Nearly Retired Posted September 29, 2013 Report Share Posted September 29, 2013 So, my friend Mikey was coming over from Seattle to visit for the weekend, flying across in a Bell 206B that he'd be doing some sling work in on Monday. Instead of coming up to Brewster, he terminated at the airport in Wenatchee (KEAT) which is just down the river a bit from us. I drove down to pick him up. No sooner do I get there, but I see a red Robinson R-44 on the ramp! The pilot is at the fence rampside, talking to a person on the outside. Mikey is also outside near the entrance to the FBO, sitting on the curb having a smoke. I stop, and as we're loading Mikey's bags in my car, the pilot of the R-44 comes through the personnel gate. We pass maybe 25 feet from each other. You know who it was I'm not sure she recognized me, although she may have. She got in a car and left. I was going to take a picture of myself twerking, Miley Cyrus-style, against the red R-44...or peeing on it maybe, but decided against it. There was drinking to do, and all that standing around was not only making us thirsty but cutting into our alcohol consumption time. But it was funny. I first, um, "encountered" the pilot of the R-44 a couple of years ago, when she posted on her blog a story about a conflict she had with some tour pilots near the Grand Canyon. The post was titled, "How To Annoy A Helicopter Pilot." It was a grand story about a bunch of immature pilots acting like, well, kids. Yes, including her. I said as much in the "Comments" section of her blog, which generated a lot of responses (mostly pro-her and anti-me) and which of course were immediately deleted (my comments, that is). Then she decided that all comments would henceforth be moderated - that is, pre-approved before publishing them. Oh well. I still make comments on her blog - you just never get to read them. Anyways, I was living in Florida at the time and she was living in Arizona. And now we end up in the same valley in Washington State, doing the same job (although I do it immeasurably better), and come within 25 feet of each other at some podunk little airport. (I still actually live in Florida, but I've been hanging around up here in Washington because: 1) my company needs the help; and 2) I don't really have anything better to do.) It's a tiny, tiny industry, eh mate? As we were driving to the liquor store, Mikey was fuming. "Dat broad in dat R-44 came in right after we landed," he groused in a New Jersey accent straight out of the TV show, "The Sopranos." And Mikey never even lived in Jersey - he's from the midwest! "She landed right behind us...real close, you know?" he said. "I mean, Christ, she had the whole ramp to land on and she had to land RIGHT BEHIND!! Whaddyagonnado about a broad like that! Fuggeddaboudit!" I laughed, said I understood, and explained that she'd kind of done that before. Then I told him about her blogpost. Some things never change. 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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