#19
Fly an airplane.
No joke.
And I did.
It was February of 2009 when I unearthed my "30 Things" journal. I still remember the sense of purpose I had at 21, strutting into Barnes and Noble, carefully selecting a journal worthy enough to contain my list. I went home and cranked out the first batch of goals. Try sushi. Own a car. Go to Italy (I figured Italy would be a great 30th birthday present to myself...) In an overly ambitious moment, I jotted down "fly an airplane."
Let me offer a bit more background. In 2009, I was three years out of college and still bouncing from job to job. I was in retail management right out of school, thought I found a dream job in spring of 2007 when I was hired by a hockey team (which promptly went under two months later), then spent time in community relations with a nonprofit, left to work in college recruiting, and rang in 2009 as a front desk receptionist for a mortgage company. I was not making any money and seriously worried that this was the course for the rest of my life. Resigned to my barely-above-minimum-wage income and self-inflicted fate as a history major, I found my journal of dreams and goals. Seeing them there in permanent ink left a pit in my stomach and a burning in my chest. The dreams seemed to taunt me, totally out of reach. Just when I was sure I couldn't feel any sorrier for myself, my eyes landed on "fly an airplane." I remember giving myself a self-deprecating laugh and carelessly tossing the journal back into its dark, forgotten corner. What was I thinking when I wrote that? Of all the items on the list, it was the most absurd. When did I have time to go to flight school? I definitely didn't have the money, and who was I fooling? I was a humanities major--the only numbers that were relevant to me were various historical dates. I pursued liberal arts because I can't do math. Physics? Forget it. In the art and science of flying, both of those subjects come into play. I remember feeling so desperate for some sort of sign that God still had my best interests in mind. Life was not making any sense. It felt like whatever I prayed about, I got the opposite result.
In May of that same year, the family made plans to travel to Maryland for an air show. It is a long story of which I will spare you the details. Suffice to say, attendance at at least one air show per year is a reality in my parent's house. Blame it on my grandfather who had a career as a military aviator. The local show was not happening in 2009, so we figured a trip to the DC area and Andrews AFB would fulfill the annual air show obligation. Through a series of events (and many air shows) we came to know Team Oracle and have had the privilege to spend time in their VIP tent. Great people--I can honestly say that the pilot, Sean Tucker, is one of the most amazing people I've met. We chose the show at Andrews b/c Team Oracle was on the schedule. (I guess you could say that we're total Tucker groupies.) We had our spot in the tent on a surprisingly chilly day for mid-May. I remember shivering most of the show. As for the show itself, there is not much to say about it. There are airplanes and helicopters, jetplanes and prop planes, Hueys and Apaches, old and new, young and old, flight demos, aerobatic shows, skydivers...that's pretty much it. Twice I've been in attendance when the president has been in town and they've had to suspend the show and shut down all runways for Air Force One. As a kid you get your picture in the cockpit. As a young adult, you stalk good looking pilots. Once, we even lost my brother at an air show. Really, the only thing we had not done was actually fly the plane.
(Cue clunky segue.)
After the performance of The Collaborators, a team made up of Sean Tucker, his son Eric, and talented pilots Ben Freelove and Bill Stein, made for the Oracle tent. Sean saw us right away and spent some time chatting, catching up. As he was headed away to prep for his solo flight, he asked my dad: "Will you guys be in Dayton this year?--I'd love to take your girls for a flight."
(Pause for effect.)
Are you serious? That sort of thing doesn't just happen. My mind immediately returned to that depressing day when I found my "30 Things" journal and quickly chucked it away. I can't explain any of it other than to say that God left me speechless. He reminded me in a rather dramatic way that He's still watching.
The entire experience was amazing. We made the short drive from Dayton to Piqua, a small town with signs warning against cruising and loud noise.
No joke.
And I did.
It was February of 2009 when I unearthed my "30 Things" journal. I still remember the sense of purpose I had at 21, strutting into Barnes and Noble, carefully selecting a journal worthy enough to contain my list. I went home and cranked out the first batch of goals. Try sushi. Own a car. Go to Italy (I figured Italy would be a great 30th birthday present to myself...) In an overly ambitious moment, I jotted down "fly an airplane."
Let me offer a bit more background. In 2009, I was three years out of college and still bouncing from job to job. I was in retail management right out of school, thought I found a dream job in spring of 2007 when I was hired by a hockey team (which promptly went under two months later), then spent time in community relations with a nonprofit, left to work in college recruiting, and rang in 2009 as a front desk receptionist for a mortgage company. I was not making any money and seriously worried that this was the course for the rest of my life. Resigned to my barely-above-minimum-wage income and self-inflicted fate as a history major, I found my journal of dreams and goals. Seeing them there in permanent ink left a pit in my stomach and a burning in my chest. The dreams seemed to taunt me, totally out of reach. Just when I was sure I couldn't feel any sorrier for myself, my eyes landed on "fly an airplane." I remember giving myself a self-deprecating laugh and carelessly tossing the journal back into its dark, forgotten corner. What was I thinking when I wrote that? Of all the items on the list, it was the most absurd. When did I have time to go to flight school? I definitely didn't have the money, and who was I fooling? I was a humanities major--the only numbers that were relevant to me were various historical dates. I pursued liberal arts because I can't do math. Physics? Forget it. In the art and science of flying, both of those subjects come into play. I remember feeling so desperate for some sort of sign that God still had my best interests in mind. Life was not making any sense. It felt like whatever I prayed about, I got the opposite result.
In May of that same year, the family made plans to travel to Maryland for an air show. It is a long story of which I will spare you the details. Suffice to say, attendance at at least one air show per year is a reality in my parent's house. Blame it on my grandfather who had a career as a military aviator. The local show was not happening in 2009, so we figured a trip to the DC area and Andrews AFB would fulfill the annual air show obligation. Through a series of events (and many air shows) we came to know Team Oracle and have had the privilege to spend time in their VIP tent. Great people--I can honestly say that the pilot, Sean Tucker, is one of the most amazing people I've met. We chose the show at Andrews b/c Team Oracle was on the schedule. (I guess you could say that we're total Tucker groupies.) We had our spot in the tent on a surprisingly chilly day for mid-May. I remember shivering most of the show. As for the show itself, there is not much to say about it. There are airplanes and helicopters, jetplanes and prop planes, Hueys and Apaches, old and new, young and old, flight demos, aerobatic shows, skydivers...that's pretty much it. Twice I've been in attendance when the president has been in town and they've had to suspend the show and shut down all runways for Air Force One. As a kid you get your picture in the cockpit. As a young adult, you stalk good looking pilots. Once, we even lost my brother at an air show. Really, the only thing we had not done was actually fly the plane.
(Cue clunky segue.)
After the performance of The Collaborators, a team made up of Sean Tucker, his son Eric, and talented pilots Ben Freelove and Bill Stein, made for the Oracle tent. Sean saw us right away and spent some time chatting, catching up. As he was headed away to prep for his solo flight, he asked my dad: "Will you guys be in Dayton this year?--I'd love to take your girls for a flight."
(Pause for effect.)
Are you serious? That sort of thing doesn't just happen. My mind immediately returned to that depressing day when I found my "30 Things" journal and quickly chucked it away. I can't explain any of it other than to say that God left me speechless. He reminded me in a rather dramatic way that He's still watching.
The entire experience was amazing. We made the short drive from Dayton to Piqua, a small town with signs warning against cruising and loud noise.
 |
| We made the short drive from Dayton to Piqua, a small town with signs warning against cruising and loud noise. |
 |
| Suiting up! Just in case we decide to skydive today--but my pilot and I agreed it was a day for flying. Not skydiving. |
 |
| That's me on the left!! |
 |
Landing after a successful
(and FUN) flight!!
|
The entire experience was amazing. I highly recommend it. And I'd totally do it again. :)
Dream big.
He cares about the details.
Even seemingly silly ones.
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