Don and I were headed to El Paso to help State National Bank install some new banking and operating system software on their mainframe computer. I would return to Lubbock alone on Monday.
About 30 minutes out of Lubbock, the sun set off to the west as approached the mountains of New Mexico. I flew the plane continuously because it had no autopilot but it did have the Mooney wing-leveler that made long flights a little more comfortable. The engine was purring, fuel was fine, Don and I ate our snacks and we talked about our plans for the weekend.
Soon the sky was pitch black, stars were visible off to the west but to the east, a full moon reflected off of my left wing. A beautiful night for flying--smooth, clear, and, so black outside that we could see towns 50 miles away. Actually, there aren't many towns in southeast New Mexico.
Blink! Every light in the cockpit went out. Crap! (Aviator term--you wouldn't understand.) I got my flashlight and, Don and I, working together, checked all the circuit breakers. Looked good. We pulled the POH (Pilot Operating Handbook) and studied that but no joy--the lights stayed off. I told Albuquerque Center that we had lost our panel lights, were working on the problem and would be continuing on. While I held the plane level, Don scrounged around and came up with two more flashlights--all were bright and all obviously had good batteries.
I could fly the plane with one hand while holding the flashlight in the other hand, but, when we got to El Paso, flying the approach and landing the plane would be a little tough with only one hand. So, I taught Don some pilot stuff--when I say airspeed, point the flashlight here, altitude--here, HSI--here, comm radio--here, gear handle--here, etc. He practiced with one flashlight so that we would always have two flashlights for backup.
Within an hour, the lights of El Paso hove into view and we began our descent. Don was an expert--with a flashlight in each hand and one in his mouth, he responded like an orchestra leader to my every command. The plane flew perfectly, the landing pattern was easy, I flew a right base for runway 4, Don found the altimeter and airspeed indicators exactly when I needed him to, and, the tower assured us that we had external lights and a landing light. Nice.
The landing was smooth, and, on the ground and parked, I asked the FBO (Fixed Base Operator) to check the plane tomorrow and I told them that I would be leaving the airport for Lubbock on Monday afternoon. We cleared the plane of baggage and clothes and made a mental note to buy some extra batteries before my next flight.
-----
Now the 'dumber than dirt' part of this story
Don's girlfriend, with her friend were waiting to pick us up. We packed the car trunk with our stuff, Don and Julie got in back and I sat in front as we headed for dinner at Don's favorite El Paso restaurant. Speeding west on the I-10 freeway, driving an unfamiliar car, managing the nighttime traffic and hearing driving directions from two people in the back seat was tough enough for our driver to handle, so, she asked me to get her cigarettes out of her purse and light one for her. That sounded easy enough.
I groped through her purse, found her cigarettes, put one in my mouth like I had seen people do it on TV, found her lighter and sparked a flame. I held the flame to the end of the cigarette and watched it. I killed the flame, took the cigarette out and looked at the tip--no fire. So, I tried it again. In the mouth, lighter lit, flame to tip and watch. The driver looked over at me, let her building (or, "built") frustration escape and said in a pretty loud voice, "You're supposed to suck on it stupid! Gimme that cigarette!" Before she finished her sentence, and before I could move a muscle, the cigarette was out of my mouth and in hers. I tried to light it for her, but she thought better, and, amazingly, the lighter magically moved from my hand to hers. I watched her light the cigarette thinking there could be a lesson here.
She wasn't through. After two awesome body-expanding drags, she asked, "Don, where did you get this imbecile? Hell [and, I'm quoting here: author] he can't even light a cigarette. Can anyone be so stupid?" (I assumed those questions were rhetorical and didn't bother to answer.)
It's been many years since this event took place in El Paso, but, I'm pretty sure that her sharing opportunity ended pretty soon after that second "stupid." The subject did not come up during dinner but I could see very clearly that what's her name and I weren't hitting it off as Don and I had hoped.
-----
At the office in El Paso that weekend, Don must have been starved for good stories to tell because he made sure that everybody got a good laugh about the "Richard is too stupid to smoke cigarettes" story. Don did such a bang up good job of sharing that story that, when I arrived at my Lubbock office the next Tuesday, the "Richard is too stupid to smoke cigarettes" story was already there.
Epilogue
Don married his girlfriend and they moved to Albuquerque.
In August of 1973, I moved to El Paso and became manager of State National Bank's Data Processing (Computer Information Systems) Department. I never saw Ms What's Her Name again, but, if I do, I can light her cigarette--I've watched the YouTube video three times.
No comments:
Post a Comment