"You must persuade your son to be in the marching band invitational."
"But he loves band," I said. "Why would he not participate?"
"There's some sort of track meet that day, but you must convince him band is more important. We have only 38 members, and several already can't come. Without Austin, we'd have only two trumpets."
I knew better than to second-guess my son on what was apparently a volatile topic, but I promised the band director that I'd check into it.
"Austin," I said, when he arrived home from school, "what's the deal with Ms. Patterson and the marching band competition?"
"She just doesn't understand!" he said with the irritation that only a teenager can muster. "There's no way I'm skipping the state cross-country meet. The band competition is important, but so are cross-country finals. I just can't believe they're happening on the same day."
It turned out that the marching band was to compete at 2:45 p.m. at Eastern Arizona College near Safford, on the New Mexico border. By bus that's some three hours from our Phoenix home over two-lane roads, so the band was to depart at 10 a.m.
But our school's slot at the state cross-country meet was scheduled for 11:30 a.m. that same day in the Phoenix suburb of Chandler. It wouldn't be over until 12:30 p.m. at the earliest.
Now anyone who can't guess what I did next should be reading a boating magazine, not one about flying. I pulled out my sectional chart and hatched a plan. Flight time from Phoenix to Safford should be about an hour in the ol' Flying Carpet, a Cessna 182. The question was whether we could make the logistics work? As little as 45 minutes would be available for ground transportation at both ends. That ruled out flying from our home airport, an hour's drive from the track meet. Hmmm? maybe if Austin and my wife, Jean, could hitch a ride after the meet to the closer Williams Gateway Airport, I could reposition the airplane from Scottsdale and be there waiting to pick them up.
I also learned that Eastern Arizona College is only seven miles from Safford Airport, and that the nice folks there would loan us their courtesy car. Austin would be tired after this rush trip, but he was game to try. And of course, once Ms. Patterson got over the novelty of our plan, she was all for it.
As the big day approached, a new crisis arose. On Thursday the band director called again, more distraught than ever. Two other band members, the Markey brothers, could not attend because of a family wedding in Scottsdale at 6 p.m. on Saturday. With the band competition not expected to end until 4 p.m., there was no way that they could make it home. "Is there any possibility," she pleaded, "that you could fly them home in the airplane?"
I wasn't sure Mrs. Markey would go for the plan, but as it turned out, she was thrilled that they might march in the band and make the family wedding. The only downside was that with the airplane full for the return trip, Austin would have to ride the bus home instead of flying. But with his logistical problems solved, he was happy to help out.
All of us waited with bated breath to see if this complex plan would work; I became particularly concerned when Friday's forecasts called for a cold front to cross the state on Saturday. (Of course I'd informed all parties that if Arizona's normally benign weather proved problematic, all bets were off.)
Fortunately, Saturday dawned hazy but flyable. After an initial panic when Jean's ride to the cross-country meet didn't show up on time, I repositioned the airplane from Scottsdale to Williams Gateway.
Jean and Austin showed up at 12:45 p.m., just enough time for a quick sub sandwich before launching for Safford at 1 p.m. Austin flew-it was the least I could offer since he'd be riding the bus home-and after skirting 10,700-foot Mount Graham, we spotted Safford in the fertile Gila River Valley. We touched down around 2 p.m. Austin quickly changed from running shorts to band uniform, and after a mad dash from the airport, we intercepted the band at Eastern Arizona College just in time for warmup at 2:45 p.m.
Our band played well, and while the scores were tallied, Jean and I got a few moments to relax and groove to a demonstration performance by the Eastern Arizona College Marching Gila Monsters. (Find that mascot anywhere else!)
As soon as band photos were shot and awards dispensed, we collected Andrew and Spencer Markey and rushed back to the airport, leaving Austin at the band bus. We took off moments after sunset, reclaiming sunshine just in time for the boys to see the sun set twice on their first-ever airplane flight.
As Jean flew us home, sunset-reddened skies deepened to silhouette the mountains in purple, then turned to black as we approached Scottsdale for landing. I radioed unicom to phone the boys' father, which led to the only glitch of our trip-Jim went to the wrong location on the airport. Fortunately, we connected just before 6 p.m., and off he rushed with his boys to the wedding.
Mission accomplished! Ah, the glory of being a pilot. For a few days I even got to be a high school hero. Hey, better late than never!
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