Continued from Wednesday's Part 1! ...

Steering the plane was the first major task. See, the steering wheel on a plane, called the aerator, doesn’t actually do anything while the plane is rolling on the ground. To get it to move in the right direction, you have to steer with your feet – press left to go left and right to go right. And, try not to make the plane look like a stumbling drunk failing a sobriety test as you wobble and veer in the general direction of the runway.

Take off is a breeze … pull up on the aerator while gassing the engine (which is about 5 steps more manual then pressing the pedal). The wind catches you and up you go. Up … and up … until you eventually realize there you aren’t going to fall back to earth. And that’s a big step.

The white noise from the engines and air friction made the flight less than relaxing, and I spent most of it concerned with looking dumb (as previously mentioned), but that didn’t detract from the views – provided you can tear your eyes away form the controls, the horizon guide (to make sure you’re flying straight) and the nose of the plane and look out the windows. Most of my corner of the world is covered in trees, with pops of houses sprouting up here and there in seemingly random order. Highways – even the huge ones – look like ribbons of gray winding through overgrowth.

Landing is tricky. Although my co-pilot insisted that I did most of the work getting the plane back on land, the whole thing happened too fast to process anything. This sensation is called ground rush – commonly experienced by skydivers who think they have miles to go down still .. until the landing site rushes up and clobbers them.

After my lesson in the skies, my shoulders were so tense it took two days, some Advil and a spousal massage to get me back to normal. Most surprising to me was the ability of my co-pilot’s ability to tell direction. I grew up in this city, and I couldn’t have told you which direction was north, let alone how to find the mall from that height.

Either way you take it, the flight was fantastic – if only to brag to my kids how awesome Mommy is. It also gave me a greater respect for the guys who fly to huge airplanes from hubs all over the world. But, most of all, now I think I finally understand how flying becomes an addiction.

Every time I see one of those little two-seaters fly over my head while I’m stuck in traffic or overloaded with surface noise, I’m instantly taken back to the peaceful pilot seat, wishing I had a few more minutes to go before landing.

For more information on the Learn to Fly Program, or to find a participating airplane/airport in your area, visit: http://www.letsgoflying.com/

Labels: High-Flying Adventure, Learn to Fly Program

A pilot once told me that flying is an addiction. The solitude and calm of gliding though the clouds like a bird becomes a natural drug of transportation – a peaceful respite from traffic jams and blabbering radio DJs.

When you're 3,000 feet in the air, banking a two-seater airplane against surface turbulence while peeking down at your childhood home nestled in a carpet of green, peace is not your first thought.

No, it’s more like … Oh my God, I hope I’m doing this right. Please let me not crash this plane into another plane, or say something over the intercom that makes me look like an idiot. I just want the pilot to not think he’s wasting his time of a silly girl with purple hair!

But how did a silly reporter with purple hair wind up worried about the rudders and aerators on an airplane? I recently took place in a fledging flight plan – the Learn to Fly Program – meant to introduce normal folk to the approachability of piloting aircraft. Through a relatively cheap fee of $99 per person, the program offers would-be aviators the opportunity to take their very first pilot’s lesson without any strings attached.

For those of you who are still determined not to become airborne, the facts speak for themselves: Flying is infinitely safer than driving in a car. Based on the sheer number of safety checks required before even turning the engine on, I can tell you I’ve never felt as safe. According to my pilot, Steve, each of the planes must undergo rigorous testing and maintenance plan: Every few thousand miles of logged airtime, the craft are disassembled, cleaned completely with full repairs, and put back together – a fact that really does make you feel better as the engine rumbles to life.

The simple fact is that airplanes – even ones with me at the helm – are completely non-threatening once you’re strapped into the pilot’s seat. The tension of manning the controls brought back intense, half-hidden memories of my first driving lesson: exhilarated fear and undeserved self-confidence.

But before you taxi out, you have to control-alt-delete everything you’ve learned about driving cars.

... ... Be sure to tune in Friday for the final half of Amber's high-flying adventure!

Labels: Byte-Sized, High-Flying Adventure