My buddy, Bo Hunter, is an Angel Pilot. He volunteers his services as a pilot to transport patients from
several states to the Pearland Airport, so they can be ferried by a Ground
Angel, a volunteer, like me, from the airport to nearby medical centers for
treatment. When the patients are ready to leave, he flies them home again.
After learning that my flying lessons were on hold because
my instructor’s plane was damaged in a “bird strike” (see the post: Birds and Planes and the Cha-Cha-Cha”), Bo invited me along on one of his Angel Flight missions.
“You can be my CP,” he said, “the co-pilot.”
“My three hours of logged flying time won’t qualify me as a
CP,” I replied. “But I’d be glad to ride along as ballast if it will get me
back up in the sky.”
On the day of our mission, Bo had me sign the official
release form, listing me as the PA—pilot’s assistant. How cool is that?
The temperature on the tarmac hovered close to 90 degrees
that day, so we didn’t dally while loading up the patient, Bob Linton, and his wife, Judith, and
took off into the wild blue yonder, headed for Henderson, Texas. The photo at left
shows us flying high above the clouds, at 5,000 feet.
I handed out snacks to Bob and Judith, and relayed
flight progress to them, since they couldn’t hear our radio conversations. “I
forgot to mention,” Bo said, “you’re also the FA—flight attendant.”
I smiled and raised one eyebrow. My aeronautical career was
expanding by leaps and bounds! From CP to PA to FA—could there be more in my
future?
As soon as we landed at the Henderson airport and began our
taxi to the terminal, Bo instructed me to open the only entrance to the plane,
the door beside my seat, and hold it open a crack to let in some air so we
wouldn’t all roast inside the plane. “So that’s the real reason you invited me
on this trip,” I said. “You need a DP—door prop—for air conditioning!”
He smiled and raised both eyebrows, as the wind whipped my
hair into a frenzy. Shown in the photo are, left to right, Judith, me with my new wind-blown look, Bo, and Bob.
On our flight home, Bo explained the procedure for filling
out an official flight plan form before each mission. “And in this box,” he
said, pointing to the last field on the page, where it said ‘number aboard’, “I
wrote ‘2 SOB’s’.”
“You’re calling us SOB’s?” I asked, frowning.
“Yeah,” he replied, “two souls on board.”
Aw… how sweet is that?
Thank you, Bo, for a wonderful day in the sky!
