Tag Archives: flying

HOPPY WINS THROUGH

Wendy and Jack flew to Albuquerque this week. They may be a little tired.

The weather out of Denver was windy. Very windy. Hoppy, the bunny conferred with his colleagues Cortez the sea turtle, and Peachy the red fox. All three graced the tails of Frontier aircraft, but only Hoppy’s was scheduled to go.

The raccoon wasn’t there

“It’s windy,” said Hoppy, his ears laid back.

“No shit,” said Cortez. “You still gonna fly?”

“Gotta get these passengers to Albuquerque.” Hoppy’s nose twitched in the general direction of the people shuffling onto the plane, clutching bags and hats against the breeze.

“Well,” said Peachy.

“Nice knowing you,” Cortez added.

The plane took off, almost immediately jacking sideways against the currents. Inside the cabin, a child began to wail. Hoppy folded his paws and waited.

The flight was only 56 minutes. As the craft reached cruising altitude, the turbulence eased. The child ceased screaming. Hoppy breathed a sigh of relief. So did the passengers.

With twenty minutes to go, the pilot sent the flight attendants a message: fasten in, it’s going to be a rough landing. The chief flight attendant told the passengers that if they wanted to go to the bathroom using an actual toilet, now was the time and that would be appreciated because otherwise they would have to clean the seat if they didn’t. The passengers were not amused, but several with small children got up and were promptly sent back to their seats because federal aviation regulations prevent queueing at the lavatory while in the sky.

Hoppy watched everyone buckle in. His nose sniffed the wind. And pee from a couple of children who hadn’t made it.

The plane’s nose dipped. Hoppy squatted on his haunches, a look of steely determination on his face.

“How’s it going?” Peachy’s voice came in through Hoppy’s antenna ears.

“Looking grim. I’ll see them through, Peachy.”

“You always do,” said Peachy. In the background, Cortez the turtle sang “Sooooo long, it’s been good to know ya.”

Inside, the passengers began to tighten their belts and look nervously out the window. Hoppy turned his ears toward the control tower and heard “… too much crosswind so circle around.”

The plane banked sharply left. Inside, the child began screaming again.

Hoppy hunched over the wing, gripping tightly with his paws. “I’ll see them through, no matter what,” he muttered, and began to battle the wind. Left, right, up, down, his paws flexed flaps and pulled levers, ears flat against his head, whiskers pointing due north.

The plane descended, hit an air pocket, and bounced. The screaming child was joined by several passengers.

“Fuck,” said Hoppy, and regained his footing, using his lucky rabbit feet.

A final dip, a swift correction, and the plane bounced once on the runway. Hoppy pulled hard on the brake, whiskers and ears flat against the wind. The plane stopped. The child stopped screaming. So did most of the passengers.

Hoppy wiped sweat from his furred brow and adjusted his ears.

“Everything all right over there?” Peachy’s voice came in loud and clear.

“Just peachy, Peachy. I got them safely in.”

“You always do, Hoppy,” Peachy said.

In the background, Cortez spoke. “We said a fiver, you cheater. Pay up.”

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Filed under bad writing, book reviews, humor, small town USA, Uncategorized, Wendy Welch

To Boldly Go – – –

Jack’s weekly guest post –

 

Wendy and I were in Washington DC recently and, while she was attending to business, I got myself down to the air and space museum on the National Mall. It was the second time I’d been and the earlier visit some five years ago was of necessity brief. On this occasion I had three hours to spare and saw pretty much everything I’d missed last time.

I should explain here that I’m a sucker for anything to do with flying and have frittered away many hours of my life building model planes (the airborne variety).

Just inside the entrance to the museum sit many of the space exhibits, including the early capsules. I had never stood that close to one before, and I was astonished by what I saw. Here was a flimsy cone-shaped object barely bigger than the chair it enclosed, filled with very 1960s technology – toggle switches and dials that wouldn’t look out of place in a car of that era. A man sat in that thing and was shot into space, where he sailed along completely dependent on the calculations of colleagues sitting thousands of miles away. How on earth (ha!) could anyone do that?! Even the later moon landing vehicles aren’t all that much bigger, and still look incredibly fragile.

Carrying on through the museum I viewed the other machines, from the Wright Brothers’ famous Flyer through the early airliners and the first jet planes. The common thread was just how flimsy and ‘basic’ they all seemed. After visiting the museum, how anyone can get into a modern airliner without a pang of fear is beyond me.

So what connects the Wright brothers and their ilk to folk like Neil Armstrong? I can only presume that it’s complete confidence in the design of the craft that carries them and a sense that they’re breaking through a barrier – “to boldly go – – -”

Now, the odder question: what connects these space ramblings to our bookstore – apart from me indulging my love of flying machines?

We had a couple of visitors from Northern Virginia in the shop yesterday, market gardeners who are active in promoting community sustainability from the ground up (literally). While talking to them I suddenly got a picture in my mind of that famous photo of Earth taken by one of the astronauts from space. You all know the one I mean – with the beautiful greens and blues and all the continents in full view. If I remember correctly the astronaut was overcome by the sight and felt compelled to appeal to everyone back on the planet to take good care of it. An appeal to everyone!

So here’s to the brave people who got into those flimsy flying machines and soared, and here’s to the earthbound brave souls who hoe the rows in front of them. And here’s to keeping our beautiful, fragile Earth around for a few hundred more years?

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