Yesterday was one of those rare summer days in the northeast, unlimited visibility, warm, no clouds. I had colleagues visiting from Boston with whom I had made plans to meet for dinner near my office in New York. They were staying in White Plains, right near where my Arrow is parked when I'm working here. I suggested I take them out in my plane for dinner.
I was going to do the Hudson River flyway, a spectacular trip below 1100 feet along New York and NJ skylines; it's always a crowd pleaser. I lined them up for the trip and got my briefing, only to find out that there was a home Yankees game (I'm not a fan) and the VFR flyway would be closed.
We headed north to Columbia County, 1B1, where I knew there'd be an open restaurant. Little did I know that one of the guys had dreamed about flying since he was a kid but had never been in the front seat of any airplane. He flew course and altitude like an ATP because he's logged more hours with MS Flight Stimulator than I have in Cherokees. They all loved following the busy ATC chatter from White Plains, New York Center, and Albany Approach. After dinner it was pitch black as we tried to find the gap in the fence to get back into the tiedown. They couldn't believe we could just be walking around an empty airport with nothing but stars above. Boy were they surprised when we got in the plane and I clicked on the airport lights.
The same guy flew back, and his face was cramping from grinning. As they drove me back to the subway he pumped me for details about becoming a pilot, and is committed to joinng our ranks of hopeless addicts. I feel a little like a pusher, offering "the first one's free," but I think we got another member of our cult.
I was going to do the Hudson River flyway, a spectacular trip below 1100 feet along New York and NJ skylines; it's always a crowd pleaser. I lined them up for the trip and got my briefing, only to find out that there was a home Yankees game (I'm not a fan) and the VFR flyway would be closed.
We headed north to Columbia County, 1B1, where I knew there'd be an open restaurant. Little did I know that one of the guys had dreamed about flying since he was a kid but had never been in the front seat of any airplane. He flew course and altitude like an ATP because he's logged more hours with MS Flight Stimulator than I have in Cherokees. They all loved following the busy ATC chatter from White Plains, New York Center, and Albany Approach. After dinner it was pitch black as we tried to find the gap in the fence to get back into the tiedown. They couldn't believe we could just be walking around an empty airport with nothing but stars above. Boy were they surprised when we got in the plane and I clicked on the airport lights.
The same guy flew back, and his face was cramping from grinning. As they drove me back to the subway he pumped me for details about becoming a pilot, and is committed to joinng our ranks of hopeless addicts. I feel a little like a pusher, offering "the first one's free," but I think we got another member of our cult.