Last Wednesday, I went flying in a helicopter for my birthday. I always wanted to learn to fly, so I signed up for an introductory helicopter piloting lesson to celebrate the big day.
It was a blast! We went up in a Robinson 22 and flew around the countryside north of Boston. The helicopter was tiny and it felt like we were strapping it on. The weather was perfect: Hot and sunny. We flew with the doors removed and were comfortable in shirtsleeves.
We buzzed along like a giant dragon-fly. We even hovered over a swamp, albeit at a couple of thousand feet. The view was just 360 degrees of wonderful. And though it might sound like a cliché, the feeling of actually being able to go wherever you wanted was intoxicating. Looking down at the ribbon of Route 95 disappearing into the distance in both directions, you couldn’t help noticing the tiny cars and trucks whizzing along. Even the tractor-trailers looked micro. Not like ants. Beetles maybe.
Later that evening, after a surprise birthday dinner organized by my wife, I was returning home on the same highway after dropping a friend off. It was late and I was happily lost in thought. A silver car, bright and shiny in my headlights, flicked on its yellow directional to signal to me it was changing lanes. I thought about how primitive yet effective it was to signal simply by using lights. The silver car was like a big lightning-bug racing through the dark countryside on a summer night. We all were.
I wished I were flying a helicopter. I would have been home sooner.
copyright 2013 Magnus Incognito