View of San Juan/Cessna 402
I always wanted to learn to fly. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with aviation, flight, and space travel. My parents encouraged my fascination – they bought me books and model airplanes, sent me off to Space Camp and one year, they even did a surprise drive-by of Cape Canaveral on our way to Fort Lauderdale for the family vacation. They loved that I had a passion for something other than Guess jeans and AquaNet, and were happy to indulge a little girl in her dreams of flying a plane. Until one day when the little girl went to see the Air Force recruiter at her high school’s career day.
All bets were off when Mom got wind of my potential enrollment in the Armed Forces. Dad figured it’s a win-win — I get to learn to fly and the Air Force pays for my education. Mom sat watching images of bombs exploding in the Persian Gulf during the first Gulf War and put her foot down. What none of us knew, however, is that this little girl wasn’t getting close to any plane. Seems at that time, girls with glasses couldn’t fly airplanes and as soon as the recruiter informed me of my fate behind a desk, maybe with a view of a F-16 in the background, I went back to filling out my college applications. Mom slept a little better that night, and Dad was back to the library looking up various grants and loans we could apply for to help pay for college. As for me, I knew one day I’d get the opportunity to fly a plane. That day still hasn’t happened but I came close… as close as one can get to the controls of a Cessna 402 without a pilot’s license.
If you’ve never flown in a Cessna, trust me when I tell you it’s an experience. Most travelers are used to the comforts of an Airbus or Boeing, but a Cessna is old-school flying at its best. While the Airbus and Boeings of our time are automated and feature luxuries like auto-pilots and lavatories, the Cessna’s run on propellers and the skilled pilots behind the controls. The Cessna 402 is a 10-seater (one seat for the pilot, nine for the passengers) and extra legroom isn’t an option. You’re usually placed in the plane based on weight and size – which can be a little self-deprecating for the self-conscience – and your flight won’t usually be more than 30-45 minutes. Use those minutes wisely, as you’ll likely never see the ground from this angle again.
You can see everything at an altitude of near 5,000-feet, including the possible crash-landing spots if you’re a morbid flier. My first trip on the Cessna was a dream – smooth skies on a sunny day. Boston, Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard were guiding our way to Nantucket and 45 minutes later, we landed safe and sound. The ride home wasn’t as easy. It was a windy day and there was a storm approaching that evening, which means the Cessna rattled all the way home. Even as a seasoned traveler, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t kiss the ground at Boston’s Logan International Airport when we landed. I threw back a scotch when I got home to calm my nerves and vowed never to do that ride again. Never say never…
The only way to get to Tortola from San Juan is courtesy of a Cessna and if I was going to make my meetings with the British Virgin Islands Board of Tourism, I was getting on the plane. A few deep breaths, one (or two or three) silent prayers and up and away we went. The views were just the same – miraculous. The sounds were exactly as I remember – noisy, but comforting knowing everything was running properly. We landed 40 minutes later and I confidently hopped off the plane ready to tackle my next adventure, and forgetting that I had to do the same ride on five days later on the return. The only difference – on the return trip, I was given the co-pilot’s seat.
Co-pilot seat/Cessna 402
It was a close as I’ve ever come to manning a plane and I was completely captivated by the bells and whistles (and 18-year-old prodigy pilot who was holding the lives of nine people in his hands). I seatbelted myself in, tugged on the belt to make sure it was secure, then took some time to admire my seat. From the compass to the fuel gauge, the plane just made sense. There was no auto-pilot, no flight attendant call button, no flashing lights or computer screens. It was an airplane the way airplanes were meant to be – the basic rules of physics apply to flying and the Cessna 402 makes it seem to simple.
I resisted the urge to grab the controls and back-seat drive (probably to the benefit of the other fliers) and just took in the scene. From the co-pilot’s seat you can see it all – the mountains, the clouds, the landscapes and the water. The plane turns right, leans left and glides toward its destination. There may be a few bumps along the way, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. If you’ve experienced any type of turbulence on a 747 (or similar) at 35,000-feet, I assure you the bumps you’ll feel in the Cessna won’t compare. For starters, you can see the land beneath you, which may seem a little daunting but it actually helps ease the anxiety, as opposed to being somewhere in the heavens on an Airbus and not knowing what you might fall over if the turbulence gets worse. Of course, you are a well-prepared flier and you know these things can’t happen, but the mind plays terrible tricks on us. The moral of the story: flying is a safe way to travel, regardless of the size of the plane.
As we glided into San Juan I was almost sad to land. I was thisclose to being the pilot I had always dreamed of and while I admit my fantasies took over during flight – the Cessna 402 was a Blue Angel and instead of flying in the BVIs, we were making figure-8s somewhere over the Grand Canyon – the end result was nothing short of a dream. For a brief moment I lived out one of my childhood fantasies – I held the controls and felt the vibrations of the engine and propellers through my fingers. I remembered what it was like to want to fly, and it reminded me why I love boarding a plane – the world, quite literally, is at your fingertips.
Safely landing in San Juan/Cessna 402
