The first time I flew into Meigs, I was a passenger in the back seat of a Cherokee 180 flying down from Racine, WI. I'm 6' tall, and -- after the 50-minute flight -- I had to be helped out of the back. (Pre-1973 Cherokees have NO leg room in the back, and both legs had fallen asleep!)
Nonetheless, it was a magical experience. After "flying" into Meigs on "Flight Simulator" since the very first Artisoft versions, it felt very familiar, and wonderful. We had a pop, hit the potty, paid the landing fee, and left. It was gorgeous.
The second time was as PIC, coming in from Iowa City, IA. Mary wasn't a pilot yet, and I was pretty wet-behind-the-ears, still, so flying into Chicago airspace was a "Big Deal". Add a friend who brought another friend to the mix, and you've got a fairly high-stress, high workload flight.
I put more planning into that flight than I do now to fly to Florida, and it all went perfectly. We had a wonderful time in Chicago, seeing the museums, etc. That airport was PERFECT for a day trip into downtown.
My last flight into Meigs was two days after the national airspace reopened after 9/11. We were so thankful to have our flying rights restored that we decided to do a special flight to exercise those rights -- and Meigs immediately came to mind.
The flight in was poignant, with all ATC personnel both tense and thankful to hear us "little guys" flying again. The arrival was terribly sad, however, as we weren't allowed to get out of the plane. Instead, we were met at our airplane by armed security guards who forced us to ride in their SUV to the terminal, even though it was just a few dozen yards away.
Mary and I were with our then-7-year-old daughter, and our 10-year-old son, and were clearly not members of the "German-American-Terrorist-Division" of Al Queda, but that didn't stop "Chicago's finest" from wanding my little girl. I'll never forget the confused, scared look in her eyes as the police roughly checked her for explosives and weapons...
Getting off the airport peninsula to get into downtown was very difficult. We finally got a cab through security to pick us up (they wouldn't let us walk), and it was (of course) driven by an Arab-looking guy who barely spoke any English. I truly thought we were going to be shot when the cabbie tried to drive AROUND the police check-point without stopping! I don't know if he figured that he'd just come through it going the other way, or what, but the Chicago police had their guns drawn and were screaming at him to stop, while my family cowered in the back seat.
We had a good time eating at Ed Debovic's, but it all felt weird and wrong. Gone were the welcoming smiles, replaced by paranoia and suspicion in those tense, post-9/11 days. We flew home with heavy hearts, and it wasn't long afterwards that King Daley bulldozed the runways. I've never willingly set foot in Chicago since, and have refused to attend every meeting, conference, or trade show that has been scheduled there since.
It's not much, but it's all we can do. I won't go back until Daley is either dead, out of office, or both.
