Boys Suck!

Here's another reason why you boys suck and why I'm stuck trying to figure all this out on my own...

The last time I flew into a nearby airport, I saw a wicked cool Maule parked by one of the hangars. It was pretty much exactly what I wanted and I was drooling over it (well, I won't say drooling but I also won't say what I was as that would be inappropriate). It had tundra tires, was a silver and green color, and was basically bad-assed. Honestly, I'd never seen them up close like that, only pictures, and I loved it! So, I made a point of remembering the call sign so I could track down the owner of the plane.

No, I didn't want to stalk the owner of the Maule, murder him in his sleep and then steal his plane. I just thought maybe I could find out who he was and potentially convince him to take me for a flight (really, if you had a plane like that wouldn't you want to show it off to admiring fans?). But when I ran this idea by someone else, just to see if perhaps it might come across a little insane to track down a stranger and ask for a ride in his plane, his response was: you can't, you're a girl.

That response is not why you boys suck, the fact that he was right is why you suck! If I was a guy, it wouldn't be too big of a deal to walk up to the guy that owns the plane, befriend him, and get a ride in the Maule. My understanding is that's how things have always been done and in the past, many pilots actually learned to fly that way by simply hanging around airports and learning as much as they could from whoever was around. The fact that I'm a girl changes things. Now that guy behind the controls of the Maule is thinking in his head that I'm potentially trying to pick him up, adding an underlying tension to the whole thing. Where in reality, I'm only in love with his plane, he's wondering what his chances of getting into my pants are (this has actually happened before and it really is uncomfortable, and now where I could have had someone else to fly with, he's now awkward and uncomfortable around me).

Basically, I'm blaming you guys for my inability to fly in as many planes as possible with as many pilots as I can. If any contact you had with a woman didn't have to do with their sexual potential, I'd be much happier. Then, when I try to join your conversation I'd be viewed just like everyone else and nothing would have to be awkward. Or if I climbed into the plane beside you, there would be no tension while groping for seatbelts or headsets. I could simply walk up to you, tell you I liked your plane, then go for a ride without any attachments or expectations. Would it make things better for you guys if I simply ungendered myself? (Yes, that is a word, and no, I doubt you'll find it in the dictionary). Basically, I'll start dressing in unisex clothes, give myself a buzz cut, and wear masculine hats so the only question running through your mind when I ask for a flight is if I'm a woman who likes women or a man with delicate features. At least if you're thinking we're both after the same thing, the question whether or not you'll be joining the mile-high club would never enter your head and I never have to feel awkward because of it.

No Girls Allowed!

At some point or another growing up as kids, some boy would have hung up some sign somewhere with the warning, "No Girls Allowed!" Now, not every boy might have written such a sign and posted it, but most boys would have been involved with this in some way or another. Or there would have been some kind of secret club that girls were not privy to, or some kind of secret handshake. Not that girls didn't do it too, but usually they wanted boys attention so they usually just did it in some form of retaliation at being left out. The problem is, as much as you'd think we've grown out of such childplay, I think it's worse now as adults. And I think it all comes down to the fact that boys, and men, are scared of girls, or think we're some weird kind of species that is different from them in some way or another.

Perhaps not all men are scared of girls, or you'd like to argue against this, but I've seen it with my own eyes on several occasions. I've attempted to join a conversation of men to find everyone standing in silence the moment they realize I'm in earshot. Or entered a room full of men only to watch them scatter, to which I am left wondering exactly what it is I've done wrong. And really, I wouldn't care that much, if you guys find my presence discomfitting, fine, then I can leave. The problem is, that tends to leave me quite alone when pursuing a hobby rather lacking in feminine company. So while you guys are standing around trading tricks of the trade, or joining each other on flights to this or that fishing hole, I'm left by myself, wondering where the hell to go.

But I've decided that being left on my own maybe isn't so bad. At least this way, when I push myself a little, the accomplishment is all mine. It's just a good thing I like to read, so that where I may have been able to jump in with someone else and learn a few tricks of the trade, instead I'll just have to find the right book and learn from someone else's experiences. Besides, I've usually been the type not to let anything stop me from doing what I wanted to do, so why am I letting the fact that I have no one to help me stop me from trying new things flying. Perhaps because there's always the risk of death if I do something wrong or make a big mistake. On the other hand, if I don't do it myself, I'll never learn how. And really, contrary to what most people say, I'm pretty sure the chances of me dying are pretty slim. Major injuries? Perhaps. But you can always recover from an injury.

So, I've come to the realization that I'm on my own with this whole flying thing and I guess I have to stop making excuses and waiting around for someone else to show me what to do. I'm just going to have to go do it myself, learning as I go, and hope that my mistakes remain limited to improper lingo or forgetting batteries in my GPS and not landing in a field that had just been seeded by gun-wielding drug lords or mistaking a swamp for a runway. And I guess, if it comes down to it, my super-awesome instructor is only just a phone call away just waiting to share his knowledge and prowess with me... 

In the time since I made a complete fool of myself to the control tower (see "What the Hell is Beta?" post) I've come to the conclusion that I'm in desperate need of more flight training. Or review. Or both. Either way, my aviation knowledge is definitely lacking and in need of upgrading. And since there does not seem to be any chance of trading in the Fargo any time soon, I may as well make use of her while she's around. The problem is, additional flight training means spending time in a little cockpit with an instructor I can't stand.

I will be the first to admit it, pilots seem to think a little more highly of themselves than most other hobbiests. And really, why not? Can you honestly say you've not watched a youtube video of someone flying their RC plane and thought to yourself, "go fly a real plane and stop playing with toys?" And then after that or some similar thought, did not a little self-satisfied smile creep across your face because you, at least, could fly a real plane and that person is left to remote flying pretend ones? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say I'm any better than anyone else, I'm just saying, there's something about being able to lift yourself off the ground and fly through the air that makes you feel part of some elite group that is able to do the impossible. When you leave the safety of the runway and see your passenger's excited and somewhat nervous face, you feel pretty cool. Even without a passenger, you still feel pretty cool. Not many people can look into the air and say, "It's a good day for a flight. I think I'll go." You worked hard to be able to say that, and now you're part of only a handful of people who can. So, being a pilot is a bit of an earned sense of entitlement. The problem is, some people take it too far. People like my flight instructor.

On a side note, I just to quickly explain myself as I'm sure that last paragraph made me seem like a haughty, arrogant, pilot (or, if you'd like, simply read the last post I just made, the one where I was too dumb to tie a rope, that will prove I don't think even a little too highly of myself, I'm apparently not smart enough). Fist of all, I fly the Fargo. That along is enough to keep me humble. And really, I don't fly it all that well either, so that also brings my arrogance down a few notches. Until I'm flying loops in a plane that would make Hannes Arc jealous, I'm going to stay humble. Secondly, I don't fly so I can impress people, I fly because I absolutely, totally love it. I get grumpy when I can't fly, and often, in those grumpy periods or when I'm having difficulties as always seems to be the case, I wish I'd never taken up flying in the first place. What I'm getting at is, I'm not a pilot to show off, I'm a pilot because that's what enables me to fly. But I have a feeling my instructor is a pilot for the sole purpose of impressing others.

It's mean, I know, but I'm pretty sure my flight instructor was not well-liked as a child. He gives off this, repeatedly-shoved-into-lockers-and-had-lunch-money-stolen-every-day-at-school kind of vibe. And I understand, school is hell for most people. The thing is, I don't think he's really moved on. I think he's still trying to prove that he's cool by reciting his flight hours to anyone that will listen. And yes, he has quite a few. Good for him. I have about 1% of his flight time. But I really don't think that makes him a better person. I think that makes him more exerienced, which would probably be helpful to someone like me, but he doesn't share this exerience well. As opposed to trying to help you improve, he uses your lack of experience to hold you back while opening up more opportunities to show off all his knowledge. It is precisely this attitude that is making it hard for me to get more flight training.

Find another instructor, you say? I would. But there aren't any around. The other school refuses to teach in my own plane and I'm not about to pay 150 bucks an hour to rent another useless lame plane when I have my own perfectly lame one racking up hangar rent. So, my option is to teach myself and review the material from my Private Licence, or swallow any ego I might have and climb in next to this instructor and try to weed out any useful tidbits of knowledge I can find amongst his bragging. Well, when I put it that way, the decision becomes quite obvious...I must find a third option. There's got to be one out there.

The Gods Are Against Me!

Last I checked, I was not illegitimately fathered by Zeus; nor had I engaged in any illicit behavior with Zeus. The problem is, he's a very tricky fellow, and often when he wants something, he gets it. He's come to women in the form of showers of gold, various animals, and in impersonations of other people. So really, who's to know if he hadn't jumped into bed with my mother and fathered me, or, jumped into bed with me in disguise so I don't know the difference? What does this have to do with anything you ask? Well, the other day, when I was fighting through the snow and mud (yes, you heard right, snow, and mud, and puddles actually) to get the Fargo back into it's place in the hangar, I realized that someone is against me, and that someone had to be Hera, Zeus' wife. Why would Hera be against me? Well, that's what the whole beginning of this paragraph. I must have been either a bastard child of Zeus' or some form of adulterous conquest, because those were always the causes of Hera's anger. And she always found out, she is a godess herself afterall. And when she did find out, she always retaliated. Never really against Zeus as much as at the objects of his conquests. Hence, myself  being one.

I know, I make no sense. Let me explain a little better; consider Heracles (the Romans changed his name to Hercules, but he was originally Heracles). He was the child of one of Zeus' illicit affairs and Hera made him go crazy and kill his wife and kids, to which he had to atone with the 12 labours, but that's not a pleasant thought so that's often cut out of the stories. She also tested many of the heros to get back at them for being children of her husband. She also tried to kill the women he slept with, whether they wanted to sleep with him or not. My point is, I'm pretty sure she's testing me. Not in the same sense as Heracles or Perseus, I'm not on some quest to kill three-headed lizards or man-eating lions, but every time I try to fly, something makes my life utter misery. So instead of blaming it on my wimpy, feminine strength or lack of mechanical ability, I'm blaming it on the fact that some jealous greek goddess is out to get me. It's just more interesting that way.

So, what did Hera do to me this time? Well, not that much, just sent enough obstacles to make myself question, once again, why I put myself through all off this for a simple little gander around the area. There was a compacted, icy, snow ridge blocking only the part of the hangar containing my plane. And all around it was either cold, thick mud or icy cold puddles in the grass. I had to run through the mud to find a shovel to get it out only to  be ankle deep in near-frozen water. But at least, at that point, I had my friend to help me. The problem was what happened when I returned. It was cold, we were wet, and I felt bad making my friend wait for me in the muddy sludge that was supposed to be a hangar. All I had left to do was winch it in anyway, so I told her I was fine so she could return to the cozy warmth of her home.

The rope on the winch broke. Snapped right in half when I was trying to pull in the Fargo by its tail. So, I had to make an attempt to push it in, as it was still half-out of the hangar. I was slipping and sliding in the mud, getting wetter and colder by the minute, and the Fargo wouldn't budge. I tried pushing it, pulling it, coaxing it, talking to it. Nothing worked. The Fargo was hell-bent on remaining where it was. I'm pretty sure had I looked, I would have seen Hera leaning against the back of the hangar, somehow immaculately clean in her white robes, laughing at me and saying, "And you want to fly into the bush? Well, you can't even park it in a hangar, nevermind on a mountain top. I guess you never should have slept with my husband."

Honestly, when you have a goddess against you, is there much point continuing the struggle? I mean, she had the force of Olympus on her side. And I was a wet, cold, weak little human with no sign of divine ancestry that I know of. So I went home. Later I realized that perhaps it wasn't Hera or any other greek god/dess testing me, but simple common sense. It shouldn't have required Athena's wisdom to realize I simply could have tied a knot in the rope. I guess next time I curse the gods for making my life miserable, I should really just curse my parents for not giving me the sense required to tie my own shoes!

What the Hell is Beta?

For the past 6 months or so I have remained in my own little air zone of comfort; pretty much within 25 nm of the Fargo's parking spot. It's cozy and not the least bit intimidating. I know the people around me. I'm pretty sure the controllers know me and I've made an ass of myself on the radio enough times with them that I just don't care anymore. However, I've been thinking it's time to leave my little 25 nm circle. And so, I did leave it, just the other day, which made me realize I've got a lot of learning/review to do!

It wasn't that I was going very far. Just to the next airport over. But this airport is a little bigger...as in, it's got a tower with a controller inside (not like mine, which has a tower, but it's empty inside. Which is nice. Knowing they can't see you and your ugly landings is rather comforting) and it's got 4 runways instead of two and taxiways. Two taxiways to be more precise, which is what led to my final flub, but I'll get to that later.

So, I decided I should just fly over to that other airport. Enough with flying around, I needed a destination. I didn't really plan anything, there was someone on the other side of the destination expecting me so I didn't need to file a flight plan, and I've driven that way so many times I knew where I was going. If anything, I thought, I'd have my GPS to help me along. Or so I thought.

The batteries died on my GPS as soon as I called airborne. Good thing I had my map. At least I could situate myself and the airport into my line of flight. The problem is, my judge of distance kind of sucks and that runway creeps up a lot faster than you'd think. No later had I called into the tower than I found myself on Left Base ready to turn final. So I panicked, called in final, and then realized I was way, way further than I thought. Either way, I made it, but the controller I'm pretty sure was starting to wonder about me. Since this was after he asked me a questiond previously and I couldn't remember how to say yes and I'd forgotten which was the preferred runway he'd just told me a moment earlier.

If he thought I had no idea what I was doing when I was coming in to land, I confirmed his wonderings once I called down and then had to ask where to go. But calling where to go wasn't probably too big of a deal, the thing was, I had to call where to go, then how to get there. And how did I ask to get there? I asked if I should take taxiway Beta. Yes. Beta.

I parked. Picked up my passenger. Then went to leave, once again asking if the best way to get where I was going was taxiway Beta. He said yes. So, I started to go, then called in that I was entering taxiway Beta and it hit me. Bravo! Taxiway Bravo! What an idiot! There is no Beta in the phonetic alphabet. At least not in the one I learned. Where did that even come from? And I knew I was wrong when I called it, in my head I had just convinced myself that they called taxiways different than anything else. As in, Alpha was the Greek number one so Beta was the Greek number two. I was making things up in my head just to convince myself I knew what I was doing, which obviously, I didn't.

Regardless, I made it out of there. I did call in Bravo once before leaving, just so that the controller knew I wasn't a complete idiot, but I doubt that convinced him. I think from now on, at least until I do some much needed review, I'm going to stay in my little circle of comfort. At least the people in that circle expect me to be completely scatterbrained, but I don't need to let others know that too.