A departure from economics!

I have hit a man only once in my adult life. Only once, but this was a full-out, closed-fist, knock-you-off-your-feet slug that dared him to come back for more. And he didn’t. One slug did it! How empowering!

Bob (name changed) took me and George (my then-fiancé and now ex-husband) for a ride in a four-seat plane above the skyline in downtown Dallas, Texas late one summer night when the skies were dark and the stars were bright.

Bob was a friend of Allen, who was a very good friend of mine and an accomplished private pilot who had introduced me to the joys of flying. Allen trusted Bob and I trusted Allen, so I was not unusually concerned about Bob’s ability to get us back down safely. But I hadn’t factored in Bob’s judgment, or lack thereof.

I think, in hindsight, that Bob had hoped I would show up for the ride alone despite the  fact that I had arranged it as a surprise for George. The plan was for George to sit up front and play co-pilot.  Upon arrival at the hanger, however, Bob promptly stuck George in the back seat of the plane and then turned his full attention to me.  I’m usually fairly dense to these things, but it was apparent even to me that Bob considered this to be a  “date.”  He was charming, animated and very friendly, while virtually ignoring George’s very existence.  We reviewed the safety measures, checked out the plane, and away we went.

Bob was showing me a series of maneuvers, swooping and banking and it was all lovely and exciting until…..a sudden plunge…..and everything instantly blacked out.  It was very disorienting — even though my eyes were  wide open and I was totally conscious, I could not see a thing.

The sirens started blaring; a recorded voice shouted “Stall! Stall! Stall!”  I called to George but he didn’t answer. Either he was unconscious or couldn’t hear me over the noise, but I wasn’t sure which.  I reached out to Bob, but he was unresponsive and felt limp.  Now I was really worried.  Momentarily terrified, actually, with that cold feeling of raw fear in the pit of my stomach.  I thought to myself, “If I am blacked out and cannot see, then HE, the, um, PILOT,  might be blacked out as well!”

I had what seemed like a very long time to ponder what I could do to survive this emergency, and keep George alive, who was there because of me!  I tried to feel my way along the control panel to find the radio to call out “May Day,” but that wasn’t going too well. Somehow — I don’t know how because I still could not see! — Bob got us out of the descent, pulling the nose up and righting the plane.   The sirens and warnings stopped.  After a few more moments, my vision came back, and my stomach returned to its rightful place.  We landed in one piece.

But when ole’ Bob got out of the pilot’s seat and walked around the plane to help me exit, I had a little surprise for him. Actually, it was a surprise for me, too, because I didn’t plan it and didn’t “see” or “feel” it coming. The next thing I knew I had drawn my right arm back, made a fist, and threw it into his left shoulder with everything I had. POW!

He stumbled, grabbed his arm, and said “Ow! What did you do THAT for?”  Well, I didn’t think I had to explain how I thought he had just put my life and that of a friend in danger just to show off.  I didn’t think he would see it the way I did, that he had flown that plane beyond his ability to control it. And even if he was in control the entire time, which I doubted, he scared the bajeebees out of me which was reason enough for me to sock him one!

I don’t recommend physical violence, even if the assailant is half the size of the perpetrator, but I have to tell you that to my knowledge, Bob never took another unsuspecting victim up for a little spin around the tops of buildings in downtown Dallas.   And I know that if I ever really need to wind it up and let her go, I do have it in me.

By Sherry Jarrell

• Aircraft
• Flying
• Musings