Can Open...Worms Everywhere....: Look Ma, No engine!! - 23 days to 35

As a kid I wanted to be a bunch of different things. When I was about 4 I just KNEW I was going to be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader (cut me some slack, I was a child). Then I wanted to be a teacher, a cop, a lawyer. And after watching Top Gun I wanted to be a pilot (yes, I let Tom Cruise influence my life choices). Beyond the day dreams of watching hot oiled men play volleyball on our off days, the thought of flying appealed to me for so many reasons. I loved the idea of the freedom of floating high above everything. I mean, who DOESN'T want to fly right? So when coming up with my list of 35 things, I wanted to put some sort of flying experience on the list. My choices: skydiving (which I would REALLY like to do but honestly, am not sure I would be able to actually step out of the plane and jump), helicopter rider (which carries with it the distinct possibility of making me airsick given how choppy the rides are), and a glider ride (fun. adventurous, and which carries the added benefit of being available like 5 miles from the house). As I weighed the options, the glider ride sounded better and better. I called to make my appointment, not really knowing what I was getting myself into but seriously excited. Seriously.

On Saturday afternoon, we drove to the Santa Ynez Gliderport and pulling up, I started to get a little nervous. First off, the "gliderport" consisted of a small, shack-like building. Not exactly the fancy digs I was expecting, although, I didn't really know what to expect.

We get out of the car and look around. And I see, up close and personal, my fist glider. I am struck by the wing span of the tiny plane. Very. Tiny. Plane. We aren’t supposed to walk out to the airfield until it’s my turn to fly so I strain to see, trying to get an idea of exactly how much space is inside that thing. I watch the guy before peel himself out of it and conclude that it’s pretty tight quarters. (I'm 5'10", there isn’t enough leg room for me in coach on a regular flight. I was starting to think that this might get a little uncomfortable). It is while examining the little glider that it first hits me: this plane has no engine. NO ENGINE!! I mean, I think I knew that somewhere in my head (that's why it's called a glider, right). But it starts to hit me that I will be floating several THOUSAND feet above the ground without power to help out if the wind decides to send us into a nose dive. You would think that this realization would make me sacred, nervous even. Not so much. My dumb ass just got more excited. Talk about a rush!!

The 30 minutes before my flight, as I watch a guy and his girlfriend take their turns, seemed to take forever. Just get me in the air already!! At last it was my turn. I follow Shawn, the gliderport assistant, out to the plane. He says "You are between 115 and 235 pounds, right?" Laughing, I say "No, don’t I look like I'm 110?" But I am guessing this is the wrong situation in which to lie about your weight. (I was actually faced with a similar situation when I went bungee jumping. When your life depends on a rubber band, probably important to not let vanity take over!) Confident that I am within the weight limits, Shawn begins to explain how everything works. I will get aboard the glider with my pilot, Gary (I get to sit in the front...AWESOME!) We will be pulled up to our gliding altitude of about 3200 feet by another small plane, and then I - yes I - get to pull the cord. Anticipation fills my chest....I can’t believe I am really going to do this! I climb in and Shawn straps the very complicated safety harness around my body. (I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing...I want to be strapped in nice and tight, but if we start to take a tumble and I decide to jump for it, I won’t be able to get out!! Ok, I need to stop thinking like this!)

I hear the engine of out tug plane start. THIS IS IT! The glider begins to rumble across the grass and onto the runway. I can tell we are picking up speed. As I look around, anxious not to miss the moment we leave the ground, Gary the pilot says "We're up!" Holy crap! This feels great. We ascend slowly as I crane my neck every which way trying to take in the view. The mountains are in front of us and the Santa Ynez Valley spreads below. It is an unbelievably beautiful sight! I totally got my money's worth and we've barely been in the air for 2 minutes. From behind me I hear instructions, "You see that yellow t-bar in front of you? Go ahead and pull it." The moment of truth...I pull the bar and suddenly...silence. Blissful, peaceful, floating silence. I feel like a paper airplane, not the crappy ones that you throw up and they immediately nose dive (like the ones I made), but like the one that cool guy in grade school would make that could soar smoothly across the classroom (before hitting the nerdy kid in the head). The sensation was exactly what I imagined flying would feel like. Amazing! "You wanna fly it?" Gary asks. Do I? DO I?? Abso-friggin-lutely I wanna fly this thing!! He guides me through taking the controls and making a left hand, then a right hand turn. Dude! I'm doing it!! I'm a pilot!!

My 15 minutes is up way too soon and we make our descent. I can’t control the smile on my face! The funniest part is that at no point while up there, 3200 feet going 40 miles an hour, did it ever occur to me that there was no engine. NO ENGINE!! I'm such a crazy dumbass!! But, feeling the exhilaration beating in my chest and the smile splitting my face, I realize, I am a HAPPY crazy dumbass!!