So, in answer to Brooke's first question: On how to get DD in the air, have you tried cookies? That's always been a motivator in my book (The Book of Stag, for those unaware). I'd go with cookies first, then move to the hard candies if things get dicey.
Ah, and as to the question of me flying...oh, I would, I even had a dream about it. And while I have little time for such things these days, I'd still do it. Currently, however, all my computer related activities (which is mostly recording music) are being performed on a beefed up G4 iBook. And unless I missed something, there is no Mac version of this here flyin' thingy. If there were, I would of course play it on my laptop, using the trackpad, probably while chatting with people and making tea, if only to make everyone feel really stupid when I shoot them down.
And now, as I'm pretty bored this lonely saturday night, I'd like to reflect upon a few precious memories--
Once upon a long time ago, we had us a little group of folks that I was particularly fond of, and we had lots of fun and stuff, and had newsletters and conventions, and T-shirts, and money (which was often being rapidly depleted by that ever-so-huge corperate entity with the same initials as someone we all know). I, of course, was pretty much exactly the same as I am now, only smarter, and less published.
And so it was that I began a journey that would help shape my destiny, give me material to write about for about 10 years after. Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself, for it all started with a book.
That stupid manual that came with the online account. I still have it, I think. In the back of this little insipid wonder was a listing of the "pages" of the virtual world that was GEnie. TV Guide-esk paragraphs followed each entry, and so many things simply didn't really grab me. But one thing damn sure did. There were mentions of dog fights, and air combat, and planes...ooh, I quite liked planes, especially the sort that engaged in dog fights and air combat. "Air Warrior" I don't think I even remember caring what it was called. I got it, practiced for a week off line, then went up in my favorite plane of all time (F4U Corsair), smoked my first enemy, someone said "thanks" over the com, I said something in responce, and went and landed I think, or something, I don't know, who cares, after that I spent a month or so flying milkruns in B17s with a guy named Zero. It was 3 months till I got my first kill in a fighter. Didn't really look back from there (not true, my SA is pretty slammin'), and within 6 months or so I was pretty high in the old ELO score thingy (I was #5 for the longest time, crazy, that started around then I think.)
Now two things should be noted at this point: firstly (never use this word kids, I'm a professional), the above statements would seem to indicate I was pretty good at this stuff, but you have no idea how many hours I actually logged to get that way. (Some of you do.)
And secondly, I mentioned two awesome bands: Journey, and ELO. Rock on!
Ah, but it was all the crazy people I met along the way that made it all something worthwhile. I won't bother with names, there are so many, and I remember everyone, but don't want to type any of them. This is all about me after all. I was part of FUBAR squad, having been recruited from my first squad, The Green Weenies, of which I was the only member left, and still winning campaigns. I held off joining as long as I could, but they needed me, it's true. Could you imagine that bunch of goofballs without me, I think not. The basic mantra of FUBAR squad was "do no sanity", though in actually fact I think we chanted "No, I do not know what I'm doing way the hell over here, but I'm in a fight, be back your way in a jiff."
And we would play ring around the mountains in the pacific theater, and sometimes fly in circles following our leader, who was, in fact, following one of us. A moment springs to mind when dear MacFly was at some serious alt in a buff bearing down on C15 (I think that's right, the atoll C side strip) and I says to Hoppy, "Uh, Hop, what's Mac doing? I think he intends to bomb the runway." And we proceeded to yell over the radio for him to stop, as we had just taken it a few seconds before, and we were right pleased with ourselves. Needless to say, Mac had been taking a pee break or something and didn't hear our plaintive crys and proceded to blow the crap outa the runway leaving Hoppy and I to snicker at each other because it was just so funny. Glad we weren't paying six dollars an hour for that kinda thing to happen...
Well, for now I think I shall put this history lesson aside, as it's 1:27 in the AM, and I need to record tracks tomorrow, and the 4 days thereafter, so sleep must come sometime soonish. After I talk to Colette I think though, 'cause it's all about the ladies.
Goodnight, dear old friends of mine. May your kill ratios be high, and blah blah blah, fill in something poetic one of you, I'm tired.
