Airspace

“No, I don’t have my passport with me. I am an American citizen. Google my name or something. Florida driver’s license. Private pilot license. Property records. I don’t know, you’re the authority. I can’t explain it. Suddenly I just knew I could fly, and when I tried, I could. I mean I did. I didn’t really think it would work, but it worked. Something like that happens you don’t go back inside for your purse and pack a lunch."

There weren’t any smiles. There were only the staring, condemning, damning faces looking at me. No offers of a chair, no coffee, no drink of water. The white-coated nurse who had drawn the blood samples stood waiting by the door, avoiding eye contact.

The sensations were still strong. Take-off had been easy. I held my arms out like wings, and started running down the middle of the deserted road. A ridiculous feeling, and I thought too slow a speed for roll-out, but I lifted off as I lowered my head and my body shakily aligned. Flying, like my first solo, had always thrilled me. It had never slackened, the wonder of leaving the ground. But my body had never been the plane. I wondered what stall speed was as I maintained a slight head up pitch and gradually gained altitude to about 300 feet.

Certainty came back with the old flight training drills. Gingerly I banked to the left, full circle turn, and leveled off . Again, and now this time to the right. A bit of slippage, wasn't sure what to with my feet. It was tiring to point my toes, and my legs were heavy. I could feel the stall coming, no rudder, the vibration of the lift disappearing. I leaned down into it and speed returned. The altitude was going. The tree line was a wall. I banked sharply, recovered, and back to straight and level. Flight review.

I flew close to the edge of a low puff of summer cloud and felt the slight moisture cool on my skin. The land stretched away and the shoreline was beneath me. I flew along the line of calm blue and beach sand. The Inlet broke the line and I noticed the fishermen on the jetty looking up and pointing. Someone screamed, a faint but sharp trill in the swish of air, and some ran. I circled to see, but I was causing the increasing upoar.

I had landed like a wounded bird flopping into the water. No float plane rating for me. The Coast Guard pulled me from the water. The choppers, circled, the lights and sirens increased on the water and ashore. "Were you really flying?"

The lights are so bright. My head hurts, my shoulders have an ache like fire. They are talking again. Questions, demands, threats. Idly I notice the colorful rows of ribbons on the uniforms. Top dudes, I think.

How long had it been? Could I still fly? If I circled this room they would shoot me. Would sure be a short take-off. No windows. The power of flight and no freedom to use it. The freedom of flight and now no freedom. Probably dissect me as an alien life form. At the least unauthorized flight, airspace violation, no flight plan, aircraft not inspected - no aircraft. They were going to write a new book, and throw it at me.