Showing posts with label Flying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flying. Show all posts
Thursday, March 16, 2023
Fording Mount Doom
Friday, August 16, 2019
Earl of Green Gables, Day 15: The Voyage Home
Gonna share my trip photos with my friends
That's what I'll do when we're home again
Saturday, June 22, 2019
A Short History of Transair by The View from Seven
Way back in the early 1970s, I flew for the first time. Mom will have to correct my memory, but I believe we flew from Winnipeg to Thompson on a Transair 707, then from Thompson to Leaf Rapids on a much smaller propeller-driven plane.
At least I think that's how it happened. I remember Mom bought me an inflatable Transair jet, which some time later shifted in the closet while I was sleeping and terrified me, causing me to bolt downstairs in a flash into the arms of my parents because I thought it was a monster.
Transair was a short-lived Winnipeg-based airline with a brown and yellow paint scheme--very 1970s. I'm not sure why I was thinking about it today, but to my delight someone's actually written a capsule history of the airline. If you're interested in flying or Manitoba history, read about Transair here.
At least I think that's how it happened. I remember Mom bought me an inflatable Transair jet, which some time later shifted in the closet while I was sleeping and terrified me, causing me to bolt downstairs in a flash into the arms of my parents because I thought it was a monster.
Transair was a short-lived Winnipeg-based airline with a brown and yellow paint scheme--very 1970s. I'm not sure why I was thinking about it today, but to my delight someone's actually written a capsule history of the airline. If you're interested in flying or Manitoba history, read about Transair here.
Wednesday, January 02, 2019
A Pair of Dreams
I'm in Vancouver, and Melissa Benoist, in costume as Supergirl, surprises me downtown by wrapping one arm around my shoulder, holding out her phone, and snapping a photo.
"Super selfie!" she says, grinning. "Hey, you should be on the show. You'd make a great Harvey Bullock."
I have to admit that of all DC's character's, my current rotund physique most closely matches that of Bullock. I'm a little confused, though; in the comics, Harvey Bullock is a detective working for the Gotham City Police Department. But I rationalize this by figuring Supergirl's writers have perhaps had Bullock transfer over to National City. In any event, the pay is $2000 a week and I get to be part of the Arrowverse, so I take the job.
* * *
It's 4 AM and Sylvia wakes me up. We're in our old condo. She reminds me that Sean, Mike and Scott are coming over for McDonald's. Sean has already arrived on the balcony on a rented bicycle glider, but I haven't actually picked up the food.
I join Sean on the balcony and we launch the glider, pedalling back offshore to Sean's yacht, picking up our McDonald's order, and cycle-gliding back to the condo. Scott and Mike arrive and we eat in the darkness, four identical orders: Big Mac combos, medium fries, medium Cokes. Mike notes with some disdain that there's a triangle of toast in his Big Mac. I check and see that my Big Mac also includes a slice of toast.
"Well, it's a bonus, I guess," I say, eating the toast.
Everything is so real as to be more convincing than true reality. Not for a second do I question the bicycle-gliders, Sean's yacht, or the fact that Sylvia and I have moved back into our first condo. The only thing I question is why I arranged for a McDonald's dinner at 4:45 AM.
Flying on the cycle-gliders is effortless and exhilarating. After supper, I fly over the beaches of Hawaii, shooting photos for Google Maps as I ride the wind. Turquoise waters lap at white sand, and the sun beams down benignly. All is good, but a voice at the back of my mind questions my sanity, and it is that voice that brings me back to reality, awakening with my alarm.
"Super selfie!" she says, grinning. "Hey, you should be on the show. You'd make a great Harvey Bullock."
I have to admit that of all DC's character's, my current rotund physique most closely matches that of Bullock. I'm a little confused, though; in the comics, Harvey Bullock is a detective working for the Gotham City Police Department. But I rationalize this by figuring Supergirl's writers have perhaps had Bullock transfer over to National City. In any event, the pay is $2000 a week and I get to be part of the Arrowverse, so I take the job.
* * *
It's 4 AM and Sylvia wakes me up. We're in our old condo. She reminds me that Sean, Mike and Scott are coming over for McDonald's. Sean has already arrived on the balcony on a rented bicycle glider, but I haven't actually picked up the food.
I join Sean on the balcony and we launch the glider, pedalling back offshore to Sean's yacht, picking up our McDonald's order, and cycle-gliding back to the condo. Scott and Mike arrive and we eat in the darkness, four identical orders: Big Mac combos, medium fries, medium Cokes. Mike notes with some disdain that there's a triangle of toast in his Big Mac. I check and see that my Big Mac also includes a slice of toast.
"Well, it's a bonus, I guess," I say, eating the toast.
Everything is so real as to be more convincing than true reality. Not for a second do I question the bicycle-gliders, Sean's yacht, or the fact that Sylvia and I have moved back into our first condo. The only thing I question is why I arranged for a McDonald's dinner at 4:45 AM.
Flying on the cycle-gliders is effortless and exhilarating. After supper, I fly over the beaches of Hawaii, shooting photos for Google Maps as I ride the wind. Turquoise waters lap at white sand, and the sun beams down benignly. All is good, but a voice at the back of my mind questions my sanity, and it is that voice that brings me back to reality, awakening with my alarm.
Sunday, November 05, 2017
Sunrise at the Edmonton Flying Club
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