for the love of planes

call me odd.

i love air shows.

im not sure why.

maybe cuz it was something i did with my dad...

or maybe its in the genes somewhere.

dont know.

but one day i would like to fly.

even if i cant afford the gas.

would like to say i am a pilot.

have felt like this for a very long time.

and when my dad would take aenon on trips to the local airport,

she being about 2...he taught her the difference between

a prop and a jet before she knew her colors...

i can still hear her being prompted by my dad,

big smile on his face-her propped in his arms...

 and her cute pronunciation of the words.

they used to go to the airport and watch the planes land and take off.

for hours and hours.

theyd be gone all afternoon.

hed sit his little diapered girl on the wing of a tethered 

plane and there they would sit.

and watch.

and he would teach her about it all.

her little brain taking it all in.

usually with a toy plane in her hand.

something i grew up with too.

a fascination with flight.

so intense i remember years ago at a

24th of july celebration, a formation of jets passed over the stadium we were in.

the roar was incredible.

a wave of emotion took me over.

i cried. 

not sure why, but i did.

how embarrassing.

what idiot cries when planes fly over?

me.

 

so we ventured into 100 degree weather.

(well, it sure felt like it).

and found a nice space on the blacktop.

and patiently watched the sky.

with a colorful array of $4 asian parasols shielding the sun,

and $5 sunglasses.

all for a good cause.

saw a b-25 (only one of five in the world) and our tour guide the old fighter pilot

got to talk to a young fighter pilot.

just 30 years younger...with 200 hours of combat time. 

they spoke the same language.

and were saying things i didnt understand.

apparently getting in formation like that is pretty difficult.

and when we got to the restaurant after it all...

(after a 5 mile walk...and sunburned cheeks)

we begged the waitress for water,

and washed it all down with a good steak.

at the place where they cut off your tie and pin it to the wall.

 so i got to go to another one.

and loved it.

these images tell the story, but too bad i couldnt bottle the whiny scream.

and the smell of jet fuel.

i think its a sound thing.

and i like a throaty exhaust on my car too.

what is wrong with me?