only driving a car for me, but now I doubt I will look at air travel in the same light EVER.
Gabe (still here and living to tell about it, oi!)
R. Linda:
Being up in a small plane with Weasil and Amanda was no joyful flight for yours truly. I had been saying how bored I was and how I needed a little excitement, but I never thought the excitement would come with the two Weasils showing up at me door. I should have known, as well, that things were going to go to a lofty level when I opened the door. There was Weasil dressed in boots, what looked like riding pants, a leather bomber jacket, a white scarf WITH fringe, aviator goggles and a leather goggle hat or whatever that piece of paraphernalia is called. Mrs. Weasil was dressed the same way! I thought they were early for a costume party, but no, this was serious business. The Weasil had bought himself a twin-engine Cessna, and he and she had been flying around and landed in me neck of the woods!
To make an extended visit short, they talked me into a quick flight in "da Red Baron" (the name of the new plane), and they brought a leather hat with goggles just for me! I was not wearing those articles for feeling and looking at the buffoon, but the idea of a short flight actually had its purpose. I had to go to Vermont for a story, and this quick flight would save me the long drive.
Me brain was screaming at me, "NO, ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU ARE FLYING IN A SMALL PLANE WITH WEASIL! HELLO! THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA GABRIEL!" But I ignored that loud shouting voice in me head because truly driving on snow-covered, icy roads be not me cup of tea. The last time I did that, I slid off the road and broke me leg. So to the airfield, we went, or more like slid because the roads were slick, further ensuring to me, at least, I was doing the right thing by flying.
To be quite honest with you, the Red Baron looked the shiny new airplane and, being new, what could go wrong? I fawned over how lovely it was as we got inside. I thought, piece of cake this, I'll be there and back in no time, travelling in the lap of luxury! Yeah, I did think that.
Weasil started her up, and she hummed to life, the engines swirling the propellers around. He was in the pilot's seat, Amanda was in the co, and I was right behind in the passenger's seat. I thought they'd take the goggles off, but no, both stayed dressed as if this was World War 1 or 2 or both, and they were Baron Von Richthofen, and we were about to fly an important mission to Vermont! Yes, indeed.
We were given the go-ahead to taxi on out and did not have to wait; we were given permission to start our approach and go! Well, I will say it was a smooth movement forward as we picked up speed, the humming of the engines growing louder, the Weasil laughing with glee, Mrs. Weasil intent on the controls, and we began to lift off the foggy ground and up into the fog itself. Me eardrums got all stuffed up, and suddenly, we broke out of the mist into a clearness that harboured a bit of defused sunlight. I looked down, wishing I could see the earth below, but the fog and clouds were too dense.
Within five minutes, we were in the clear, and I could look down; it was then, for a bloody bad moment, I realised how high up I was and who I was with! Yup, all me new-found fun turned into a UH OH moment. All was quiet as we levelled off and continued on, and then there was this from Mrs. Weasil: "Yea, you did it!"
"Did what?" I asked nervously, thinking that maybe Mr. W was very new at this flying-a-plane business.
"Well," Amanda said, half turning towards me, where I sat behind the Weasil. Chris gets vertigo, and sometimes he passes out from it, but with the fog, the lift didn't cause that to happen, and HERE WE ARE!"
I sat there speechless. Then I blurted out, "Did you say passes out? Vertigo?"
"Oh yes, he's prone to that. That is why I took lessons in case that happens. He insists, as a matter of luck, that he HAS to be the one to get us off the ground. Superstitious, he is, and luck? Oh yeah." And she giggled.
I found this no laughing matter, but the flight was smooth despite me jittery nerves; we got to Vermont in no time at all. Weasil landed the small plane without a hitch, and Bob's your uncle. I was placed on the ground to do my interview and meet the two of them back at the airstrip in two hours.
I tried not to think about the flight home. I honestly did battle that voice in me head that was shouting in frustration, "I WARNED YOU, GABRIEL! YOU JUST WON'T LISTEN, AND I BE NOT GOING TO SAY THIS AGAIN, BUT YOU ARE TOYING WITH OUR LIFE! I AM GOING TO SAY IT OVER AND OVER UNTIL YOU WAKE THE BLOODY FECK UP AND RENT A CAR AND DRIVE US HOME!"
I got to the airstrip, paid the taxi driver, and stood in the small main building. I could not move a step towards the other side, where I could see the two Von Richthofens chatting with some airfield employee. They looked all happy and confident, and the sun was shining brightly. There was no fog. The word 'vertigo' was bouncing around me brain. Me inner voice shouted, "DO NOT GET ON THAT PLANE. YOU WILL BE SORRY, GABRIEL!"
I was feeling sick, and as I turned to go outside where I could ring a taxi, they saw me and started in me direction. I was unsure what to say or do. The voice was telling me to run, but I did not. They approached me all smiles and asked if I was "ready." I knew I'd never be ready, but I allowed meself to be escorted out to the pavement where the shiny new plane awaited.
Never has my inner voice been so strong as it was at that moment, but despite it, I strapped meself in and closed me eyes as I listened to the Cessna come to life. We began the slow taxi to takeoff. As we did, I thought of trying to jump out, but we were cleared and picking up speed. As we did (it felt faster than the last time), the lift seemed to wobble as we left the ground. We started to rise, and as we did, I could see Weasil's eyelids fluttering, his head bobbing forward and back, and Amanda placing a hand on his arm as if in signal she needed to take over. And then, WHAM! He was out like a light!
Me inner voice shouted, "I TOLD YA SO! YOU ARE AN EEJIT! YOUR PILOT IS PASSED WAY THE HELL OUT! NO PARACHUTEEEEEEEE!!!"
I immediately unstrapped meself as Amanda ordered me to strap meself back in, but I couldn't. I knelt behind and to the side of the Weasil and realised Amanda had taken control. That allowed me to slap his silly face awake, but NO, I couldn't reach him, so NOTHING HAPPENED, he was out . . . way out! I crouched back on me heels, getting hit instantly with panic, anxiety, angst, and TERROR!
"Don't you worry none Gabe, I've got this," Amanda said to me as if that would make everything better. It didn't.
"How will YOU bring down this couple of tons of metal from 1000 feet to the terra firma?" I asked, way beyond upset.
"I can do this, Gabe; you sit back and enjoy the ride. Oh, and don't worry about Chris; he'll be fine in a few minutes. He should snap out of it as soon as we start our descent."
"Enjoy the ride? Are you fecking kidding me?" I asked.
She made a sound like I was being a complete silly. Then she said, "Watch me land this baby, Gabe, I promise I won't scratch the paintwork.
Oh yeah, THAT was reassuring. But it only got worse from there.
"Hum," Mrs. Weasil said to herself, but I caught it.
"Wha . . . what's the matter?" I asked in me panicky state.
"It seems the mechanics didn't refuel the plane while we had lunch."
"WHAT?!"
"I THINK we can just make it to Manchester." She said as I sat crunched and stunned. I do believe me heart stopped; I know me breathing did. I coughed and choked it back as I went to me seat, strapped meself in tightly, closed me eyes and started to pray to every deity I could think of. What began as a quick way to get to an assignment so I could get back early and laze around quickly became a nightmare scenario of a passed-out pilot, hardly any fuel, and a novice co-pilot.
"We are approaching Manchester, and I will inform them of our wee problem," Amanda said, smiling at me over her shoulder as if this was no life-and-death situation for her, at least! Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi! I was speechless with fright as I covertly took a peek below, and wow, wow, wow, we were very high up!
"Okay, Gabe, hold on. We are going into a 90-degree angle to the runway."
Me eyes flipped open from being tightly shut so as not to see a thing on impact, but that statement had them wide open in horror. A 90-degree angle? Was she for real? I looked down, I didn't see the airport. Where was she landing? On a highway? Oh, drat that thought! She gave the plane's registration number, position, and intention to land.
"Amanda? Where is the airport?" I asked.
"It's three miles to the runway there, Gabe," she answered. "I think we have just enough fuel to get there."
Oh yeah, that was reassuring. The Weasil slept on while all this malarkey was going on.
"We are cruising at 100 knots, Gabe. I need to drop to 70 for our approach. I am going to slowly reduce the power, so don't panic. I am not stalling the engine," she informed me as she chewed gum and moved the controls.
"Can you chew gum and fly a plane, Amanda?" I asked her.
"I'm doin' it, aren't I?" She laughed.
Oi!
I could see the plane's flaps come down from my window view, and the drag caused the plane to lag. You know that feeling when your stomach drops with it? Yeah, well, that was what I was experiencing, along with extreme angst. And that happens; why? As the brakes come on, the plane begins to descend, and she tilts its nose as she pulls the controls gently towards her, a huge shite-eating grin on her smug face while I sat there watching her, feeling anything but safe.
"Gabe, don't worry. I have us stable for the descent, and the nose is pointing toward the horizon, so we are good to go, or in this case, land!" And she laughed, yes she did. I found nothing humorous about our situation. I gulped, thinking her a mad woman in goggles and a leather bomber hat.
"Now, Gabe, we aren't a jumbo jet, so I have to do all this landing stuff visually." She threw at me.
"Visually?" I looked out, and there was no fog, so there was that.
She got the go-ahead to make her final approach. The word "final" was banging around me brain with me inner voice yelling, "YOU BETTER BELIEVE ITS FINAL, YOU DOLT!'
Amanda's voice cut the voice off with this gem, "This is it, Gabe. Time to get this baby down and enjoy a debrief in the bar!"
"Huh?" I was confused; she was taking this as if it were no big deal, and it was a big deal. At least to me, it was!
"We are approaching a tad too fast, Gabe. I must raise the nose a bit, so hold on." She went back around and started her approach, but this time, she was moving too fast and started to reduce the speed, which was doing strange things to my nervous system, not to mention me stomach. She kept making minor adjustments to the controls, and when she was satisfied, she said (which further agitated me entire brain and body), "I'm about to plonk it down."
"Plonk? Are we coming in for a rough landing?" I croaked, barely able to get the words out.
We were about 40 feet from the ground coming on towards the runway when she eased the plane's nose up slowly and flipped a switch to idle. I sat there in wonder at what she was doing. But then she gradually eased the nose further up as I felt the wheels touch down. The front of the plane began to ease down on its own. She applied the brakes, slowing the plane to a taxi and down the runway. We went to a parking spot. As that was occurring, the Weasil decided to rouse. Yes, he did. I could have hit him with something.
As she eased into the parking spot, she turned the power off.
"Are you okay, Chris? At least this time, you didn't suffer a nosebleed." Amanda said solicitously to her groggy hubby.
"Nosebleed? He's prone to nosebleeds, and he flies a small . . . excuse me, he travels in a small plane?" I asked, unstrapped and standing between their chairs. "Okay, I am out of here," I said, opening the door and climbing out. You don't know how wonderful it was to feel the good green earth . . . correction, the good, snowy earth under me feet.
"Hey, Gabby," Weasil called to me as he unstrapped himself and attempted to stand up. He was swaying from his brain, returning to the real world, and he was not steady on his feet, but Amanda was helping him down.
"What, just what?" I asked, rather tiffed at the two of them.
"IF dis trippy has whetted yer appetitie fer flyin', I'd be happy ta take yer arse up and teach ya how ta fly a plane."
I stood there speechless. Yeah, right. The man who passes out at 1000 feet off the ground is going to stay conscious long enough for him to teach me to fly a plane. Oh yeah, right.
I left them in Manchester. I don't know where they are or what they are doing, but I learned me lesson. I now have two vehicles of transportation—a motor and now an airplane—and I won't be a passenger when Weasil is at the controls. I'm done, so done!
I don't know if I can ever fly in a plane again without all this . . . THIS coming back to haunt me. He has ruined not only driving a car for me, but now I doubt I will look at air travel in the same light EVER.
Gabe (still here and living to tell about it, oi!)
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
I am sorry but I had to laugh. Only you. LOL
ReplyDeleteLOL
ReplyDeletesorry, but I HATE flying, so I don't know how he convinced you to get in a flying cracker box! did you at least get to keep the hat?LMAO
No, gees. It was bad enough THEY were dressed like that WHICH should have been a sight warning all in itself.
DeleteWell we all know Weasil flys by the seat of his pants but in this case it seems so quite literally lol
ReplyDeleteI think the next time he comes round, I'll lend you the hat and goggles and YOU go fly with him. Yes, the original fly boy, that's him, LOL . . . when he's CONSCIOUS.
DeleteUm I don't think so. Not wanting to experience a heart attack just yet :)~
ReplyDeletecome fly wit me, come fly awayyyyy, let's fly awayyyyyy heeheee ya know yer luved it!
ReplyDeleteI don't think so. Been there, done that, survived the flight and wearing the t-shirt.
DeleteWHAT? No vomit?LOL
ReplyDelete