Chapter 28 - Bermuda I
It was nice to be done with work, and finally on our way back to our vacation. A real vacation now. No more agenda, no more intrigue now. Just... sand, boat decks, and I was intrigued by the idea of having the option of staying in a cabana. One of those little beach shacks, woven out of... well? Whatever in the hell they weave them out of. I only know them from pictures and movies. As soon as you see the thatched hut? You know you're supposed to realize you're looking at what is purported to be paradise. The spoiled women of leisure on the boat always mentioned Bermuda.
The ones that were catty show-offs would ever so casually drop the name Bermuda. Catty listeners would say how of course, why they were just there in... whatever month they claimed. I'm used to this routine, when someone in my level of social stratification mentions... Hawaii. Trying to politely join the conversation, I asked if anyone had been to Hawaii, I hadn't been there yet, and was curious.
I'd surmise I marked myself as from the lower class by first admitting I hadn't been there yet, then even more by saying I was looking forward to going one day. I had heard it was heaven. The reports I got back were lackluster. I never knew Hawaii had such a bad reputation. Until now, of course.
First off, everyone admitted. The weather? Gorgeous, apparently year round. And, the beach parties were nice. That was about it. The place was deemed to have a people problem. Apparently, who wants to go on such a common vacation destination. You have to rub elbows with every loud foul mouthed buffoon that got some overtime that year. I guess heaven just isn't heaven, if its not exclusive to the upper crust.
Then? The prices. Every single island there, has been commercialized and overdeveloped. The entire economy, is simply tourism. Then, onto the matter of the attitude of the people that live and work there. The joke is, the unofficial state motto. Die, main-lander scum... but? Come and leave us all your money. The leisure ladies joshed about it. What was the point of high prices supposed to be, if it didn't keep the undesirables out.
I realized. I'm one of the undesirables to be kept out of Hawaiian heaven. This, was before Francois started promenading me and Panic around, so everyone got the hint. We were not to be treated like that. The captain's public favor, finished it all off. When they all did a complete flip flop, I just smiled and nodded a lot, with any of the ones that had been that way previously.
But I was on Hawaii's problems, right? I might as well finish it off. It seems the locals? Have a huge drug problem. The men, tend to be naturally short and fat. With what one woman claimed were pig faces. I guess women of leisure expect a romp in the sand with something more muscular and svelte. The men were more polite about the local girls. Most of their faces, yes, it was something different. But, the men enjoyed the island girls bodies. In particular? The grass skirt beach dancers seemed to be highly prized. The girls that could actually surf, were another spectacle.
The leisure ladies had little knowing smiles, when they talked about other island paradise destinations. Jamaica seemed to be a favorite. It didn't take all that much imagination to read between the lines. If you wanted a young black buck to mess your coif up, Jamaica had an island of "pool boys" to choose from.
I find my time around the upper crust, has given me a sort of Hawaii view of most of them. The big boat, the cruise, the exotic ports of call? All fairly well paradise level, to be fair about it. It just irks me I can't have this, without rubbing elbows with girly girls I'd like nothing more than to mash their face in.
I wouldn't do it, of course. Doesn't mean I don't understand where the urge comes from. I'm reminded that while I'm not into class warfare? Hating on rich people. I can, however... easily see how people that are like that? Got that way. They probably spent some time around them and developed a distaste.
I did find out, though. Not all the girls of leisure are like that. Particularly some of the ones that married up, and well. They stand a chance of winking and nodding at me, and making a silly face when one of the spoiled rotten ones goes off on a tangent. One I get along with very well? Clued me in. There's naturally no hard and fast rules on it, but... if the girl came from old money? Excellent chance she's a complete ass. If she married up, and the husband came from old money? Almost as bad.
She tousled my hair and smiled warm, while telling me her secret. If the man and the woman both came from normal backgrounds, but rose up the ladder? That's your best chance they have a decent attitude. Which is where there's a big split. Some want to pretend they come from old money, and go out of their way making sure everyone knows. Which, of course, simply clues everyone in what their true breeding really is. Then, the other kind of new rich. They enjoy it, naturally, but... they retain many of their normal ways.
Panic admits this is more or less mirrored in the men. He's put together a little crew of sorts, guys that want to hang out in the engine room and play cards and drink beer with the boys. I'd say it was another "Wizzy moment" when he asked me to join him one time, but hell's bells, there are so many of those times? I'd lose track if I tried to keep score.
Wizzy was smiling and shrugging for most of the game. I'd been with Wiz and Elise while hunting. One of the quarry, had been a small town madam that had a long term affair with the criminal that ran the small town to suit him. She oversaw the speakeasy club and had a gig where she smoked a cigar, and played some poker games with the boys. Wiz was playing up to her, and she dragged him into a game for some hands.
It was bittersweet for me to ape her performance. After a few drinks, I couldn't stop at just a cigar to entertain the boys. I explained myself. I grew up in a farming town, on a working ranch. I played sports with the local boys, and never played with dolls and tea parties. So, when the local young boys went through their chewing tobacco and spitting phase, playing baseball in the summers? I was one of the boys. Me too.
And yeah, a couple of the engine crew guys had chewing tobacco, so I tried a pinch of each until I found a sweet one I could tolerate. When I asked where the spittoon was? They all laughed jovially. Seawater cools the engine components, in place of the sealed water and radiator system in a car. There's a trough on either side of the engine room, that feeds into outflow pipes. They have to see the water moving, or risk blowing an engine worth quite a lot.
They got a kick out of seeing me spitting a dark stream of tobacco juice into the trough. The bottom of a ship, where you expect engine and cargo holds to be... are separated into sections, called bulkheads. Panic had to explain, that its so if the ship takes a hole below the water line? Only one compartment can fill up. You just seal that bulkhead off, and you just lose some gas mileage on the trip. It doesn't even affect anything other than top speed and some inches on the waterline.
So, the nearest cargo bulkhead next to the engine room? Was the stick-ball stadium. Its nearly empty. One of the guys works the PA system, and the voice and jokes boom and reverberate. Its basically a wiffle ball game. Its an automatic home run, only if you get your hit to go into a large vent, to the next cargo hold bulkhead. They open the waterproof sealing door to the vent, and remove the large grate.
The captain and engineer tolerate the game, but it does violate every safety mandate in the book. I guess when there's no risk of icebergs or being torpedoed? Its fine. Panic told me the next morning at breakfast. My nickname with the engine crew is now... The Spitter. I suppose it takes no imagination whatsoever, what some of the jokes Panic shares with the engine crew now would naturally be, right? Pretty sure you get that one without me drawing you a picture.
Once in the air, General Suarez and Vaco were out of sight and out of mind. The pilots were in a happier than normal mood. As that turned out? They were off rotation as soon as they got back, they were invited to join Francois for the run to Bermuda and were looking forward to it. Christ's throne, its like the whole world has been to Bermuda, save for me and Panic. We're going to remedy that quite soon, however.
Vladimir had a twinkle and a smile, which was different from his usual seriousness. I had to keep asking him what it was, it was obviously something.
"Business meeting, was successful."
I indulged the game.
"Okay."
"Focus and dedication? Not nearly so important. To enjoy vacation."
He grinned and pointed at the drink cart. Of course. The expensive vodka we bought him at the duty free liquor shop at the airport. We all had a couple of fingers of top shelf vodka on ice in crystal highballs. We started laughing and having general silly fun for a little while. Things like fresh squeezed mango and pineapple juice with pulp? Well, you can't get a better mixer or chaser.
The pilots are never what you would call stuffy or stiff, but they were always all business flying. Until now. We were making rather merry, when the main pilot's voice cut over the PA. Which was odd, because they keep the door open, and they can just yell back to get our attention.
"Now. If the passengers are interested, you can see something very important and noteworthy. Outside either side of the plane."
We didn't see it. Vlad was giggling. The PA announced voice said we should look harder. Nothing we could see... then it happened.
"Coming up, in three... two... one! That's it, folks. We're now flying in international airspace."
Apparently, we crossed a line on a map, that signified thus. I figured it was a pilot thing. Maybe if you fly internationally? Its a bragging right. Perhaps when you're in the pilot's lounge, trying to score a cute stewardess on layover.
But? Not so. The PA voice cut back in.
"For those passengers who don't understand the significance of this? Your pilot will spell it out for you."
We waited.
"Fuck the Federal Aviation Administration!"
Vladimir cheered, and joined in. This was some signal for fun, I now saw.
"Fuck police! Fuck NATO!"
Then, about thirty seconds later. The same voice cut through once again on the intercom PA system. All calm and cultured, like you would expect.
"This is your pilot. I would like to apologize, for making light of the fine, fine job that the Federal Aviation Administration does perform. Ensuring that everyone takes off, flies, and lands safely. Please don't think that passenger safety is not just job number one, its the only job. Thank you."
Then ten seconds later? A surprisingly concerned voice. The same voice, just now all full of emotion.
"We do seem to have developed a problem. Don't worry, I'm sure the plane will stay in the air. Well, probably, anyways. Rest assured, we're trying to find the nature of the problem. We'll keep you updated, and remember. Your safety, the safety of each and every passenger? Is of the utmost importance to the pilots."
Me and Panic looked at each other. I said it first.
"Oh, shit."
Vlad wolfed his drink, and tossed the ice cubes into the garbage can with a lid that locked. Me and Panic exchanged glances, and followed suit quickly. Then, Vlad sat down and buckled his landing and takeoff and turbulence seat belt. We shared another glance, and hurriedly did that as well. The seat belt lighted sign was on.
"This is your pilot, again. We have an update. We've managed to locate the problem with the aircraft. Its a slight mechanical issue, in the cockpit here."
Panic looked at me and shrugged. Then, the serious voice was gone. The pilot yelled into the intercom over the PA.
"It seems to be a loose nut behind the controls!"
Vlad giggled and smiled, and me and Panic chuckled nervously.
We got thrown back into the seat and you could hear the sport jet hit full thrust. When the G's quit, it was because we were at maximum speed. We had been traveling at high thrust to make time both ways on this trip already. But, the pilots were easing into it. Like you didn't realize daddy was doing 90 on the toll road late at night. This, was daddy winking at you. Mom wasn't in the car, and he punched it for fun. The pilot and copilot started having fun, and we could hear them talking on their intercom to each other.
"How's my six?"
"Falling back."
"Port's clear. Starboard?"
"Looking--- uh oh. Bogie coming in, at two, seven, zero."
"Recommendation."
"Impact, is imminent. Recommend evasive action."
"Oh, yeah... banking hard left. On your command."
The co pilot counted down.
"In three... two... one... execute!"
The jet screamed and banked hard left. I'm not talking making a left hand turn, I mean it felt like we were full sideways. Pinned to the seat, like some amusement park ride. I felt like a little girl again, on a roller coaster ride. Glancing out one window? Clouds and sky. Then out the other window? All water.
Another mock exchange went on, and it seemed the only wise choice was to bank hard right. Same deal, but the water and skies out the windows? Reversed positions.
"Shit. Missile alert. Incoming. From your six. Roll out, on my command. Three... two... one... execute!"
They did barrel rolls. One full left, one full right after leveling out for a half a second in between. Then? Corkscrews. Several barrel rolls in rapid succession, first to one side, and instead of leveling out, into the corkscrew to the other rotation side.
"We need altitude! Now!"
The sport jet went all but straight up. Instead of leveling out? We felt momentary loss of gravity, until we started down the other way we had come up. Nose down. Gravity now on our side, no longer fighting us as it had on the way up. A couple little corkscrews then we leveled out close to the water.
Full thrust practically nose down, is a rush. Followed by the sudden G force as they whipped into level flight, quick. It felt like an elephant was about to sit on you? But thought better of it and lifted off and went about his business elsewhere.
"Fuck this. If he won't let us shake him? Come up behind him! The hard way!"
The pilot got some altitude, leveled out... then did a surprisingly quick 360. After a couple more loop the loops, the pilot did half a corkscrew and flew, essentially, completely upside down. His silly voice cut the PA.
"Hold on, folks. This doohickey, that tells me when I'm level? Seems to be malfunctioning."
"Just whack it, it should pop loose."
I couldn't help but laugh, as we heard the booming of the microphone being obviously whacked with a finger.
"Hey, I got it."
The flight leveled out, and everything went back to calm and safe. The calm pilot voice was back on.
"This is your pilot. Just wanted you all to know, that we've located the loose nut behind the controls, and tightened it up. We should be okay now. Enjoy the rest of your fight."
The seat belt lighted sign went out, and Vlad got up and made us all another drink. The pilot came back and joined us, laughing and joking. After a while, the copilot came back and joined in as well. Vlad was chuckling, obviously waiting for another joke, because they all had a new audience. Us. The pilot did it.
"Now, I'm the pilot, right?"
The copilot nodded sagely.
"Why."
"Well. If I'm the pilot, and... you, are supposedly the copilot?"
"Yeah."
Dramatic pause.
"Who the hell's flying the god damn plane, ass-hat!"
The pilot winked.
"Autopilot. I swear, its one of the best you can get. I fly solo across the Pacific? I could probably take a nap."
The co pilot took over.
"It has advanced settings. I've tested it. If there's another plane within fifty miles, and just the one plane? It actually steers around it, so gentle you don't even realize its happening. CD, CA system. Top, of the freaking line."
Panic wondered aloud.
"CD, CA?"
"Collision detection, collision avoidance. CD is all but standard on all commercial birds with jet engines? CA is the new toy these days."
Panic chuckled.
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... how exactly does one test... collision avoidance systems."
The copilot chuckled.
"I'm flying this plane. Your pilot? In a rental. After a few hands free fly by's, we, uh... you know. Started coming closer, and... I'm there to take over, but... we wanted to see how good it works."
"Pretty well, I'm guessing."
"I ended up, at the end of the test? On autopilot. He's trying to come in at me. From any angle he can get. Honestly, you can't hit us, if you try."
Panic giggled.
"Why in the hell, don't all jet planes have one of those then."
The pilot started laughing.
"The FAA? Hasn't approved it, for commercial jet airliners. They're not convinced? Wait for it... that its safe enough for that yet."
We both asked and pressed him for more.
"Okay, I'm being funny. There's actually a good reason. Collision detection, is just an alarm. Possible impact. An advanced CD system? Gives you time and distance estimates, and one like ours? Takes both plane's speed, direction and position into account, and even predicts where the collision will most likely happen, if nothing changes. Collision avoidance? Is a feature of the auto pilot system."
He paused.
"The two most dangerous things about flying. Takeoff, and landing. And for a commercial airliner, taking off and landing will usually be at some big busy airport. All those planes taking off, one after another. And, all those planes circling, waiting to land. Its not like a car, where you have visibility. Cameras help? But now you're watching TV screens, instead of instrumentation. And, you're kind of at the mercy of the air traffic controller."
"That's who's in charge?"
"Yeah. They have a big giant screen, with all the plane's call numbers. The traffic controller, honestly is the only one with the big picture to look at. You have to follow instructions. When an air traffic controller tells you to climb? You climb. To avoid a close call? They tell us to bank right, and the other plane to bank the other way. And the more planes circling, the more planes coming and going... the hairier it gets. The only thing that compares? I guess, a giant busy parking lot, at a big shopping mall."
I said it.
"Lots of little fender benders."
He shrugged.
"When I'm out in the open? I get warning off radar, a long ways off. I can usually make contact with the other plane. With modern radar, GPS, better computer screens? You couldn't be safer. But, all those planes around a big airport when its rush hour, it can get hectic. Throw in some fog at night, and it gets spooky. Collision detection is great then, but letting the auto pilot bank off? No way. Avoiding one collision, could put you into two more."
I asked why landing and taking off, were so dangerous.
"You know what stall speed is?"
I shook my head no, Panic raised his hand and smiled. He pointed at Panic.
"I was bored, in a library once? I found a book on the flight equation. They started with the Wright brothers first airfoil, showed the basic math equation. Then? The rest of the book, slowly added to the equation. After I had worked out all the equations, and had all the parts explained in each chapter? They were coming up through the development of planes. When I was done, I felt like I understood how planes work."
He nodded at Panic.
"You probably do."
He pointed at me.
"And you?"
"No."
"Want the basic explanation?"
"Sure."
"Everyone thought the Wright brothers, at Kitty Hawk? Were crazy. Two smart brothers, who were unusually educated in math, for the time and place they were at. Here's how it happened. You ever try to carry something big and flat, when its windy out? Like, sheets of plywood or drywall."
I giggled.
"Yeah."
"Okay. So, you understand a lot. You just don't know it. The bigger the piece of wood, the harder you feel the wind. Right?"
"Definitely."
"The Wright brothers, knew flight was possible. After all, birds fly. The one brother, got the idea from carrying sheets of wood, on a windy day. Also? Try holding a big sheet of anything in moving water. You can't hold on. Moving air or water? Creates some serious power. That's where they got the idea. Now. What they did, was develop the first... airfoil."
"Aluminum foil?"
He folded a blank piece of paper in half. He pushed the top edge up and pinched it to hold it. Creating the basic shape. He moved his hands to demonstrate air.
"No. Imagine a teardrop, falling. Cut it in half, down the middle. That's the basic airfoil shape. Its actually pretty simple. More air passes on the flat side, underneath? Per unit of time. Than the longer path over the curved top. Top and bottom are air moving at the same speed. But, the shortest thing between two points? Is a straight line. So, more air passing per second below, than above. That, creates lift. You want more lift? Just make the wing longer and wider. Higher speed, is more lift too."
"More is better."
"Yes and no. You get the wing too long, too wide? Its getting weaker. Now. This airfoil design? Creates, in the end... stall speed. Which is simply the speed you need to be moving at, to get enough lift going, to take off."
"Okay. I follow you."
"Taking off, is fairly straightforward. Get going fast enough, before you run out of runway, and... you take off. Honestly, with a long enough runway? Any idiot can gun the throttle, and take off. When conditions are good."
"And landing?"
"That's the scary part. To land? You have to know your plane's stall speed. The idea is, you come down on a gentle angle. Skim just over the ground. Just over, stall speed. Then? Its called flaps. I throw flaps, and these big things drop, and... no more lift. You drop, like a rock."
"Mm. You make it sound easy."
"When conditions are perfect? It can be. Here's the problem. What if you have a strong tailwind. If you're in a little plane, a beginner's plane. Nice, slow, stall speed. If your tailwind, is faster then your stall speed? You literally can't land. Go the other direction, to land. Now? You got a headwind, and its faster than your stall speed. When there's strong winds gusting, tiny slow planes are grounded."
He paused.
"Its all about stall speed. A higher stall speed? Is better. But now, you're landing at higher speed. If you have a problem? Think highway speeds, not parking lot speeds. Also, you need a longer runway when you have high stall speeds. For taking off, and landing. Now. At a small airport? I can land the direction I want, to account for head or tail wind. I can't do that, at a big international airport."
"What was your bumpy landing from."
"Bad crosswinds. Cross winds, can be headwind or tailwind? Or, any angle around the clock. That one, was just about the worst angle for a cross wind to come in on me at. That's a crab landing. I can't be level. I can't be straight. And when I flap and drop? My landing gear is higher up, and the wheels are all at a different height. Flying a plane in the air? Is actually easy. Anyone can take the controls. You saw that."
"That, was fun. I can actually say... I flew a jet plane."
"Getting your pilot's license, has components. You start with classroom time. So you understand stall speed. You fly little models, in front of a big fan. They demonstrate it, with two different models. One, has a slow stall speed. The other? High stall speed. You get to control the speed of the fan, to take off and land, the model, on a string. But? So you understand the dangers... they set the fan's lowest speed. Or, they add another fan, to be the crosswind."
"Sounds complicated."
"Anyone with a lukewarm IQ, can grasp the basics. Navigation, with paper and pencil? Was why pilots had to be smarter, in the old days."
He pointed at Panic again.
"Let me guess. Math boy. You can handle vectors."
"Sure. Physics class, 101 material."
"You'd breeze through the classroom. You understand the flight equation? Vector math? You'd be teachers pet."
He pointed back to me.
"Next? You take the controls up in the air, with the instructor. You pass the classroom, you're allowed to fly with a certified instructor. You learn how your plane banks and turns. He tells you to take a bearing, and you bank to it. He gives you altitude changes, and you do what he says. Climb or descend. Next? He lets you take off, on a calm day with great conditions. No other planes around. But, there's no way around it. You have to take the controls, and land eventually. A small airport in the middle of nowhere? Is the best place to learn."
He paused.
"Then? You need night time flying. You need to be able to know what's going on, by watching only instrumentation. You get into a bad fog, in the middle of a dark night? You need to know what you're doing, believe me. And you take off and land, again at night."
He then shrugged.
"The final step? You have to do solo flights. The instructor, has a checklist. When you have enough time, and enough check marks? You get your pilot's license. You? Are allowed to drive a plane. If you can afford the fuel and the maintenance? You can just wake up one day, and... decide. Hey honey? Let's fly here. There. Another country? Go."
"You made it your job."
He nodded. Smiled.
"You can take anyone up, that wants to go. Just like you can have anyone in your car. Its your decision. But? To fly people, for money. You need a commercial endorsement. But, here's the best thing when you get it."
"What."
"Your customers? Pay for the fuel. The maintenance. I was flying, for free. And? when I'm taking guys with money, that want to go on remote fly fishing and hunting trips. I'm there, with them. I get to go, again, for free? On expensive fishing and hunting trips. It was heaven. I couldn't believe it. I was making a good yearly salary, having fun."
"Why did you quit."
"Well. You ever have a shit car? Ugly, but it runs. You get to see people, with brand new sports cars. You want to fly higher, fly faster. A jet engine, is a different animal. Its another class, another endorsement. But. You get that sport jet, you can fly rich people around. The wife was already tickled pink, flying on all those fly fishing trips, for free with me. Now? She gets to fly all over the world."
"Then, you got hooked up with Francois."
"Yeah. I told you how it happened. I took ground fire, and handled it. Engine on fire, and its all happening close to the ground, over mountains and jungles. He offered to buy me a brand new plane, to replace mine that got shot up? If he would be my only customer. I mean, I get to fly one of the best sport jets out there. I draw a nice yearly salary. I get lots of time off, to spend time with the wife and kid."
"We're on our way to Bermuda, and we're going to stay a while."
"Hey. How many people do you know... that actually get paid, to take vacations."
"Dream job."
"You bet. And Francois? Is more than generous. My boy? Thinks he wants to do, what I started out doing. Taking businessmen, on expensive remote hunting and fishing trips. He got to get a taste for it, going with me when he was a teenager. My boy doesn't know it yet, but... he's getting a little cargo plane, the kind that lands on water? For a birthday present."
"That is generous."
"Oh yeah. I'm figuring, that once he sees the plane? He'll be motivated enough, to get his commercial endorsement, to go along with his private pilot's license."
"Is landing on water... safe?"
"Honestly? Its easier than landing on the ground. Its just a regular small cargo plane, but... it has permanent landing gear, like a pontoon boat. And... there's no such thing, as a crash landing. Just head for any water."
"What's his... stall speed."
He smiled and nodded.
"See? You sound like a pro now. Having landing gear, that can't retract for faster flight? Limits your top speed. But. One of the worst things that can happen, is your landing gear won't come down. Its an easy thing to fly and land that plane. Slow, as far as planes go."
I thought about it.
"How expensive is it, to get a private pilot's license."
"Fuel prices, are outrageous. And renting a plane, for a beginner to learn on? That's expensive. Honestly, the best way to go, is to just let someone like me, pick you a plane out. Once you own the plane, you just have to pay the instructor for his time. You pass the classroom instruction, and you own a good beginner's plane, that instructors like to teach on? That's the way to go."
He paused.
"Did you know, you don't need a pilots license? To fly, perfectly legally."
"Really?"
"Look up... motorized parachutes. If you know what you're looking at, its only several grand. And, if you do have a problem? Its a parachute."
"Sounds safe."
"It is. But remember. Its not just you and your gear. You got the weight of the engine. The worst that could happen? Is you break a leg. I know, that sounds bad, but... compare it to crash landing a plane, in the forest."
Panic's face lit up, when he consulted his cell phone. He wanted to know how high up he could get.
"Depends on your weight, and your engine. But, ten thousand feet, is easy. You can get up high enough in those things, to actually ride in the jet stream. You can land? Just about anywhere."
I smiled. That, did sound like fun. He continued.
"Its a little more, to get the one that has the... little go kart frame? And its weight, so it limits your operating ceiling, but... you can upgrade the engine and gas tank."
"No license?"
"Nope. If you think you know what you're doing? Its covered under the ultralight exception. Anything that can fly, that you can buy or build from a kit? Its on you. And, if you're interested..."
"Maybe."
"There are small planes? That slide under the ultralight designation. Its all on you. Maintenance? None required. No inspections. If you think you can take off and land, and you trust your brother in law, being your mechanic... have fun."
"How much."
"Prices vary. Honestly? I'd get a used one. Learn to fly the thing, and if you have a flat level field? You can slowly learn to land, by coming in on different angles to the wind. And, once you get comfortable landing in different conditions... I'd practice shutting the engine off, and gliding more and more."
"Is it hard to land, with no engine?"
"You only get? One, chance. If you lose engine, you can't just goose the throttle and go back up and come in again. Once you get comfortable glide landing, you're home free. You get good, with your little ultralight plane? One with a real cockpit and everything. You can fly nearly any regular plane. Pilots love to fly with other pilots. Man, if you buy the fuel? Practically anyone will let you try the controls out, up in the air."
Panic was in his zone now. Calculating.
"What's the best plane, if you want to step up and get past the ultralight class."
"Depends. You wanna go fast, and have high maneuverability? Or, just something that practically flies itself."
He looked at me.
"I'm thinking... the kind that flies itself."
"Little Cessna planes? Are popular for a reason. Here's what makes a plane easy. You want a big wing, and a small body. The body? Hanging off of it. Think about a boat. If you hang a weight, under the floating thing? Its very stable. I'd go with permanent landing gear. So there's no question you can land. And honestly, the pontoons, for taking off and landing on water? Is the shit. It limits your flight speed, too. But, nothing is easier. And? No airport. Anywhere a boat floats, you can land and take off."
"Sounds like fun."
"Show me one human being, that never had that dream. We all have them. You're running? And you get up in the air. Its natural. Cavemen, watched birds fly, and dreamed about doing it. Can you work on a two stroke motorcycle?"
Panic nodded.
"Yeah."
"Nothing stopping you, from getting a go kart with a parachute, or a go kart glider. Then? Again, nothing stopping you from getting a tiny plane, ultralight class. After you get your license, because you have a lot of experience? Just get a little cargo plane. With pontoons."
"How much would... all that cost. Up front."
"A hundred grand, you could by all new. I'm talking the go kart parachute, the go kart glider, the ultralight real plane, everything. You wanna know a secret?"
"What."
"If you have enough flat, level ground. Who can stop you, if you own a plane and you think you can fly it. You basically, own your own airport. If you don't broadcast a transponder signal, who would stop you. You, can go out tomorrow, and buy any plane you can afford. If you don't have to use a small airport? The local police, have no jurisdiction, over flying. Once you're up in the air? Not like some cop can come up behind you, and pull you over. As long as you don't have to land at an airport, to refuel? Where's the law enforcement coming from."
Panic's eyes lit up.
"You're telling me, people do this."
The pilot nodded.
"Definitely. Remember those old, crop duster planes? The old fashioned kind."
"Yeah. Barnstormers."
"There you go. If you have big and flat enough of a farm? It saves you money, to get an old fabric plane flying. Its quicker and cheaper, than all the expensive wheel machines, everyone uses. You can rent a crop duster, but... its cheaper to just buy the plane, and figure out how to fly it yourself. You could even make a living, dusting crops for farmers. Cash, under the table."
I could see the grin, and the cogs turning behind his face. He asked.
"Is this something you can just order on the internet?"
The pilot laughed.
"Definitely."
He had the copilot, show him a few websites. The copilot took over.
"This one, here? This guy, popularized motorized parachutes and motorized hang gliders. Just watch all his videos. Then? Click on the link, to his own internet store. Guy's an expert. He buys and sells and has upgrade kits. I mean, once you own a motorized parachute? You just go out with guys that have them. Do what they do, fly with them. Wanna hear a funny, but true, story?"
"Sure."
"Some guy, had money. He got a DUI. Lost his driver's license. He figured out. It was cheaper, for the two years he wouldn't have a license? And had to get back and forth to work every day. Why pay 50 bucks a day, for someone to drive you back and forth to work, 5, 6 days a week. It was cheaper, to just buy a brand new motorized parachute."
"But, he lost his license."
The pilot laughed.
"He lost his c-a-r, driver's license. There's no license, and no certifications? On motorized parachutes. The small town local police? Were highly pissed off. This guy, is flying back and forth to work every day. Having fun, doing it. He's landing in gas stations, and buying gas and food."
Panic started laughing.
"I bet the police were pissed off. What did the cops do about it."
"That's the best part. The police warned him, they were going to arrest him. He laughed at them, on video, on his front porch. Its not illegal to buy it. There's no license, and no certification. And the police? Have no jurisdiction. The Federal Aviation Administration? Has sole enforcement power, on anything that flies. He laughed at them, on camera? Gave them the middle finger, and threw them off his property. Told them, they need a warrant? But good luck. No judge, no magistrate? Has any jurisdiction... over flying machines and flying them. Guy's on camera, drinking a beer on his own porch, laughing at them."
"That is funny."
"Oh. It gets better."
"How."
"Guy starts having fun with it. He starts going to the distributor? Buys a case of beer whenever he wants. Flying it home."
"Good for him."
"The police? Got pissed. They actually raided his house. Dragged him, his wife, and two kids out in the rain one night? At gun point. Handcuffed them, in the rain, the whole nine yards. They confiscated, his motorized parachute."
"Poor bastard."
"Nope. Rich bastard. He had those, internet doorbell cameras all around? The police are doing this, on video. Laughing. Making fun of him, pointing guns at his wife and kids. He sued the ever loving shit out of them."
"How did that go, I wonder."
"Local magistrate? Got in trouble, for okaying it. He had no jurisdiction. Guy represented himself, at the magistrate. He paid, to have it legally video recorded. He then went to county court. Again? Representing himself. Didn't cost him anything, but a couple bucks to file. He actually threatened the county judge? That he had no jurisdiction. And if he didn't get a written apology and his equipment back? He was going to file a huge lawsuit. On the police, the magistrate, and the county court."
"He won in county."
"No. County judge? Sent it to state court. The guy already had a lawyer lined up. He took out a loan? To live on for two years, and pay for the lawyers. The state court? Sent it back to the same county judge. They recommended, that the police and the magistrate and the judge, better get lawyers. They were going to need them."
"Christ almighty. How did it end up."
"Guy lived on his big loan, for two years. In the end? The magistrate got disciplined, and lost his bench. The county judge? Got disciplined. And the police. Well, their insurance company? Had to pay out several million dollars. No warrant. No jurisdiction. No crimes being committed. They trespassed, they risked the lives of him and his family. They stole his private property. The police were lucky, to stay out of jail themselves."
Vladimir loved this story. Go figure.
"Wonder what the guy's up to now."
"The happy ending. The guy paid his loan off. He never has to work again. He lived on a big enough property? It was zoned agricultural. Which means, among other things. You're allowed to run a business, with no zoning. He has a business? Flying people, and giving lessons."
"I'm sure the police were thrilled."
"I'm sure they were. But? They learned their lesson. If they so much as step a foot or drive onto his property, without proof of a crime being committed? They get arrested or sued, more likely... both. And, the guy has a new hobby. He puts videos up, doing it."
"I'm afraid to ask."
"He likes to fly over the local police station? And drops empty beer cans, in the parking lot."
Panic laughed, and so did Vladimir. Hell, me too.
"Let me guess. The police were dumb enough to arrest him again?"
"They tried to get him for trespassing, and littering. They can only get littering. Remember, the FAA, owns all the airspace. So, once or twice a year. He drops empty beer cans in the police parking lot, and pays his littering fine."
"Beautiful."
I watched Panic's gears turning, more.
"I live on agricultural. Right next to the biggest state game lands, in my state. I'm imagining... flying out, with a motorized parachute? To get to places that are inaccessible, even with the horses and pack horses."
The pilot nodded.
"If you have enough fuel, and an open space to land? All it takes."
I'm now pretty sure, what I'm getting for my birthday present this year.
We were about an hour out of Bermuda.
