Point of View

The Flight

I have always been fascinated with flight. The freedom of soaring through the air and having a bird’s eye view of the world has always taken my breath away. I have been working towards getting my pilots license for some time now; as one of the hundred things I do before I die. The ultimate dream would be to fly a charter plane some where in Italy and live a simple, quiet life in my grandfather’s hometown.
My first flight was sometime ago as a young boy. My father’s boss, Mr. Brooks was a pilot and offered to take me flying one summer afternoon in his Cessna 172. I must have been ten at the time and remember being so excited. I had never flown before that memorable day. We met at a small airfield in Crestwood, Ill. which doesn’t even exist anymore and headed for the hangar to perform a pre-flight inspection. He showed me all the instruments and switches and explained what each one controlled and how everything worked. I recall thinking how small the plane was up close and how frail it seemed as I caressed my small hand across its surface. I was too anxious to remember everything Mr. Brooks was telling me and just wanted to get into the sky. He buckled me into the co-pilot’s seat, put on my headset and started making adjustments here and there; flipping switches on and off and pushed in and out on the control stick. As he did this I watched intently, imagining having to “take over” in case of an emergency, I would want to be prepared. I had a very active imagination back then. We were finally ready and with the turn of a key the propeller started rotating in a jerky fashion causing the small plane to rock in place. Mr. Brooks pulled out on a knob and pushed a few more buttons and the engine came to life. He let the engine warm and then we performed another check before being cleared to taxi. We called the small control tower and requested clearance for take off. They spoke in another language about runway numbers and departure altitude and compass degrees. I was completely confused but it didn’t matter, I was going to fly.
Finally at the ready we sat on the runways edge, the engine humming, flaps set and brakes on. Mr. Brooks gave me a thumbs-up and told me to hold tight as he pushed in on the throttle controls. The engine roared as the propeller disappeared into a soft blur. The small Cessna fought the brakes as the RPM gauge continued to climb and then with a throw of a lever the brakes were set free and the small plane launched down the runway. I watched out the tiny window as the hash lines on the runway passed quicker and quicker until they were one continuous line. Mr. Brooks eased back on the stick and the small plane started its climb into the heavens. I watched the ground slowly fall away, the cars getting smaller as we continued our climb. We followed a course along the Calumet Sag channel flying over a barge pushing four containers full of coal. The water shimmered in the sunlight and we could see small rainbows in the breaking water’s mist. Once clear of town Mr. Brooks told me to take over and crossed his arms waiting for me to react. I put my shaking hands on the controls as he guided me, instructing me to be gentle and feel the plane. I pulled back slightly on the stick and then pushed forward making the plane climb or dive, my stomach desperately trying to keep up with the sudden loss of gravity. I was having the time of my life as we turned to head back to the airport. The runway appeared in the distance, the flashing red and white lights guiding us along our course looked the size of a postage stamp. We reduced power and set the flaps, the plane reacting in due fashion slowing as it reacted to the outside air. The control tower soon radioed our clearance as we passed over the main road and the traveling cars, the ground coming up faster and faster, and with a small squawk of the tires we were back on the ground, slowing to a near stop at the end of the runway.
I wouldn’t fly again until I was traveling with the Marine Corps, but I never lost the taste of my first flight and would one day return to pilot my very own plane.