In which my life remains reassuringly surreal
On Friday I flew a military jet, which is not something I expected to say, well, ever, really. Uh. Caveats. First, "military"; it was an L-39 Albatros , widely used as a trainer jet, although "it has also flown combat missions in a light-attack role," so. Second, "flew"; I only took the stick for a few aileron rolls and sharp (~4 G ) turns. The actual pilot, "Sticky," a former Thunderbird and current precision-jet-team air-show pilot on the Patriots Jet Team , controlled throttle and rudder the whole time. But still. I was six thousand feet up in the sky, moving at circa 500 km/h, in control of a small and highly maneuverable jet plane. It was exhilirating. It was adrenalinizing. It was also hard on my gut, in a cumulative way, and I very nearly vomited as we finally banked to land; but even if I had, it would have been so worth it. (Doing so is apparently not uncommon. After the formal briefing from Sticky, "Fidel" -- the actual owne