The Airplane Laughed

THE AIRPLANE LAUGHED

by Bill Howard - to my son John and my dad

The Airplane laughed, as I walked up to it. I knew it was ready, rocking impatiently on its wheels in time to the breeze blowing out of the south, the direction we had to go. I looked that way, and saw the black, the black that says danger and fear. I felt the fear, but the airplane said, "Let’s go - I’ll show you!"

Master switch on, Fuel Pump, prime, CLEAR, start. The Airplane began humming contentedly. We waddled slowly down the lane to the highway, where the blasts of other planes clearing their throats has loosened the bits of rock and left the surface rough. The tires rumbled, and then it was our turn: Strobes on, transponder on. The Airplane said "Growl - I’m ready NOW!"

The runway seemed to lead us directly into the dark, the swirling clouds weighed down by tons of water, seeming to droop down to the ground. I felt the controls tighten as the Airplane gathered itself to leap up high; my throat tightened, too. Then we were off and climbing - so light this late afternoon, not weighed down with others wanting to share the air with us - the Airplane and I - now alone facing the dark. But the Airplane laughed, shouting, "Hurrah! I’m flying, I’m free!"

As we climbed, ever nearer the dark, the Airplane shook its head left and right, feeling the gusts blowing our way, and it said, "Not that way, let’s go home." I asked the radar-man, ‘Can I turn now?’ He said, ‘Why not?’ and so I turned the Airplane away from the dark, turning EAST - toward home.

The sun shone low behind us, lighting the ground below us with bright greens, shiny blues, the gray of the mountains in front hidden by the dark - and we climbed. Higher, and higher skirting the dark, so close on the right. The Airplane rocked its wings, as if to wave at the dark and it climbed - as if it could climb into space. Up and up, 4,000, 5,000, 6,000 the little needle wound slowly around, chased by the big needle’s insistent whorl.

The Airplane sang its song of power! All those below, pressed down to the earth by the weight of the water, saw only the dark foundation from below: but as we climbed, the foundation changed! Finally, the sun won out over the dark, and shown the dark’s true form in glistening white - columns, tall, round, reaching from the wet land below up into the blue above, shining in the sun. The Airplane and I climbed ever higher, weaving in and around the columns, like angels in a beautiful cathedral flying up toward a brilliant blue ceiling! We BOTH laughed - what a shame for others not to see this splendor!

Seven thousand, 8,000, 9,000, 10,000, 11,000, 12,000, 13,000 - the Airplane seemed not to notice the miles we had vaulted, until the columns were thinned out, fewer and farther apart, as if someone was plucking flowers in a field - ‘She Loves Me, She Loves me not!’ - until our way home was open.

The Airplane and I turned more easterly, now past the cathedral columns back-lit by the golden setting sun trying to find a way to shine through. The Airplane laughed and said, "I told you!" and I said, "I know."

But the dark had one last trick. Ahead, above the saw-toothed mountains, the dark was trying to escape from the sun, to roll over into the dry land country. To the Airplane and I, the dark looked like a deep, gray wave, forever breaking on the rugged, tree-covered land below. It seemed we should just hang-10, like surfers, and ride the wave home, but we both knew that no sun-warmed waters lay ahead; this was the cold world of the sky, where water is too cold to surf on, and a warm airplane is just the thing for the cold water to ride. The Airplane and I got ready for the sudden plunge ahead.

Pitot heat on, defrosters on, heat on, lights on, instruments on full bright, I told the Airplane - the Airplane laughed and pounded out its song, saying, "You know its just a quick splash! I can take it!" I watched the wave come nearer, amazed that the dark seemed to be pushing itself over the mountains, not dragged by the wind, at all.

Then we reached it - the dark clasped us as if we were a fire-fly swallowed up in some small child’s hands. But hands would have been warm, and the dark was COLD! The Airplane shuddered slightly, as if feeling the cold now. And the dark drew its blanket over us - a white, filmy veil, like frosting - clinging to the wing, the strut, the windshield. I watched the instruments - Level, on course, level, on course. The Airplane shivered, as if to say, "Cold, so cold."

The white frosting slowly thickened, but the Airplane pretended not to notice, but I noticed! Then, suddenly, POP! we jumped clear of the wave, like a dolphin jumping up into the sky! Except, we didn’t fall! The Airplane laughed, saying, "That was nothing! I knew we’d be OK!"

We flew on into the late afternoon dusk, the white frosting melting quickly, then almost forgotten. We saw the first signs of the dry land below ; more waves - but brown, not gray - never moving but always changing: tan, light brown, golden, dark brown, black, then brown again. The lines of the infinite checkerboard wandered crazily east, west, north, south. The Airplane laughed as if to say, "Look, there’s the way home!" and soon we turned more south, crossing the deep gash of the river, seeing the almost black water topped with more white frosting on the tips of the waves. Then the bare hills, worn smooth on one side, but cut deep by ancient water-gushes on the other. We leaped over them all - never hindered.

Then the river appeared again, its wandering path bounded by sand and cliffs, and watched over by silent strange domed buildings. The brown squares below became more and more often speared by circles of green - miracles in the desert - dry, round monuments to men obsessed with making the water move to their will. Oh, if they could only have seen their work from the clear heights we walked now!

Now we found more brown waves to cross, another broad river, pooled by huge dams, like tiny toys from here! Then mountains beckoned ahead, blue, tipped with white, bending around to form arms welcoming us. The Airplane laughed and said "HOME!" I asked the radar-man for lower, the Airplane quieted its deep growl, becoming to softly hum - it said "Down, Down now." The brown waves reached up for the white wings, the blue body. We came closer. The sun’s last rays outlined the huge teeth behind us, Jefferson, Hood, Adams, Rainier, Baker.

Ahead, the lights began to twinkle down in the valley behind one last crashing wave of brown. The light of home blinked ahead: Green, white, green, white - welcome home! The Airplane slowed, and hummed quietly, as we swung around toward the white line drawn so straight on the ground, trimmed by beautiful blue lights. "HUM, HUM, closer, there soon!" the Airplane whispered, now teasing me with twitches left and right, watching to see if I was awake.

Then, so suddenly, the line became a wide walkway, and we settle down to its near edge, crossing the curb, past the house number ‘20.’ Then, I coaxed the Airplane’s nose up toward the sky one last time, holding it there with gentle tugs, until a high little voice began to bleat, "STALL" so insistently. But all was well, and the tires rumbled again as we slowed down, the wings relaxed after carrying us so far, so high.

We slowed, and swung off the sidewalk onto the ramp full of brothers, each gently rocking, waiting their turn. Then, the Airplane laughed and said "That was EASY!" and we coasted softly to a halt, the engine barely humming, sleepy now. I said ‘thanks’ to the Airplane, and then pulled the red knob - the Airplane closed its eyes and quietly drifted off to sleep - with one last little shudder.

All the busy-work putting the Airplane to sleep needed to be done - papers, times, fuel, chocks, tiedowns, locks, straps, and gathering up all the stuff to take home - maps, headsets, then closing the door. At last I finished. I walked away a few steps, and turned to look - the Airplane seemed to sit up so straight, even in its sleep, proud, strong, broad-shouldered, READY. I turned away, a walker again, a part of the ground.

As I drew away from the Airplane, I could hear other sounds: echoes of mighty engines and the excited voices of pilots from the past and future, and then all was quiet again; just the sounds of my shoes dragging slowly across the dry concrete. But then I heard one more echo, one more voice: the Airplane Laughed.

©Bill Howard, Walla Walla WA 1995