Almost everybody knows that, if humans were meant to fly, wewould be born with wings. Or maybe propellers.
But after being invited to trip the sky fantastic with Air andWater Show stunt pilot Julie Clark, a sprightly, beautiful blond elf,I got to thinking maybe the fact that we can build machinescontaining those parts makes it OK.
When she plays thrill shows like the one Chicago is host to thisweekend, Julie drops her 5-foot-3-inch frame into the front seat ofan airplane named Wally and flies a graceful, soaring aerobaticballet with the vast, blue sky as her stage. She flies it to musicand does her own choreography.
Still, one hesitates entrusting one's carcass to the care ofsome barnstorming loon.
The only thing light about Julie Clark turns out to be herweight, 112. She is a working captain for Northwest Airlines, hasqualified in more than 60 types of aircraft and logged more than12,000 flying hours without an accident. Julie, crew chief LarryLittlepage and narrator John Williams comprise American Aerobatics ofCameron Park, Calif. It's a hobby for Julie and Williams, a pilot,accountant and her boyfriend since December.
Moreover, she only calls the plane Wally because she thought theT-34 World War II trainer 'had a face that looked like a Wally' whenshe picked it up for $18,000 at a government surplus sale in 1977.
The name lettered on the nose is Free Spirit, which, she begancarefully explaining 'stands for freedom of spirit,' after spectatorsat a California air show wondered if Free Spirit meant she was 'ahippie and smoked grass.'
She even painted the tandem-seat aircraft to match thepresidential jet Air Force One, and met President Reagan July 4,1982, after he saw the two planes together. Wally's other name isAir Force One-Half.
Well, why not fly a few tight formations around the Sears Towerwith Julie and Chuck Lischer's three-man Team America stunt group atthe air show rehearsal Friday afternoon?
I like a little excitement, though I confess to being the kindof dad who was not disappointed when our youngest child maturedenough to prefer people his own age for company on roller coasters.
I popped a motion sickness pill and headed for Meigs Field.
Before taking off, we had to wait for the rehearsal to end, thenthe press interviews and through yet another delay while Julie andChuck worked out patterns we would fly.
At length, they got me tightly strapped into the rear seat, justin front of Charlie Lindbear, a stuffed bruin mascot 'with velcro onhis buns.' The cockpit - about as much room as a sports car - was hotand stuffy with the plastic canopy closed.
You could tell it was going to be all business when you spottedthe small, black warning sign on the instrument panel (dashboard?).It said: 'Please refrain from kissing the pilot during snap rolls.'
Takeoff was smooth. We climbed sharply toward the Sears Towerand soon were joined by the other planes. Swoop and twirl, bank anddive, the skyline spun behind us with two Team America planes at ourelbows. The thrill was there.
But so was something else - queasiness. I felt a little green,then a lot.
Mr. Caution had neglected to note how much time passed since Itook the motion sickness pill. It had worn off. Only the fact thatI didn't eat before the flight saved Wally from a nasty splashing.
