First Impression FAIL January 29, 2010

What a morning…

My first flight as a student pilot is scheduled for 3:00 today in my planner. But at 7:20 this morning, my instructor called, asking where I was. What do you mean, I said? He replied that I was scheduled for a 7:00 am flight!!! I became a tornado moving through the room, picking up what I needed, throwing to the side what I didn’t. I wore PE gear and carried my slacks because I was parked ON HOSPITAL POINT (I had parked there to make it a SHORT walk from class this afternoon.)

So I ran a mile and a quarter to start the morning right.

I arrived at the airport exactly an hour late. I did everything to pre-flight the plane, but since I had been in a rush, I didn’t have warm clothing on. My fingers went completely numb–when I reached into my pocket for the sump cup, I couldn’t feel anything. I squeezed hard and pulled my hand out to see what I had grabbed–similarly to that impossible claw arcade game. The first grab was unsuccessful as I pulled out my ID card. Two tries later I had grasped the correct pocketed item.

Flying was really fun, but I must have seemed like a complete airhead. I had an episode of Plebe-itus; it is common during plebe summer. You ask a plebe to pass the milk, and if he is on top of his game enough to find it, he pours himself a glass thinking he’d completed your assignment. My instructor would tell me what to do, and I’d completely misunderstand. He did a great job being patient with a newbie who shows up late, shaking from the cold the entire time. I practiced turning and staying on course.

Landed, logged the time, and left. I had 40 minutes to travel back, park, get into uniform, and make it to class. I didn’t have in the GPS a route to the academy… so I drove towards home and tried to take a short cut–turned out to be the long cut. I drove around Farragut Seawall, praying for a spot. That was my break of the day. I pulled in and scraped my bumper all the way up the curb at 10:43 (my class on Fridays begins at 10:55.) I ran 3/4 of a mile to Bancroft Hall, sprinted upstairs (lungs collapsing, legs burning, snot flaring, chest heaving, tears streaming (no tears actually.)) I threw off my clothes and threw on a partial uniform, not buttoning my shirt because I would wear a jacket over it. SPRINTED through Bancroft (I had 4 minutes to make it to RICKOVER on the other side of campus!!!) I had no saliva left so I took a sip from a fountain, and I tried to spit some snot out, but it just trailed from my face as I ran, like a streamer of shame. Without an undershirt on, the metal backing of my ribbons and name tag scraped my chest each stride.

I made it into the classroom at 10:54 with 10 seconds to spare. No seats left. I found a chair in the back and sat there for the duration of the class, thinking “it can only get better.”

Tomorrow’s plan: Saturday morning training with the plebes in the snow across the river, then I fly at 1:00 (hopefully I’ll show up on time,) and my instructor says I’ll be taking off and landing.

Despite everything, it was completely worth it. I flew today.