I’m sure that it comes as no surprise that I’m not really into planes, or flight, or risk-taking of any kind. So when Dmitri mentioned–over drinks on our first date nearly five years ago–that he had plans to become a Naval aviator, I was a little disappointed. And although I’m sure that I nodded politely and congratulated his ambition, I knew without question that we wouldn’t be going out again.
Except that we did.
Which is why we have a Lily, and a Charlotte, and a temporary Navy-issued townhouse in south Texas– and, in a roundabout way, why the four of us found ourselves standing in the backyard yesterday afternoon, listening to the roar of jet engines and shouts from the neighborhood kids chasing the Blue Angels–in town to commemorate the centennial of Naval aviation– on their bikes.
And when one of those phenomenally fast jets did a speedy low pass thisclose to our house, I did not think: that is not safe.
Instead, I thought: this is amazing.
All of this is amazing. And while the dangers, both real and imagined, mean that I still spend some days white-knuckling my way through Dmitri’s flights, I am learning that some things– like planes that effortlessly break the sound barrier and really nice guys with very big dreams–are more than worth the risk.