over the river and through the woods
After one of the entries it asks, �Does anyone have a story about flying?� I thought about it and I have flown a great deal in my life but one story really stands out in my mind.
It was a long time ago, a different President Bush had concluded a different war in the Persian Gulf and the things necessary to conduct a war were moving back to the United States.
My father was in the United States Army at the time and one of the �perks� of his service to our country was flying, �Space Available� on Military Air Transport when space was available. This could mean you were flying in the relative luxury of an Air Force jet designed to transport people in comfort to a destination or you could be traveling on a transport designed to carry a great many things besides people along with the people themselves.
I do not suggest this form of travel.
This particular trip we were on a Marine transport headed to New Jersey from Saudi Arabia. We were bundled up in the middle of the night and packed onto this plane so that we could be at my maternal grandparent�s house for her sister�s disaster of a wedding. That wedding is an unbelievable story all on its own.
I was thirteen and the trip could have been exciting except I was in a cast and had been for the better part of the year. I had an easily taken care of bone condition that got out of hand because most of the pediatricians were sent to the Gulf with the soldiers, who you are well aware are children themselves. Being broken and in a cast is no fun and traveling on a Marine transport is less fun when you are crippled.
We were sitting on a piece of canvas that would have been comfortable had it been stretched taut but it was lax so you were uncomfortably seated with this thick metal bar bending your knees on flimsy canvas. The plane lacked climate control in the part we were seated in or at least seemed that way. It was very cold and loud. We had earplugs in the entire flight because of the noise.
Our plane had a vehicle on it as well. I would like to think it was a tank, I tell people it is a tank and I am sure there is a Marine somewhere who will find this and correct me. I was thirteen and I enjoyed the flight because I was traveling with a tank and men who had valiantly driven it across the desert to liberate a tiny country from the grasp of a tyrant. It was like flying with Batman. That was the day I learned our heroes are ordinary people and ordinary people could be heroes.
One of the light moments on the journey was when we were leaving Iceland and they had forgotten to shut the door. The plane was toddling down towards the runway when it lurched to a halt. A man climbed down from the cockpit, and swore then pulled the door shut. I had earplugs in so I could not tell what he said � just that he did. You learn how to tell what people are saying even if you cannot comprehend the language when you grow up in a foreign country. I can intuit what people are saying by their body language and facial expression. Sometimes nonverbal communication is loud.
Iceland is beautiful from the bit of it we say. It was dawn and I was up in the cockpit � my family was asleep and I was invited to go up and see the plane, how the plane is flown, and watch the pilot land the plane. It was a flawless landing (that information is important for later). I felt like I was on Star Wars � how they show the planet looming from the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon and then rushing towards and under you. It was surreal.
Normally I would not be allowed in the cockpit of the plane but a cast on your adolescent leg is a ticket to get in places you should not be and sometimes is a ticket out of trouble you do not really want.
After Iceland we went to Maine to the northernmost Air Force base in the Continental United States, got off of the plane for breakfast and my favorite arcade game � pinball. I love to play pinball and dad seemed to have an endless supply of quarters that morning. It was a tough flight and the changes in pressure and temperature were doing wonders to the amount of pain the broken bones were causing me. I think he was generous because the family was having a brief respite from my moodiness.
We got on the plane for the last leg of our journey � the flight to New Jersey. This was the segment of the flight where I actually fell asleep. My slumber can be attributed to my pain medication that I was allowed to have after eating breakfast. I woke up during landing. Unbeknownst to us, this was when a young marine pilot (who forgot to shut the door earlier) first learned to land a plane like this one.
Do you remember your dad teaching you to drive a standard? This is what it felt like. I know no words to better describe this to you. It was painful, brutish and thankfully, short. I thought I was going to throw up � and I do not get motion sickness. Dad had to carry me off the plane because the bouncing had left me useless. I remember being strapped onto the cart onto of our luggage and falling back asleep. I woke up at Grandma�s house � Dad�s mother�s house � to the smells of A & P take out.
I love to fly and have flown many, many places but this trip was the one I remember to most.
