In A Flying Funk

By ANN Associate Editor Rob Finfrock

Among my group of friends in the Outside World --  a dark place, away from the airport, my instructors, and Aero-News -- I am the only one who currently flies an airplane. 

That statement has a certain amount of cachet, if only because to many flight is a completely foreign concept. When I began this endeavor (a perfect word to describe flight... there's a reason a space shuttle is named as such) those friends would listen with interest to my tales of slow flight, crab angles and the joys of a full-stall landing.  They listened attentively, though not nearly as wide-eyed as the storyteller. 

They asked questions, and shared in my enthusiasm. It was new, it was exciting, and yes, it had something of an appeal to women, too. There is, after all, no machine extant that is as sexy as a C172 (sorry Jim, but the Glasair runs a very close second.) 

Partly due to the passage of time, interest among the non-aviation Muggles has waned. That's understandable. Lately, however, I find myself being increasingly asked to explain and comment on -- even justify -- items in the news, stories that paint my hobby and passion in a less than flattering light.

"Did you hear about the drunk teenager that stole a plane?" one asked recently. Yes, I did... and while I could throttle that little punk for committing such an asinine act, I also admit some envy at the fact that he landed that plane successfully (albeit only once out of two attempts) with no formal flight training. It took me 10 hours to accomplish the same.

"What do you think of those guys who buzzed the Capitol?" another friend asks. She is referring, of course, to Jim Sheaffer and Troy Martin, the gentlemen who disorientedly flew ("blundered," in the words of one news organization) a Cessna 150 over Washington DC, back in May. She is a good friend, but there was an accusatory tone in her question.

I could argue semantics with her -- they hardly "buzzed" the city -- and I could try to explain the evils of reactionary and unnecessary TFRs and No-Fly Zones. Or perhaps I could show her the Klyde Morris cartoon I have taped to my computer monitor, explaining the consequences should someone get the wild idea to use a light plane as a Kamikaze-style weapon: "A little pile of Cessna on an unscratched nuclear plant." 

Instead, I find myself meekly replying, "they shouldn't have been there." Simple, plain, and correct, but a tired response borne of sheer and utter resignation, as well.

With every crash reported in the news, comes a new round of questions. I was asked "will that happen if the plane I'm on lands during a thunderstorm?" after the Toronto A340 incident. Curiously enough, I was asked this during a thunderstorm, a common occurrence this time of year in Dallas. Our office building is under the flight path for Love Field, and at the moment a Southwest 737 was flying overhead, heading towards certain disaster on 31L.

My response to my friend was "I'll bet my logbook, my car, and everything in my wallet, that that plane will land just fine... as do 99.999999 percent of airplanes everywhere." Needless to say, he did not collect.

My boss (again, in the Outside World) often tells me of how miffed he gets when planes from the local airport -- the same one I fly from -- fly over his house. "Can't they fly over somewhere else?" he has asked me. 

He lives several miles from the airport, on what would be a very extended downwind. At that point, any airplanes flying overhead are at least 1500 feet above the ground.  I fear that he is one of those who call to complain to the airport --  or worse, to city hall -- about the noise.

To people outside the world of aviation, all of these questions are perfectly valid, and I don't mean to discount them. After all, how many peoples' only definitions of the world of flight have been formed by experiences with cramped flights into LAX, or the latest incident reported on CBS?  Everyone reading this knows very well that flying, and especially general aviation, has taken a pounding of late... a sad trend that shows little sign of waning.

As was noted and celebrated on this very site, this past Friday was National Aviation Day. It was the day for the pilot community to stand tall, and encourage others to take part in and support the general aviation community. It was one day for us to do what programs like Be-A-Pilot, as well as organizations such as AOPA, do everyday. God love them for it, too.

I said before, flying is my passion. I cannot describe the feeling I get from taking a Skyhawk around the pattern, or even watching as others do the same. I should be the exact person to stand up on such a day, and tell others that at the very least they should get out to their local airports, $49 coupon in hand, and take a demo flight, because they might just like it. They may even love it, and realize they can't quite live without being able to experience that feeling again, and again...

Instead, though, I sat quietly, and I'm kicking myself for it now. There will be other opportunities for me to make up for it, of course -- why should there be only one Aviation Day? Somehow, though, I can't quite shake the feeling that the Outside World is very actively against us.

A prescient message sent in Friday by ANN reader Richard Musser of Mojave Valley (AZ) sums up perfectly this funk that I'm feeling. 

"Ain't that the way, "Todays The Day" followed by seven TFRs."

Help.

FMI: Comments? Criticism? Suggestions? Let Us Have It!