One Degree of Separation

While not technically a soaring story it is aviation. I thought the group could use some fun from a real story and whom among us hasn't given a ride to someone we wished we hadn't.

One Degree of Separation

Full disclosure, this is a true story, but with plausible deniability and to protect me from A Civil Action, the names may have been changed to protect the guilty. Years ago, I was asked to give a helicopter flight to a young couple. The young man was the brother, let’s call him “Michael�, of a well known actress whom is married to a very well known actor whom I can’t frankly for the life of me remember his name. I have heard a rumor that said actor lives in Florida at an airpark with his own BE 7 or 0 or 7, I don’t know what that is. There would be three people flying with me that day, Sean, the client whom asked for this favor, Michael and his girlfriend, I will call her Carrie. As I was giving the pre-flight briefing, I was looking at Carrie, because She’s So Lovely and I incorrectly assumed was the weakest link. I wanted a Prefect flight, and of course Staying Alive was the ultimate goal. I told them we would be flying a Thin Red Line of maneuvers that they should feel comfortable with before we moved on to Grease some of the Mad City maneuvers a MD 500 could perform. Michael stepped in front of Carrie as I was speaking and said “I don’t care how she feels I want to do everything this machine can do�. I thought, “what an Urban Cowboy�. Then he told me some Pulp Fiction that his brother in-law was pilot and that he was practically a pilot with all the flying he had done with him.. The Experts, without qualifications, warnings #1-5. I thought he would Be Cool airborne. I strapped each in their seat, the couple in the rear seats. We all looked like The Boy in the Plastic Bubble, within the egg shape of this helicopter. I mounted the pilot’s seat and went through the White Man’s Burden of pre-flight checks, and getting the fires started. The entire time I was going through the start Phenomenon, there was constant chatter over the intercom. There were screeches of delight as I pulled some torque and pushed left cyclic to roll on the left skid (American helicopters hang left skid low), a little more torque and we smoothly lifted off the pad did a quarter right peddle turn, deck angle changed as we went from hover to forward flight. I departed the airport this morning a straight line for five miles before a downwind turn at twenty degrees bank. The chatter over the intercom had stopped and I thought all were enjoying the Primary Colors of the fall morning. Soon I heard over the intercom, “dude�. “Yes�, I responded. “I don’t feel good,“ Michael strained to say like he was speaking through The Devil’s Rain. So I asked, “do you want to return to the airport and just no more turns?� “I want to return now.� So I did a even more gentle turn back to airport and called for landing clearance. Just before crossing two active runways the tower asked for a quick s-turn for separation, and I gently placed bird on pad with no hover, I flew this bird everyday. I rolled throttle to idle and announced that there was a 2 minute turbine cool down and I would like everyone to stay in the aircraft until rotors stopped, unless they were going to Blow Out their guts. Back door popped open in a Bolt I heard my thousand dollar Bose headset hit the side of the helicopter and watched as Michael walked out on the active taxiway (he was practically a pilot), and puke his Face Off. It was like he had gotten a Fever, Saturday Night. Tower called and asked what I did to him as he was throwing up Chains of Gold and to get him off the taxiway. When this flight was arranged the day before I was asked what they should eat before flying and as always my answer was Bananas. They taste about the same going down as they do coming up. Welcome to Hollywood, I guess Michael thought breakfast burrito’s would look better for the Savages and Wild Hogs that would clean the mess. Total flight time, exclusive of startup and shutdown, 8 minutes.