Flying Carpet

Adventures of a 13-year-old

Give me the sick sack!" pleaded my young passenger. To my distress he immediately began filling it. Zack is 13 and plans to become a pilot, so I had long promised to take him flying. Unfortunately, every time I'd previously offered, he was busy.

So when I planned a flight to Las Vegas, Zack got the first call.

"Zack's not here," said his mother, Jeanette, when I phoned, "but certainly he'll want to go. I'll arrange his absence from school on Thursday." Based on a forecast of clear skies and calm winds, I phoned my passenger Wednesday night to confirm he was going. "Are you kidding?" joked Zack. "They made me sign papers at school saying that if I showed up there instead of flying, I'd be crazy!"

I awoke Thursday morning to clear skies, but unanticipated wind whistled through the pines. Apparently a newly formed weather system was generating northeasterly winds. That meant turbulence for my inexperienced passenger, as we'd parallel the downwind side of the Grand Canyon for our entire 200-mile route. I considered postponing the flight, but I knew Zack would be crushed if the trip were canceled. Besides, the winds weren't forecast to become blustery until midday; by then we'd be back in Flagstaff. I hurried my passenger to the airport for an early start.

"Check out the controls, Zack," I said, wiggling the ailerons and elevators from outside the airplane to demonstrate control-wheel movements. Then came a few stock disclaimers: "Here's water and a survival kit in case of an unexpected landing," I explained. "Ignore any flashing lights or warning messages, as none relate to the safety of our flight." There's no point in panicking passengers over a blinking transponder bulb.

Next, I mentioned the wind. "We have great flying weather this morning, so I expect a safe and beautiful flight. It's a little windy, though, so we may experience a few bumps. We'll keep the cockpit cool for comfort; please tell me right away if you feel warm." I also pointed out the relief bags. "You won't need these, but here they are 'just in case.' Remember, there's nothing embarrassing about using a sick sack--what's embarrassing is not using one!" Grinning, my young passenger climbed aboard.

Zack tested his taxiing skills en route to the runway. After takeoff I jotted down our radar traffic advisory request so he could make the radio call to Albuquerque Center. Then I explained the instruments. We also discussed how wind flows over terrain like water over rocks in a brook. When people understand turbulence, it bothers them less. Soon Zack was anticipating future bumps in the lee of upcoming ridges.

Noting my friend's growing comfort, I demonstrated the flight controls and handed them over. He took to them--well, like a 13-year-old. If only I could learn so quickly! In no time Zack piloted us skillfully along the western margins of the Grand Canyon. Along the way I quizzed him about school and his favorite pastime, fishing. I also learned about the girl he likes. (Don't read this, Mom.)

"How will we recognize the Nevada border?" I asked during a lull. Zack noted a squiggly line on the GPS. "I mean out the window," I said, pointing to our chart. "See the Colorado River? It's 70 miles away and we're going 140, so we should cross exactly one-half hour from now." Passengers love testing such predictions. ("We're two minutes late," Zack would observe upon crossing the waterway.)

With only occasional bumps, my passenger did fine until we passed Peach Springs, but then he mentioned a little discomfort. He removed his jacket and headset, and we opened the air vents. "You probably won't need this," I reiterated, handing Zack a relief bag. Fortunately my efforts succeeded. Despite continuing light turbulence, Zack felt better by the time we approached Henderson Executive Airport. Intrigued, he noted the audio contrast between rapid-fire Las Vegas radio communications and the 200 quiet miles we'd just flown. Zack was hungry when we landed, but mindful of possible future discomfort, I discouraged him from eating.

Temperatures were in the 90s with gusty winds when we departed for home. By the time we could climb outside of Las Vegas airspace, my young friend was again queasy. Unfortunately, the vents weren't enough this time, as we were still thousands of feet from reaching cooler temperatures. Never did Zack complain, but several times he got sick as we proceeded home, clutching the now-bulging bag in his hand. "Don't be discouraged," I said. "Every pilot gets queasy once in awhile."

"Looks kinda dark up ahead," said Zack lethargically as we approached Flagstaff. Sure enough, unforecast rainshowers shrouded Humphreys Peak. Fortunately the airport is on the other side of town, so we landed uneventfully. "I hope you enjoyed the flying, Zack," I offered remorsefully as we taxied in. "We could keep the getting-sick part to ourselves."

"Oh yeah, I had lots of fun," he replied unconvincingly. "And it's OK telling my parents about getting sick--the barf bag kinda added to the adventure."

The following morning I saw Jeanette and her husband, Les. "Thanks for taking Zack flying," said Jeanette. "I'm just glad he asked for the bag."

"Zack did great," I replied. "Hopefully he had fun despite getting sick. I'd hate to blow his future flying career over a sick sack."

"Don't feel guilty, Greg," chuckled Jeanette. "You should have heard Zack phoning his friend when he got home. 'Guess what!' he said. 'I barfed three times on the plane! It really made the trip memorable.'"

"The mysterious mind of a 13-year-old," Les observed.

"Anyway," said Jeanette, "I doubt the problem was the plane ride. Zack ran repeatedly to the bathroom last night; we think he has a touch of the flu."

Greg Brown was the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year. His books include Flying Carpet, The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, Job Hunting for Pilots, and You Can Fly! Visit his Web site.