You know life is good when you buy a one-way ticket home from Vegas because you have to get back to work asap, and then your boyfriend waves his hand and tells you to refund the ticket (thanks, 24-hour reservation refund law!) because he’s flying you home himself in his airplane.
We were in Vegas because he has an off-road racing habit, and this weekend was the championships.
His best friend flew out for support, too, and he flew home with us, too.
Here are their shoulders.
To wave my feminist flag, I’m not one (licensed female pilot) to automatically take the backseat when another man (pilot) is in tow, but it is seriously so nice to play princess every once in a while and hang out away from the cockpit. In the back. Where I can stretch out across all the seats. What can I say? It sounds ugly to say it but I will: I am a touch lazy, a touch spoiled, a kept woman. It’s so comfortable, I hardly mind. I sat in the backseat and read Gone Girl.
And the view is so much better.
That might sound sarcastic, but I really mean that. I’m only 5’2″, and cockpit visibility is a major problem for me. Always was. During my flight training, years ago, I sat on two or three cushions. A child.
The cockpit in the King Air is enormous and overwhelming. I think that stuff is cool, but ultimately makes my head hurt. I did the IFR thing, I got the rating, I never touched it again.
This view is so much more preferable to me.
And this. Especially this.