Never Again: Airshow awkwardness

Not sure of the year. Late 1970s/early ’80s. I had been flying for awhile but not yet instructing, so I probably only had 100 or so hours in the logbook. I had always wanted to fly into an airshow, so I rented an airplane from my club and took along a pilot buddy, and we made a day of it. I don’t recall where the show was. It could have been any of several held each year throughout Northern California. I do recall that we flew in early and parked on the ramp, which was soon closed to prepare for the show.

The event would take a brief pause in the afternoon to let fly-in visitors depart, then resume for the grand finale. The show was crowded with pilots, aviation enthusiasts, and the curious, and I remember seeing Bob Hoover entertain the crowd with his mastery of aerodynamics and energy management in his Shrike Commander.

When the show paused and it came time to leave, a flock of pilots scurried to their airplanes to make the short departure window. My buddy and I hustled to my little Cessna.

“Let’s team up on the preflight to speed things up,” I suggested. “You get the gas and oil, I’ll do the interior and airframe. We’ll be out of here in a flash!”

The preflight went fine (I thought); we got in the airplane and fired up. Much of the crowd was now enthralled by all the little airplanes starting and taxiing out to the runway. Kids were perched on dads’ shoulders, and people were shading their eyes from the sun as they watched the bevy of private pilots do what many in the crowd dreamed they would do one day: pilot a private airplane.

I noticed that several in the crowd were watching us as our engine started, but I supposed they were just marveling at the beauty of my rented Cessna 172. We got the ATIS, called for taxi, and were cleared to the runway. That’s when it started.

Bringing the power in a little, I expected to begin moving, but it was not to be. Maybe I was stuck in a little rut, so I juiced the throttle a little more. Still nothing. A microsecond later I knew what was wrong—our chocks were still in place! Looking down out the pilot window confirmed my diagnosis. Expletive deleted. Expletive deleted.

I did the only thing I could do—I shut the engine down and got out to remove the chocks. I wasn’t half-way out the door when I heard the first applause. Then it seemed to spread like The Wave through Lambeau Field. It seemed like tens of thousands of people were clapping, pointing, and laughing. It was probably only four or five, and I doubt anybody actually laughed, but the damage was done. I was thoroughly embarrassed, and rightly so. I had committed several unforgivable sins in the aviation world, and many knew it. Worst of all, I knew it, and that’s why it has stuck with me all these years.

Sin No. 1: succumbing to the external pressure of a time constraint. We had only a few minutes to depart the airshow. It was probably long enough to do it safely, but there was pressure. I was a low-time guy and not looking at the big picture. I should have waited until the show was over to leave.

Sin No. 2: dividing the preflight chores. I was pilot in command that day and should have done the entire preflight myself, using a written checklist to confirm that everything—including removal of the chocks—had been completed. Instead, I had my partner do some things, which threw off my normal rhythm. Bad decision.

Sin No. 3: I removed the chocks and took off in a state of complete embarrassment. I could not have been thinking straight. The stress that the applause from the crowd (however minor) created doubtless made me an unsafe pilot that day. I should have taken a break, chilled out, watched the rest of the show, and let my buddy fly back. That would have been a better decision.

Pilots make mistakes. Some create a momentary embarrassment; others can result in danger and bad outcomes. The goal for all of us who ply the skies for fun or profit should be to learn from our mistakes, master the art of self-evaluation, and share what we learn in the wide open so others can benefit.

We all have “never again” experiences. What’s yours?

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