"First Flight" By: Tearsa Joy Hammock

An amoeba tickles the inside of my stomach with tentacle-like fingers the entire drive to Hollister Airport. I had flown on planes dozens of times as a passenger, but never as the pilot in training. Margaret Watt, my flight instructor, is cool and knowledgeable of her skill with an adventurous and optimistic spirit.

After the Korean war, my grandmother, Mimi, had learned to fly planes. Now it was my turn. As I wave to her and turn toward the Cessna before me in all it’s glory, I wonder how much I’m going to enjoy my own experience.

Margaret explains the ins and outs of the plane, descriptions and uses, as well as a brief history of her beloved aircraft. I’m too giddy and try to remember everything, but only can recount which side of the wing has a green light and which has the red and few other random details.

From taxiing to takeoff seems like only a split second and forever at the same time. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” is all I can say into the radio as my swift but seemingly slow motion euphoric ascension begins. I did it! I think to myself with the pride of Rosie the Riveter. Margaret just smiles with a wink in her eye.

Once in air, my body and mind is flooded bliss. My suspended environment is other planetary yet so natural to me. I forget the metal enclosure surrounding me and my instructor beside me for a moment. I am floating in mid air.
I am amazed that without having any gas pedal to press I remain static in the air!

“Okay, we are gonna try some standard rate turns” Margaret brings me out of my daydream. I gain alertness and grip my controls. With meticulous beginner’s effort I ensure that the wings dip at the correct angle and flow into my in flight “donuts.”

Of course I am nervous that I am not doing something just right, but Margaret assures me I am doing excellent. I try right and left direction circles in air and even push my angles a little further than a standard rate turn.

Of all misfortunes, I realize I have to pee... badly. Now the sky has become my natural environment and to ascend makes me feel like a fish out of water. Though, I wish I could stay in flight all day, lack of endless fuel and my necessity do not permit.

I take in one more view of my euphoria. Aware of breathtaking blue sky, cotton clouds, and green and brown ant size surroundings more so than my controls, I let the plane dip down suddenly. I gasp! Margaret is cool of course and gains control.

She says it’s no problem. But I feel the amoeba rise up in my stomach again only this time with a sickening urgency.

I enjoyed takeoff, but I give up all controls to Margaret and instruct her to go ahead and land the plane.

I wish I could concentrate but I lose all focus. My body cannot decide which most embarrassing function it wants to force me to do next: urinate or vomit!
For a minute I pray to all deities that I do neither, at least until we are on the ground.

Finally, we land. The mini-jolt does me in. My grandma watches some distance away as I open the window and my red and white polka dotted headwrap pops out. I open my mouth and baptize the side of the Sparrowhawk.

Over apologetic and embarrassed, I thank Margaret for the towel and instruction. I make a quick exit to the ladies room with tail between the legs but my head still in the clouds.

I guess pride and humiliation fly together sometimes.

As much I want to forget the humbling part, I will always recall the euphoric ascension and the moment time stood still captivating me in bliss.