Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":976,"date":"2017-11-16T18:14:28","date_gmt":"2017-11-17T00:14:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=976"},"modified":"2017-11-16T18:14:28","modified_gmt":"2017-11-17T00:14:28","slug":"texas-part-five","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=976","title":{"rendered":"Texas – Part Five"},"content":{"rendered":"

Texas \u2013 Part Five<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Fortunes, Misfortunes, and Strokes of Luck<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

In 1968 the nation was on fire.\u00a0 The military was in the death grip of a vicious and deadly war in Vietnam, while here at home countless violent protests and demonstrations were decimating college campuses and several large cities.\u00a0 Lyndon Baines Johnson, finally beaten down by the incessant drumbeat of rebellion to his policies and disloyalty in his own administration, announced that he would not seek, nor would he accept, his party\u2019s nomination for reelection.<\/p>\n

In late August, amidst a plethora of devastatingly destructive and violent anti-war and civil rights demonstrations in some large cities, the Democrat Party held their National Convention in Chicago.\u00a0 Mayor Richard Daly, determined that his city would not fall prey to the violence and destruction that had descended on other big cities like New York and Los Angeles, deployed 12,000 city police and 15,000 state and federal officers to maintain order on the streets in and around the convention center.<\/p>\n

Inevitably, within a few hours thousands of protestors marching in support of Senator Eugene McCarthy, a committed anti-war presidential candidate\u2014while at the same time demanding the complete withdrawal of U.S. troops from Vietnam\u2014clashed with a multitude of baton-swinging and teargas-lobbing law enforcement officers.\u00a0 Total chaos quickly ensued.\u00a0 In the melee, not only were the demonstrators severely beaten and gassed, but so were newsmen and medical personnel sent there to tend to the injured.<\/p>\n

Inside the hall it was not much better.\u00a0 Political supporters of Senator McCarthy lodged a challenge against the faction supporting the war.\u00a0 The loud and raucous debate between the two groups suddenly intensified and quickly spiraled out of control.\u00a0 Fistfights broke out and delegates and reporters were knocked to the convention floor.\u00a0 Mayor Daly, a staunch supporter of the war, stood and yelled obscenities in the direction of the dais and had to be physically restrained by his group of burly bodyguards.<\/p>\n

Eventually order was restored and the delegates committed to then Vice-President Hubert Humphrey\u2014whose platform was to maintain the status-quo\u2014won out.\u00a0 He went on to win the Democrat nomination for president and ran unsuccessfully against the Republican candidate, Richard Nixon.<\/p>\n

All of this turmoil, including the bloody war being waged overseas and claiming dozens of active duty personnel of all services on a daily basis, was completely lost on\u2026well, me.\u00a0 I don\u2019t recall ever worrying or losing a minute of sleep about suddenly receiving orders sending me to some exploding airbase in Vietnam, or being called up and shipped out to quell a riot in some flaming city like Philadelphia or Dallas.<\/p>\n

Thinking back on those days I recall that the three main areas of concern on my mind were, (1) taking and passing the Civil Service Air Traffic Controller Exam (which I was scheduled to take in July); (2) taking and passing my Single Engine Land Private Pilot Exam; and, (3) selling enough shoes to finance my flying activities.<\/p>\n

To me, the Vietnam War, to which I had lost some of my dearest and most beloved friends, was nothing more than annoying background noise in the daily hub-bub of my otherwise complicated life.\u00a0 During my duty days at Bergstrom, when not building or striking tents and radar equipment or policing up cigarette butts and chewing gum wrappers, all my crew could talk about was how so-and-so just got orders to go to Danang, or what they would do if one of them got called up to go to \u2018Nam.\u00a0 \u2018Man, I would just shit if I got those orders\u2026\u2019<\/em> seemed to be the most popular response among my crew\u2014immediately eliciting vacant-eyed head-nodding and a few random \u2018fucks\u2019 <\/em>here and there.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow \u2018bout you, Sarge?\u201d they would occasionally ask me.\u00a0 \u201cWhat the fuck would you do if you got orders to go to \u2018Nam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have time to go to \u2018Nam or anywhere else,\u201d I would casually respond.\u00a0 \u201cToo fucking busy working and flying.\u00a0 Besides, I get out in December.\u00a0 Last I heard they ain\u2019t sending short-timers over there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShit, sarge, you\u2019re one lucky bastard. \u00a0Plus, you ain\u2019t no lifer, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I put down my flight training manual, which I carried with me in spite of being ordered not to. \u201cWell, considering the Air Force has been poking me with the short end of the stick for almost eight years, I think the smartest thing I can do is to get out and seek my fortune elsewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck, you got it made, Sarge.\u00a0 In a few months, you gonna be flying some cool airliner and making all kinds of money while most of us are gonna be getting blown up in \u2018Nam.\u00a0 Fuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody here is going to \u2018Nam.\u00a0 By the time the Air Force figures out who we are and where we\u2019re at, we\u2019ll all be civilians.\u00a0 Take my word for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0I finally made that phone call to the Federal Aviation Administration at the Austin Airport in early July, and spoke to a nice lady who claimed that she didn\u2019t have the slightest idea how to go about getting hired to be an air traffic controller.\u00a0 She instead suggested that I call the Civil Service Commission and ask them.\u00a0 After asking for and getting the number, I hung up and did just that.<\/p>\n

When I made that next phone call I was told that it just so happened that the FAA had just opened up testing for several options within the air traffic control (ATC) field, and that they (the Civil Service Commission) were presently administering entrance exams for various ATC options.\u00a0 I was then asked if I was interested in taking the ATC exam.\u00a0 I immediately said yes.<\/p>\n

After giving my name, address, and social security number, I was told that within a few days I would be receiving a series of forms in the mail.\u00a0 Once they received the completed forms I would be notified of the next examination date.\u00a0 Before I terminated the call, I asked if there was something I should study to prepare myself for the exam.\u00a0 I was told that it would be better if I came to take the exam totally unprepared.<\/p>\n

The exam lasted eight hours: four hours in the morning, then thirty minutes for lunch, followed by another four-hour session in the afternoon.\u00a0 We were given no other breaks except individual bathroom breaks.\u00a0 There were about thirty people taking the test, and as was typical for the era we were all male.\u00a0 The test was divided into four parts\u2014three of which seemed to me to contain questions of a psychological nature.<\/p>\n

For example, one question in the first section asked which newspaper headline would interest me the most:\u00a0 one announcing a national rise in interest rates, or one stating that a mad, rapist killer was on the loose.\u00a0 I chose the gory headline, of course.\u00a0 All of the questions were in a hypothetical format, such as\u2014if this or that happened to you or a loved one what would your response\/action\/feelings be?<\/em><\/p>\n

Another section tested one\u2019s ability to predict logical number and\/or letter patterns\u2014such as: 1-2-3-4\/\/1-2-3-4-5\/\/1-2-3-4-5-(fill in the next logical number).\u00a0 Of course, the sequences were much more complex, consisting of series of numbers, letters, and shapes.\u00a0 We were also shown drawings of three dimensional shapes such as cubes, triangles, and circles, and were asked to pick the correct depiction of its two-dimensional shape.<\/p>\n

The third section consisted of simple time and distance problems.\u00a0 I assumed this section had more to do with air traffic control than any of the others.\u00a0 The last section was made up of several nonsensical narratives.\u00a0 Following those there were about twenty true-false, and multiple-choice questions, asking for the reader\u2019s interpretation of the foregoing narratives.\u00a0 Since I hadn\u2019t really understood what the narratives were talking about I was at a loss on how to answer the questions.\u00a0 Ultimately, I decided to answer each question with the first thing that popped into my head.<\/p>\n

By the time we were done with the exam and released around five in the evening I was mentally exhausted.\u00a0 My head was spinning and I actually thought about stopping somewhere and imbibing in a few adult beverages before heading home.\u00a0 But I had promised Mr. Sims that regardless of what time the exam was over, I would come in and work at the shoe store.<\/p>\n

The results of my ATC Exam came by mail about two weeks later from the Civil Service.\u00a0 I had scored a 95 percentile, plus five points added for being a veteran (since I was still in active service they took into consideration my first four-year enlistment) for a final score of 100 percentile.<\/p>\n

The accompanying letter advised that my name had been placed on the Air Traffic Control Register as a potential selectee for the Flight Service Station option.\u00a0 On my test day we had been briefed that the Air Traffic field consisted of three options:\u00a0 (1) Tower\/Approach, (2) Enroute Center, and (3) Flight Service Station.\u00a0 If our test scores were successful, our names would be placed on one of the registers representing each option.\u00a0 The higher the test score, the lower our names would go into the sequence\u2014and that was a good thing, as the FAA drew potential candidate names from the bottom of the list.<\/p>\n

Also, our names would not necessarily be placed onto the individual registers according to our scores, but according to the agency\u2019s current need.\u00a0 Thus, if the FAA needed more employees in the Enroute option rather than the Flight Service option, then the name and score would be entered into that option.\u00a0 So basically, it was a crap shoot.<\/p>\n

When I read that I\u2019d been placed on the Flight Service Station register (FSS) I was perfectly happy.\u00a0 That career field consisted of providing pilots with preflight weather briefings, airport information, and disseminating NOTAMs (Notice to Airmen), and advising of air traffic hazards along routes of flight.\u00a0 What they didn\u2019t do was actively control air traffic; that is, assign routes, altitudes and control flights via radar.\u00a0 And I was just fine with that.<\/p>\n

As a fledgling pilot, I had experienced more face time with Flight Service personnel at the various airports I\u2019d flown into than with the air traffic controllers in the towers.\u00a0 It was there that I filed my VFR flight plans and got my weather briefings, so I was thoroughly familiar with what the FSS did and not so sure what the tower controller did when they weren\u2019t barking at me on the radio.\u00a0 So in that regard I was comfortable that, if\/when my name came up and I was hired, I would be able to do the job.<\/p>\n

The letter also said that the starting salary grade of an FSS employee was as a GS-6 (Government Scale 6).\u00a0 Although I wasn\u2019t sure what that meant exactly, what I was sure about was that it had to mean that I\u2019d be earning more money than what I was earning in the Air Force.<\/p>\n

While the receipt of the letter from the Civil Service was a relief to me and Kaz, I knew that it was not a guarantee of future employment by the FAA.\u00a0 There were just too many variables.\u00a0 First, there had to be existing vacancies in the career field that I\u2019d been placed in; second, since names for vacancies were selected from the bottom up, and new names with higher scores were continually being added to the bottom of the list, there was always a chance that my name would never get low enough on the list to be picked.<\/p>\n

Knowing that the odds of my being selected anytime soon were long, I comforted myself with the knowledge that I still had about five months left in my current enlistment anyway.\u00a0 If somehow the FAA appointment didn\u2019t come through I would go on with my flight training\u2014with the hope that I could continue to fund it by working long hours at the shoe store.<\/p>\n

Over coffee one morning I happened to mention my taking the FAA exam to Sergeant Kent.\u00a0 At first, he seemed a bit shocked\u2014carefully putting his coffee mug down on the steel-topped table before coaxing a fresh Marlboro out of a half-empty pack with a few taps on the heel of his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cFAA ATC test, huh?\u201d he asked, striking a small wooden match and lighting the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke.\u00a0 \u201cAnd here I was thinking, (long drag)\u2026you were going to re-enlist so you could continue to take your flying lessons and maybe sew another stripe on your sleeve.\u00a0 You\u2019re due for a nice promotion to technical sergeant soon.\u201d\u00a0 He leaned back in his squeaky armless office chair and tilting his head back blew a billowing cloud of gray-white smoke up into the dead air of our tin-roofed building.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, no.\u00a0 I know we haven\u2019t talked about it too much, but after what the Air Force has done\u2014or not done\u2014for me, I don\u2019t see much of a future staying in.\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckled, tapping his cigarette\u2019s gray ash into the small silver ashtray already filled with this morning\u2019s butts.\u00a0 \u201cWell, to me it looks like the Air Force has done quite a bit for you already.\u00a0 I doubt the shoe store would let you take off every day to get the amount of flying time that you\u2019ve accumulate for the last few months\u2026and continues to do so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you\u2019re right.\u00a0 Let\u2019s just say a career in the Air Force just doesn\u2019t fit into my future plans.\u201d<\/p>\n

Since Sergeant Kent was what the grunts on my crew would describe as a \u201clifer\u201d, I decided that that was no way I could ever make him understand what I\u2019d gone through for the last eight years, or what I envisioned my future to be.\u00a0 I looked at my watch and decided that it was time for me to gather up my crew and take our first morning walk around the building in our never-ending hunt for stray gum wrappers and discarded cigarette butts.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The second letter from the Civil Service Commission arrived in late September.\u00a0 As I looked at the white envelope, my name and address peeking out from the clear cellophane window, I wondered if I could\u2019ve been selected for assignment so soon.\u00a0 If so, this was going to be a disaster.\u00a0 I was still in the service and not scheduled for discharge for another ninety days, and there was no way I could accept a position now.\u00a0 Maybe if they delayed my assignment for another three months, I thought hopefully, and even then, it would be a bit dicey\u2014depending, of course, on where the Flight Service Station for which I\u2019d been selected was located.\u00a0 Anywhere in Texas would probably work, but what if the assignment was out of state\u2014way out of state?\u00a0 The back of my quickly drying tongue began to sense the bitter taste of bile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u00a0 Are you going to open it to see what it says?\u201d Kaz\u2019s inpatient voice startled me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u00a0 Oh\u2026sure\u2026yeah.\u00a0 Let me see what it says.\u201d\u00a0 I hastily tore open the end of the envelope and carefully pulled out the folded stationary.<\/p>\n

As I read the first few lines my heart sunk.\u00a0 The news was worse than I\u2019d imagined.\u00a0 In part, it read:<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026and as a result of our recent reassessment and revision of the current Federal Aviation Administration\u2019s Air Traffic Controllers\u2019 Placement Examination, we have readjusted your final score of 95% (which includes an award of 5 points for your military service), to 105%, again including the 5 point military veteran bonus.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause of your readjusted score, your name has been removed<\/u> from the Flight Service Station Specialist Option register (FSSS)<\/strong>, and placed on the Air Traffic Control Specialist Option (ATCS)<\/strong> register.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease note that the Agency will select candidates for ATCS positions based on the numerical score achieved on their exams.\u00a0 Thus, candidates with higher ranking scores will be eligible to be selected before those with lower scores.\u00a0 To improve your chances of being selected earlier you may reconsider retaking the exam.<\/p>\n

\u201cCongratulations, and we wish you success in your future endeavors.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kaz, taking note of my slumping shoulders and disappointed demeanor asked, \u201cWhat does it say?\u00a0 Is it bad news?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d I said simply.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name was removed from the Flight Service Station option register.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u00a0 Why would they do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause of my score on the test.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas it too low?\u00a0 I thought you said it was a ninety-five percent plus the 5 points for your veteran\u2019s service!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it was.\u00a0 But now it\u2019s been readjusted to a one-hundred and five percent.\u201d<\/p>\n

She cocked her head and looked at me quizzically.\u00a0 \u201cOK, I don\u2019t understand.\u00a0 Why they take you off the list if your score went up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, this is what happened.\u00a0 Apparently because the test was so hard they were having a lot of people fail.\u00a0 Many of those who failed filed a lawsuit saying the test was unfair and too difficult to comprehend, so the Civil Service Commission revised the test to make it easier.\u00a0 So to make things fair those of us who took the original test, we had our scores reevaluated and re-scored based on the easier test.\u00a0 So, my score went up\u2014and when it did the score was too high for the Flight Service Station Option.\u00a0 Now they\u2019ve moved my name to the Air Traffic Control Option.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u00a0 Is that bad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I had my heart set on being a Flight Service Station specialist because I feel that I\u2019m really suited to that job.\u00a0 I don\u2019t want to be an air traffic controller because I just think that\u2019s too technical of a job.\u00a0 Besides, I don\u2019t really know what they do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut don\u2019t you talk to them when you fly from the airport?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but besides giving me permission to take off and land I don\u2019t know what else they do.\u00a0 I know the job the flight service guys do because I see them when I file my flight plans and talk to them when I get my preflight weather briefings.\u00a0 I know I can do that job.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know about the controllers though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, now what are you going to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u00a0 I guess I could call the Civil Service Commission and ask that my name be moved back because I don\u2019t want to be a controller.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s a good idea.\u00a0 Want me to go get the phone book?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I know the number.\u00a0 I think I\u2019m going to call them now.\u201d\u00a0 And I reached for the phone.<\/p>\n

After speaking to several different people, I was finally transferred to a lady who was in charge of testing.\u00a0 After listening to my plea, she curtly informed me that there was absolutely nothing that could be done for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf, and when, you get notice from the FAA that you\u2019ve been selected as an ATCS candidate\u201d, she said in a light Texas drawl, \u201cyou can then refuse the appointment.\u00a0 But until then honey, there is nothing that I, or anyone else, can do.\u00a0 Besides,\u201d she added, \u201cyou do know that controllers make more money than FSS specialists, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, with all due respect,\u201d I said, \u201cI don\u2019t really care about the money.\u00a0 I just want to be successful in the FAA\u2014and I just don\u2019t think I\u2019m cut out to be a controller.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never know, darlin\u2019, you just might end up surprising yourself.\u00a0 You really scored high on the test sections that relate to air traffic control, so my suggestion would be to accept the appointment when you get called and go from there.\u00a0 Then if after a while you don\u2019t like it or you think you\u2019re not going to be successful in the training, you can ask for a transfer to the FSS option.\u00a0 The trick is to get your foot in the door, don\u2019t you see?\u00a0 Tell you the truth, it ain\u2019t easy getting hired into the FAA so if you are, I\u2019d take full advantage of the opportunity.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, thanks for your help.\u201d I said, a bit disappointed as I hung up.\u00a0 I turned to Kaz and told her that we\u2019d just have to play the cards we\u2019d been dealt.<\/p>\n

An Air Force Surprise<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Since my solo flight in September I had been extremely busy\u2014well, busier than normal.\u00a0 Our squadron had been asked to step up training and several of our lower-ranking airmen had already been shipped out to Vietnam.\u00a0 Because I had to train the new replacements, my workdays started to take a toll on my mid-day flying as we sometimes worked right through our lunch.<\/p>\n

At the same time, Mr. Sims had decided that we should all tune up our salesmanship techniques in order to set some sales records during the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday season.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t mind the extra money, but because I wanted to be sure to be ready to take my Private Pilot\u2019s certification prior to my upcoming Air Force discharge, I begged off coming in to work early on Sunday mornings and scheduled myself to fly two to three hours in order to make up for my lost weekday flying sessions.<\/p>\n

When I wasn\u2019t flying or selling shoes, I was hitting the books to make sure I could answer whatever questions the Check Ride pilot decided to ask whenever I went up for my pilot\u2019s exam.<\/p>\n

One sunny morning as I drove onto the base to start my duty day, I decided to stop at the administrative building to check my mail.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t do this very often as most of my mail was normally delivered to our home, but as I approached my mail slot I saw that there was a large official-looking manila enveloped stuffed into it.<\/p>\n

I pulled it out and saw that it had been mailed from Air Force Headquarters in Washington D. C.\u00a0 I quickly assumed it had something to do with my upcoming discharge so I didn\u2019t open it right away.\u00a0 Starting my car, I noted that I was still a bit early for my shift so I grabbed the envelope from the passenger seat and ripped open the seal.<\/p>\n

Orders!\u00a0 The envelope contained three identical sets of orders reassigning me for twelve months to Kotzebue, Alaska\u2014a remote radar station located on the far northwest coast of the state.\u00a0 My assignment was to begin on February 3^{rd<\/sup>, 1969, and I was being granted home leave the entire month of January.\u00a0 My whole body turned cold and my mouth turned as dry as sand.<\/p>\n}

For a few moments, all I could think of was having to leave my wife\u2014again\u2014and having to spend another year of my life in loneliness and isolation.<\/p>\n

Then\u2026my brain came to!\u00a0 WAIT!!\u00a0 They can\u2019t send me anywhere<\/u> in February, my mind screamed out.\u00a0 By then I\u2019m a goddam civilian and completely out of the military.\u00a0 Because I had served two full enlistments they couldn\u2019t even make me join the fucking reserves!\u00a0 No way!<\/p>\n

I balled up my fists and banged on the steering wheel of my little red sports car, trying to blow out the tension that had instantly built up in my body.<\/p>\n

I rammed the stack of paper back into the envelope and pushed myself out of my car, heading towards the stairs of the administrative building.\u00a0 By God, I thought, I\u2019ll be talking to someone about this shit\u2026and right now!<\/p>\n

Re-entering the large marble-floored lobby, I re-traced my steps back to the mail room.\u00a0 I knew that somewhere in that complex of offices and cubicles there had to be an administrative officer, and that\u2019s who I needed to speak to.<\/p>\n

After a few minutes of walking I finally found the offices that housed the administrative personnel attached to my wing.\u00a0 I cautiously opened a door and stepped in.<\/p>\n

A young airman in full dress blues was sitting behind a desk in an area that I assumed was designated to be reception.\u00a0 Since I outranked him I didn\u2019t worry too much about being diplomatic.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, I need to speak to someone about a set of orders I just received in my mail box.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK\u2026uh\u2026Sergeant DeLe\u00f3n,\u201d he said, scanning the name embroidered above my right breast pocket, \u201cwhat is it you want to know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s complicated.\u00a0 I need to speak to an administrative officer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if I know what it\u2019s about I could probably point you in the right direction.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, I just got these orders in my mail box\u2014sending me to Kotzebue, Alaska, on a twelve-month remote assignment, and it just so happens I won\u2019t be able to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I take a look at them?\u201d<\/p>\n

I handed the envelope over to him.\u00a0 After pulling the orders out and reading through them he looked up at me and said, \u201cThese all seem to be proper.\u00a0 Besides, they come from USAF Headquarters in Washington, D.C. so, they\u2019re legit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey may be legit, but I won\u2019t be able to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I ask why not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, my enlistment ends on December 15^{th<\/sup>, so I will be a civilian by February.\u201d<\/p>\n}

\u201cOh\u2026.in that case let me go talk to the first sergeant and see what he says.\u00a0 Let me take a copy of these orders if you don\u2019t mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, here you go.\u201d\u00a0 I pulled the first copy from the stack and give it to him.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t have long to wait.\u00a0 A few minutes after the airman disappeared behind a door after knocking and being admitted he came back out, still carrying the set of orders in his hands.\u00a0 He looked at me a bit sheepishly and said, \u201cThe sergeant says he can\u2019t do anything about this and that the orders are correct.\u00a0 You\u2019ll have to be in Alaska on February 1^{st<\/sup>.\u201d\u00a0 He stuck the set of orders out for me to take.<\/p>\n}

Resisting my first impulse to bitch-slap the airman\u2019s sheepish little grin smack off his face, I instead quickly regained control of myself and asked simply, \u201cOK, could I just talk to an administrative officer, please?\u00a0 I\u2019d like someone, preferably an officer, to look me in the eye and tell me that as a civilian I am duty-bound to obey Air Force orders.\u201d<\/p>\n

He slowly lowered the sheaf of papers and looked around.\u00a0 \u201cWell, I guess I could see if Lieutenant Rainwater is available.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLieutenant Rainwater?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, he\u2019s just a junior officer\u2014a first lieutenant\u2014but you won\u2019t need to make an appointment with him.\u00a0 He\u2019s usually not too busy.\u00a0 You want me to check to see if he\u2019s available?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, please\u2026\u201d I said, resisting the urge to clench my teeth.\u00a0 He turned and quickly walked away and into a maze of small office cubicles.<\/p>\n

Finding his way back in a couple of minutes, the envelope and my orders gone from his hand, he said, \u201cThe lieutenant will see you now.\u00a0 He\u2019s studying your orders.\u00a0 Follow me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked behind him, and finally arrived at a small cubicle where a tall, thin, blond-haired officer sat.\u00a0 He was studying my orders intently.<\/p>\n

\u201cSir.\u00a0 Sergeant DeLe\u00f3n to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I snapped to attention and popped a smart salute.\u00a0 Without looking up, he half-heartedly returned my salute.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, sir.\u00a0 Sorry to bother you with this so early in the day.\u201d\u00a0 Again, without looking up from the stack of orders he motioned me to a metal chair sitting next to his desk.\u00a0 I sat down, keeping my back rigid and off the back of the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d he finally said, \u201cyou say you think these orders are not official?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir, they are official; and I\u2019m sure that the Air Force has all intentions of sending me to Alaska next February.\u00a0 That\u2019s not the problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe looked up and for the first time looked at me.\u00a0 \u201cWell then, what is the problem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell sir, as I explained to the airman when I first came in, I am due to be separated from the Air Force in December, so by the time these I\u2019m supposed to be in Alaska I\u2019ll be a civilian.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026\u201d\u00a0 He turned in his chair to face me fully.\u00a0 \u201cSo, you\u2019ve already put in your paperwork for a December discharge?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir, I have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd, when do you become active in the Air Force reserves?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI won\u2019t be in the reserves, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSergeant DeLe\u00f3n, you have to serve at least two years in the reserves after your discharge\u2014you know that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir, but I\u2019m completing my second four-year enlistment and I won\u2019t have to sign up for the reserves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u00a0 I didn\u2019t know that.\u00a0 Well now, that puts a little different spin on this.\u00a0 Have you discussed this with your commanding officer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir.\u00a0 I just received these orders today.\u00a0 They were in my mail slot when I arrived to work this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see.\u00a0 Well\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSir?\u201d\u00a0 He was back to studying my orders intently.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, well I don\u2019t see what can be done about this.\u00a0 These orders originated from Headquarters USAF, in Washington\u2014so normally nothing can be done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt means that legally you\u2019re bound to obey these orders.\u00a0 No one in this command can change or abridge these orders.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him and wanted to say something, but nothing would come to my mouth that didn\u2019t contain a vile curse word.<\/p>\n

He looked back at me and smiled\u2014sheepishly.<\/p>\n

I stood up and retrieved the packet and the manila envelope from his desk.\u00a0 \u201cWell sir, just so you know: \u00a0Respectfully, I have no intention of obeying these orders next February.\u00a0 So I guess the Air Force will just have to come find and arrest me for being AWOL.\u201d\u00a0 I stood up and looked around his cubicle, finally seeing what I was looking for. \u201cMay I sir?\u201d I asked as I pointed.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, yes\u2026sure.\u201d\u00a0 He said, probably not sure what I was talking about.<\/p>\n

I took a couple of steps and dropped the packet into his trashcan.\u00a0 I turned, saluted, and without another word, quickly exited his cubicle.<\/p>\n

As I walked back out into the hallway, I was surprised that I wasn\u2019t being pursued and apprehended by a pair of burly Air Force policemen.\u00a0 I made it to my car and headed in the direction of my squadron, not sure what was going to happen to me the following February.<\/p>\n

Private Pilot SEL (Single Engine Land)<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

September and October flew by for me.\u00a0 Besides putting in many hours at the shoe store during those cool fall evenings, I was fine tuning my flying skills for my impending pilot certification by piling up as many hours as I could during my lunch time and on weekend mornings.\u00a0 By the end of October, I had accrued well over thirty hours in the Cherokee\u2019s cockpit by executing what seemed to be hundreds of touch-and-go landings at Bergstrom, and making tedious round-robin flights to San Antonio, Hondo, Galveston, College Station, Houston, and Dallas.<\/p>\n

After a couple of final flights with my instructor a few days before, during which he ran me through the various types of landings and maneuvers which were required for certification, we reviewed procedures for engine out; did various landings such as, short field; soft field; cross-wind, and tail-wind.\u00a0 He made me perform accelerated and inflight stalls, and even gave me thirty minutes of instrument flying\u2014my outside vision obscured by a hood resembling a welder\u2019s mask.\u00a0 Having completed the exhausting process to his satisfaction, he pronounced me as fit and ready to take the written and flying exam.<\/p>\n

The day finally arrived:\u00a0 Thursday, November 21, 1968.\u00a0 It was a sunny, cloudless day, the temperature reaching a moderate 79 degrees as I pulled into the Aero Club parking lot. \u00a0I noted that both of the Cherokee 140 airplanes that the club owned were there for me to choose from for my flight from Bergstrom to Austin Mueller Airport.\u00a0 I chose my favorite of the two, tail number, N8438R, hoping that because I had done so well in that particular airplane, my pilot certification would also go well.<\/p>\n

Just before I walked out to pre-flight my airplane, I noted that my pilot log book showed that I had accumulated a total 43.2 hours in the air.\u00a0 As I turned onto to runway 35L, and introduced full power for my take-off roll, I felt that maybe another ten hours of flight instruction might\u2019ve been nice even though my flight instructor had congratulated me for having so few hours.<\/p>\n

After having mostly flown in and out of Bergstrom during my training, with its ten-thousand-foot long and three-hundred-foot wide runways, Austin Mueller Airport looked woefully small.\u00a0 As I turned final, I was cleared to land on runway 35, which was 5,006 feet long and 150 feet wide.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t sure that was enough concrete for my type of landings.\u00a0 Surprisingly, I did just fine and after I touched down was able to easily turn left onto the first taxiway.\u00a0 I glided to a smooth stop on the tarmac in front of the General Aviation Building as I had been instructed.<\/p>\n

Having safely secured my airplane, I entered the grey, low-roofed building and walked up to the briefing counter and waited until the attendant finished filling out a completed flight plan.<\/p>\n

Finally, he looked up at me.\u00a0 \u201cYes, may I help you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, hi.\u00a0 My name is Frank DeLe\u00f3n, and I\u2019m here to take my Private Pilot exam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u00a0 Just a minute.\u00a0 You do have an appointment, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I was told to arrive at 1PM, and to check in when I got here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, just a sec.\u00a0 I\u2019ll see who\u2019s the check pilot assigned to you.\u201d\u00a0 He turned and started to walk away\u2014then he quickly looked over his shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cWhat was the last name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDeLe\u00f3n.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked around the large room and noted that it resembled the Bergstrom Aero Club.\u00a0 Lots of maps, a radio chattering in the background, pilots coming and going\u2014some being debriefed by their instructors\u2014and a hint of aviation oil and gas in the air.<\/p>\n

A gruff voice caught my attention.\u00a0 \u201cSay, you the student from Bergstrom?\u00a0 DeLon?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, DeLe\u00f3n.\u201d\u00a0 He was tall and tanned, muscular, probably in his late forties, and was wearing khaki pants, and olive drab cotton shirt, under a thin brown leather flight jacket.\u00a0 Perched on his head was a tan baseball hat with the name, \u201cJACK\u201d, embroidered on the front.\u00a0 He stuck a beefy hand out.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Jack!\u00a0 Jack Webb, and I\u2019ll be your check pilot today.\u201d<\/p>\n

My blood froze.\u00a0 In the sixties, Jack Webb was a famous television actor who played a dour, business only, detective in New York in a series called, Dragnet.<\/em>\u00a0 He was known for never cracking a smile, and his famous, go-to line, while interrogating suspects, was always, \u201cJust the facts, ma\u2019am, just the facts!\u201d\u00a0 <\/em>He delivered that line through a cloud of cigarette smoke swirling from the Lucky Strike which was constantly glued to his lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026hi\u2026\u201d I managed to stutter out.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but just remember\u2014I\u2019m the real Jack Webb\u2014not that god-damned goofy-ass actor!\u201d\u00a0 He said, punctuating his little joke with a resounding slap on my back.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, OK\u2026\u201d\u00a0 I said, still a little terrified.<\/p>\n

He motioned for me to follow him as he walked toward a small office.\u00a0 On an old wooden desk, I saw a small sheaf of papers.\u00a0 \u201cHere,\u201d he said, \u201csit here and take this written test.\u00a0 If you know anything at all about flying you\u2019ll be able to finish this in about ten minutes.\u00a0 Let me know when you\u2019re done.\u00a0 There\u2019s a pencil there.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat down and looked at the first page.\u00a0 \u201cOK.\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

As he walked out, he looked over his shoulder and said, \u201cAnd don\u2019t cheat.\u00a0 Just because there\u2019s all that shit on the walls of my office doesn\u2019t mean you get to look at them!\u201d\u00a0 Then he slammed the door shut.<\/p>\n

As terrified as I was, I wasn\u2019t about to even look at anything other than the papers in front of me.\u00a0 I figured he\u2019d pop in just to see if I was cheating.\u00a0 (Just the facts, ma\u2019am.\u00a0 Just the facts.)<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0He graded my test, which had consisted of weight and balance problems, meteorology, CG (center of gravity) calculations, and my knowledge of navigational aids and VFR chart symbology interpretation.\u00a0 After making several marks on my paper he announced to no one in particular, \u201cYou aced the damned thing!\u00a0 Now let\u2019s see if you can fly as well as you take paper tests!\u201d<\/p>\n

He watched me as I began to preflight my airplane then abruptly said, \u201cOK, you just flew this thing over here from Bergstrom so if there wasn\u2019t anything wrong with it when you landed an hour ago there shouldn\u2019t be anything wrong with it now.\u00a0 Let\u2019s go punch some holes in the sky!\u201d<\/p>\n

He did pay very close attention to me as I read off each item on the checklist on pre-start, start, and taxi-out.\u00a0 Since I wasn\u2019t very familiar with this airport he pointed out an area just short of the active runway where I could do my run-up and magneto checks.\u00a0 Before I knew it we were in the air.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK,\u201d he said, as I trimmed the aircraft for climb out flight.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re gonna do me some dead-reckoning navigation now, so climb up to sixty-five hundred feet and plot me a course to Hondo, Texas.\u201d<\/p>\n

I leveled the airplane at altitude and re-trimmed for level cruise flight.\u00a0 After leaning out the fuel mixture for maximum cruise I took up an initial heading of two-hundred and ten degrees (south-south-west) for Hondo.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m setting a two-ten heading until I can plot a more direct course to destination,\u201d I told Jack, who seemed to be distracted by the beautiful flat brown and green Texas landscape.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-huh,\u201d he said, still looking out his starboard window.\u00a0 \u201cWhen you figure that out, tell me our time enroute, and our fuel burn.\u00a0 Don\u2019t forget to figure the winds into your calculations.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d\u00a0 I said, a little insulted that he\u2019d think I\u2019d forget that.\u00a0 I found Hondo on the sectional and folded the map so it would fit on my half-sized clipboard.\u00a0 Within a few minutes I had plotted a route direct to Hondo and had calculated the time enroute.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like a heading of two-one-three degrees at this altitude, and one-plus-ten enroute (one hour, ten minutes).\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow you gonna know you\u2019re on course?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, there\u2019s a water tower depicted on the chart here,\u201d I pointed to a small figure on the chart, \u201cso on our course it should be just off to our right in about five minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, how about highways?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo real large highways, but there\u2019s a main road from San Antonio to Hondo\u2026\u201d\u00a0 I looked out my window and spotted the highway.\u00a0 \u201cSo that should help in keeping me on course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProviding you don\u2019t run into a cloud layer, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir.\u00a0 As a VFR pilot I have to maintain a constant view of the ground and stay clear of clouds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight answer.\u00a0 OK, let\u2019s turn this hog around and get us back to Austin.\u00a0 I wanna see how you handle landings.\u00a0 So, without referring to your sectional how would you navigate us back?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, I tune in the Austin VORTAC (navigational aid) and fly an inbound radial.\u00a0 That should guide us directly back to the airport.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight again.\u00a0 Let\u2019s do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

As we approached the airport Jack seemed to take a keener interest in what the airplane was doing.\u00a0 For the last fifteen, or so, minutes he had been nothing more than a casual observer as I did my best to stay on the inbound radial to Austin.\u00a0 By my calculations we were just about eight miles southwest and now flying at five-thousand-five-hundred feet\u2014the correct VFR altitude for our direction of flight.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d he said, stifling a healthy yawn, \u201chow far you think you\u2019re from Austin?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout eight miles.\u00a0 I\u2019m getting ready to start a slow descent and call the airport for clearance into the traffic pattern.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight-o!\u00a0 Tell\u2019um we\u2019re going to be making multiple touch-and-go landings.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart skipped a beat and I wondered just how many landings we were going to do.\u00a0 \u201cSure, OK.\u201d\u00a0 I said.\u00a0 \u201cAustin Tower, N8436R, six miles southwest, descending to pattern altitude and requesting multiple touch and go\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, Austin Tower, roger.\u00a0 Report entering downwind, runway 35 right, wind three-six-zero at 8 knots, altimeter 3012.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, roger.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack hoisted his large frame upright in the Cherokee\u2019s smallish passenger seat, grunted, and said, \u201cOK, I want you to set the airplane up for a short field landing.\u00a0 Be sure you tell the tower that you\u2019re a student pilot on a check ride so he\u2019ll know what to expect.\u201d<\/p>\n

My body absolutely froze!\u00a0 The first landing, and he wants me to make it a short field!\u00a0 That was my absolute worse landing of all the ones that I\u2019d learned.\u00a0 It called for me to set up the airplane for a steep full-flap, high-speed, descent\u2014finally flaring the plane ten to fifteen feet above the runway and touching down right on the numbers!\u00a0 During my training with Marshall I had yet to properly execute the landing to his satisfaction\u2014either landing too long, too hard, or too fast.\u00a0 As I descended down to pattern altitude I resigned myself to failing the check ride.<\/p>\n

I scanned the pattern and verified that there was no traffic.\u00a0 Reducing power, I descended into the right traffic pattern.\u00a0 \u201cAustin Tower, N8436R, entering right traffic pattern at pattern altitude.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, roger.\u00a0 Report turning base leg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, roger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, remember,\u201d Jack said sternly, \u201cline up the aircraft on centerline, drop full flaps, and center the nose on the numbers.\u00a0 From that point on, you\u2019re controlling your speed with the elevators and your rate of descent with power.\u00a0 If your nose pushes up beyond the numbers it means you\u2019re going too fast so you\u2019ll need to pull back on the yoke to slow down.\u00a0 Concurrently, if you\u2019re nose drops below the numbers you\u2019re descending too fast so you\u2019ll have to add power to slow your descent.\u00a0 Remember, a short field landing means you have to land with a minimum of rollout.\u00a0 Got it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yup, got it.\u201d\u00a0 I wanted him to be quiet so I could concentrate on what I was doing.\u00a0 At that point my multi-tasking skills were being pushed to their absolute maximum.\u00a0 As I concentrated on keeping the runway numbers, 35R, <\/strong>square on the nose, I realized that they were located at the absolute beginning of the concrete runway.\u00a0 At Bergstrom, the runways were so incredibly large (mostly designed to handle the monstrous B-52s that had been stationed there in the early sixties) that a huge 30-yard over-run had been added to the either end of each of the runways, and painted in a bright yellow cross hatch mark design.\u00a0 Then ten yards after the over-run, the huge runway numbers had been painted in.\u00a0 Not so at Austin.<\/p>\n

Here, there was grass, and then the runway started\u2014the numbers painted a bare five yards from the start of the concrete runway.\u00a0 If the landing was short of the numbers there was an excellent possibility that the main gear would land on grass.\u00a0 If that happened, there was a more than good chance that the gear would be ripped off as the concrete runway\u2019s six-inch height above the ground smashed into the wheels.\u00a0 More often than not, when executing my short field landings at Bergstrom I landed short\u2014in the yellow hatched area.\u00a0 If I did that here, no telling what was going to happen.<\/p>\n

I was not only going to fail my check ride, I was about to kill Jack Webb.<\/p>\n

\u201cSteady, steady\u2026\u201d Jack softly hissed as we descended.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t forget, your flare-out is going to have to be over-exaggerated to quickly bleed off airspeed and stall as your gear hits the runway.\u201d<\/p>\n

The runway numbers began to grow larger and larger, but I held them right on the nose!\u00a0 Suddenly my instinct told me to pull back hard on the yoke, inducing an exaggerated flare-out.\u00a0 The numbers disappeared under the plane, and I clenched my teeth, waiting on the sound of the gear ripping off!\u00a0 Instead, I heard a sweet, soft squeal as the two main gear tires kissed the hot concrete.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeautiful!\u00a0 Just god-damned beautiful!\u00a0 Jesus!\u201d\u00a0 Startled, I turned to see Jack slapping his huge hands on his hunched-up knees.\u00a0 \u201cHoly shit!\u00a0 That was the best god-damned short field landing I\u2019ve ever seen.\u00a0 Shit!\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know what to say.\u00a0 I was just glad I was still alive.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck!!\u00a0 OK, clean up the airplane and climb up to pattern altitude!\u00a0 Tell the tower you want another touch and go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK\u2026uh.\u201d\u00a0 I fumbled to grab the microphone speaker from where it had slipped\u2014under my crotch.\u00a0 \u201cAustin Tower, N8436R, request departure, right turn to remain in the pattern for another touch and go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRoger, N8436R, cleared right turn pattern altitude, report turning base and final.\u00a0 Wind three-four-zero at nine knots, altimeter 3012.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, roger.\u201d\u00a0 I pulled the flaps in, applied full power, and rose back into the sky.<\/p>\n

I stole a look at Jack and he was grinning like a kid.\u00a0 \u201cOK,\u201d he said, \u201clet\u2019s do another one of those!\u00a0 That last one was fabulous!\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart sunk.\u00a0 This time I would surely kill us.\u00a0 He had no idea that that last successful landing had been nothing but pure luck.\u00a0 No way I could ever do that again; and now I really wanted to pee.<\/p>\n

\u201cN8436R, turning final to runway 35 right, touch and go.\u201d\u00a0 I said, thinking that those would probably be my last words on earth.\u00a0 The tower mumbled their acknowledgment and cleared me for the touch and go.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s nail this fucker!\u201d Jack said, enthusiastically.\u00a0 His last words too, for sure.<\/p>\n

I felt the rate of descent was too steep and I cautiously added power.\u00a0 The numbers grew to their abnormally gigantic size again, and I pulled forcefully back on the yoke.<\/p>\n

Squeak!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHOLY SHIT!\u00a0 YOU FUCKING DID IT AGAIN!\u00a0 HOLY SHIT!\u201d<\/p>\n

I pushed the nose down, and while rolling slowly down the runway, asked meekly, \u201cYou want me do to another one?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNO!\u00a0 Give me the fucking airplane!\u00a0 I wanna try one!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, your airplane.\u201d\u00a0 I took my hands off the yoke and pulled my feet off the rudder pedals.\u00a0 He pulled the flaps up and added power.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell the tower we\u2019re gonna do another one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew we were really were gonna die on this approach.\u00a0 He set up the airplane too close in and the rate of descent was too great.\u00a0 He added power to slow our sink rate but it was too late.\u00a0 I saw the plane\u2019s nose swallow up the numbers and we were still nowhere near the surface.\u00a0 Jack cursed, pushed the nose over, and we began a gentle porpoise maneuver.\u00a0 The wheels banged onto the concrete and we bounced back up into the air.\u00a0 Nose down again, and we bounced once more.\u00a0 We did this three or four times.\u00a0 He finally got the plane under control near midfield.<\/p>\n

\u201cFUCK!\u201d\u00a0 He said.\u00a0 \u201cYour airplane.\u201d\u00a0 I pulled flaps in and applied brakes to slow our speed.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother one?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck no!\u00a0 Tell the tower we\u2019re done.\u00a0 Take that next taxiway and let\u2019s get back to the GA.\u201d\u00a0 (General Aviation building).<\/p>\n

As I pulled the throttle full out and cut fuel flow, killing the engine, he kicked open the door.\u00a0 The cool air swirling into the cockpit reminded me just how sweaty I was.\u00a0 \u201cSecure the plane and then come on in.\u00a0 I\u2019ll sign you off on your logbook.\u00a0 Congratulations, you\u2019re a private pilot.\u201d<\/p>\n

The entire flight had lasted eight-tenths of an hour\u2014or 48 minutes.<\/p>\n

But, I had prevailed.\u00a0 And now, after all the effort that Kaz and I had put into this endeavor, I was now, Frank DeLe\u00f3n, Private Pilot (SEL), Certificate #1890712.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"