A Dream Come True

My family gave me a greatest birthday gift ever---a gift certificate to go soaring in a sailplane. I took the wife and kids on a day trip to the Kutztown Airport. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted to learn to fly a sailplane.

Grinning like an idiot, I handed my gift certificate to the lady at the front desk. She introduced me to Mike, the pilot. What do ya say Bill?

Mike took me and my family out to see the sailplane I'd be flying. The kids got a chance to sit in the cockpit and play with the controls. He was trying to explain the instruments to my daughter. I don't think he understood that she didn't give a shit. Mike, she's 8.

Within 5 minutes, Mike found the pilot for the tow plane, adjusted my seat so I could reach the foot peddles, and tightened my 4-point seat belt. Mike gave the signal to the pilot in the tow plane and we were off.

Almost as soon as we started moving, our plane was off the ground. The tow plane used the rest of the runway before it lifted off. Amazing.

We were towed upwind toward Hawk Mountain When we reached an altitude of 5000 feet, Mike let me pull the towline release lever. It got very quiet as the tow plane dropped off to the left and we pulled up and circled to the right.

After he gave me a brief flight lesson, I asked if we could do some aerobatic maneuvers...maybe a loop or something. Well, according to some crazy regulation, we were required to have parachutes in order to fly inverted. Boring. He suggested that we try some Lazy Eights. Yawn.

After Mike demostrated a Lazy Eight, we were just south of Hawk Mountain, which is just north of Pukesville. Mike calmly suggested that I open the air vent to get some fresh air:

Mike:Just stick your hand out there and direct some of the cool air toward your face.
me:Great. Thanks.
me (in head):I am Mike. I am Can't you see my goddamn hand sticking out of the vent? It's not working! I'm still in a cold fucking sweat!
Mike:Guess it's good that we didn't do a loop...
me:Yeah.
me (in head):Oh come on! How about I take that control stick and shove it up your ass! Could you do a loop then? Could you do a loop with a control stick up your ass, Mike? And I'm still not getting enough air here! Aren't there any other air vents!?

Mike handed my a barf bag. "Just in case." The barf bag worked much better than the air vent. Eggs, coffee, and toast. Beautiful. Mike suggested that we head back to the airport. Since I was feeling better after my best Mary-Kate Olsen at 5000 feet, I asked if we could keep flying.

So we did. I wanted to find a thermal. He found one.

Mike:Thermals can be pretty turbulent. This one isn't that bad.
me:...
me (in head):No shit. Is that why the whole plane is shaking? Asshole.
me:Can you show me how fast this thing can go?
me (in head):What the hell did I just say? Idiot!
Mike:Sure! I can take her up to about 70 knots.

Mike pointed the plane down at the earth and we plunged into a steep dive. I brought the partially filled barf bag closer to my lips. Mike circled around south of the runway, which is right over Violently Ill Town. Mike deployed the spoilers, making the plane shake even more. I began to puke uncontrollablly into my ever-heavier barf bag. It was hard to stay on target with the plane trembling. By the time we came to a stop, I had managed to splatter second-hand eggs, coffee, and toast on my shirt, sunglasses, neck, arms, and seatbelt. Perfect landing.

On the way home I chewed three pieces of Eclipse gum, but my wife still refused to kiss me.