Comedian Chameleon - What were we thinking??? Part I
Comedian Chameleon - What were we thinking??? Part I
By A. Pilot
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It was in those early days, when you take any flight you can get. One of the instructors at the flight school and the oldest son had to get to Lichtenburg for a wedding. Sweet deal: I get to do some interesting hour building and two people get to a wedding for free. Win win.
After the run ups the boy in the back was already asleep and we took off from FALA 06 left with a left hand turn out, climbing to 6500' initially. The North West province was awash with isolated thunderstorms all around and we were chatting about the weather and who was getting married etc
On the descent, we noticed that one particular storm was nearing our strip at about the same relative velocity as our clapped out C172. The storm was heading straight for the far side of the tar runway 18 at FALI. If it kept its trajectory, we would arrive at the runway at the same time.
Closer and closer the curtain of rain travelled until it touched the far threshold. A few moments later and half the tar runway was invisible. I quickly repositioned for the grass runway 25 and we scattered a few guinea fowl on landing. I held the nose wheel off the ground for as long as possible, as we shook the boy in the back awake. The little C172 obediently climbed onto the tar as we arrived at the threshold at the same time as the bucketing rain. In the blink of an eye the entire airfield was now engulfed by the storm.
It was raining so hard that we could hardly make out the little apron. Two firsts in my little life: a grass landing and the slowest taxi ever. We sat in the Cessna and waited. My instructor had to shout into the cell phone, to be heard above the noise of the fat rain drops on the canopy. We stayed put in the aircraft. We would have been drenched in three seconds in this downpour.
Half an hour later a car arrived to pick them up. I said I'd stay in the aircraft and wait for their return, no worries. As per usual for people from a rural community in SA, a huge discussion ensued, where I was left with zero chance to decline a spontaneous invite to the wedding. Me: a perfect stranger, the people: the typical neighbourly and generous mielie farmers.
We drove to a farmhouse in the blinding rain. All the friendly tannies and ooms were gathered in the rustic lounge, waiting for the bride to get ready. Everyone got a very sweet Ricoffy in big mugs, including me. The next discussion ensued. Again, it was about me, with no comment required from my side. I was clearly not dressed appropriately for the wedding. I looked down at my oil-stained shirt. Well, that's what you get for pulling out the oil dipstick at ten knots crosswind, I thought.
Quickly a solution was found. One of the tannies apparently had a beautiful black shirt printed with huge red flowers which I was told to put on. I emerged from the bathroom, submerged in a woman's blouse, looking as though I had been knifed in three parts of my torso. Tact required me to thank the tannies, even though I could tell someone had worn this garment for a while, before sharing it with me. I now smelled of lavender talcum powder, if there is such a thing. Or potpourri mixed with lady's sweat.
I was uncomfortably starting to regret this mission… The next discussion ensued. Clearly my cargo pants with all the bulky side pockets, were completely inappropriate as a wedding attire as well! Still chugging down the sweet instant coffee, I was somehow back in the bathroom, changing into more neutral black Polyester pants. No pockets whatsoever. Thankfully, this previously worn garment only smelled slightly of elderly ladies' perspiration, minus the flowery smell. Most fortunate as well, the pants were very comfortable. In fact, the pants were so loose-fitting, that I had to tie a knot into the one side, and managed to hide it safely under my left armpit. Being right-handed, I thought this way I could hide the bunched-up part of the pants better, so as to finally look more wedding appropriate.
“Dear God, please don't let them notice my scuffed shoes!” I thought while getting changed.
Emerging once more from the bathroom, all the participants nodded their approval. I was glad to no longer be the centre of attention, as I tried to match my woman's blouse flowers with the blossoms and blooms of the rose print sofas. Finally, camouflaged, I felt I fit right in…
Suddenly, cups and mugs were set down, splashing sweet liquids onto the hand crocheted doilies, and everyone raced to the cars in great haste. Squashed in the middle of the rear bench of one of the Double Cab bakkies, I now was 90% certain, who had first worn the blouse before me. The tannie in the passenger seat smelled exactly like I now did.
The wedding was beautiful! People arrived, dropping their food donations for the bring 'n braai on a big table, as the impressive fire was lit. The groom was dressed to the nines in a shiny white ensemble, with a pink rhinestone pattern on the deeply plunging neckline. He looked ten times better than Elvis Presley could ever have done. Like the better-looking twin, including the long sideburns and the daring dance moves. The bride shone with love. The sparkingly shiny bridesmaids were out-twinkling each other in pink satin, that matched the applique of the groom. I blended in quite nicely, as there were red roses and other flowers everywhere. At this stage I was just trying hard to avoid being photographed, and couldn't wait for nightfall. Since I still had to fly that night, I couldn't partake in the Archer's Schnaps on the tables, but enjoyed some of the endlessly lekker, homemade food.
Eventually it was time to leave, and we were dropped off at our waiting C172. Just as I thought I had the worst of the day behind me, I realised that there were no night lights at FALI. Dubbel K, Middel A. !!!
What to do…
The kind chauffeur had left, after driving us to the strip for half an hour. We had to get back to work the next morning, early early. The air had cleared of all thunder showers and the stars were twinkling brightly. The moon was almost full…We had a severe case of “Get-Home-Avitis”.
We saw that the grass along the side of the runway stood as tall as the tallest millies. It shone a yellowy beige in the moonlight. We walked down the runway and convinced ourselves, that this grass would easily be distinguished from the dark tarred surface. We would be able to see the high grass clearly with our navigation lights on each wingtip. We could easily keep the plane in the middle of the grass on the take-off roll. All we needed to do, was to keep the aircraft on the centre line in the bright cone of the landing light, wait for the aircraft to pick up the necessary speed and simply take off. Said and done. We had a pleasant flight back to FALA.
Then life happened and we completely lost touch, maybe just hearing about each other's careers every once in a while. Years and years later, I arranged to see my colleague again for the first time, since that day. We met for lunch at Lanseria's Wiesenhof.
While driving to Lanseria, I kept on thinking: “What were we thinking!!!???” That thought was in my shaking head at every red robot.
Also: “God is with the stupid.” Just as my German grandmother had always said. Meaning that proper idiots are mostly protected from the consequences of their ignorant actions in a divine way.
As I walked onto the terrace, my partner in crime saw me, jumped up from the table for a big hug and shouted: “What were we thinking?????!!!!!
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