Oh, about 25 years ago. It was a very windy day, and the little Cessna was heading into the wind. The pilot was an old WW2 Navy trainer, so he knew how to fly. He took the nose up. I mean he took it UP!. Scared hell outta me. Anyway, that fella died trying to land his plane some years later, and took 4 passengers with him.
(Folks, I don’t understand why she’s asking what an aircraft is. The word has existed for just over 100 years, it’s quite a commonly-used word, and even people of average or less than average knowledge of general facts know what it means. I can’t fathom why it’s a mystery to her. I’m confused still.)
Prior to Europe I had travelled in South East Asia and the Pacific a little.
My last flight was as a passenger, 1982. It was when I returned home after five years abroad studying sculpture: - four and a half months in Paris with Mademoisessle Moquot, an official sculptor for the French government, statues, busts, commemorative plaques and medallions, C19th classical techniques, marquette making, modelling and bas relief - four years BA Hons at St Martin's School of Art, under the wong of London Uni, Abstract Constructivism, wood carving and construction, welding in steel Hons thesis researched in the School of Oriental and African Studies - the remainder travelling around art galleries in Europe, inc Spain, Catalonia, Italy, Sicily, Greece, France, Belgium, Holland and Denmark.
Much of the time away I didn't enjoy. - Part of it was poverty. England and Northern Europe are miserably wet and cold. - Part of it was strange men in public places. There was not one trip on foot or by Underground train when I wasn't sexually hassled at least once. The frequency created chronic fear of the commutes between home, art school, library, work, and shopping for food. On a couple of occasions I just barely managed to escape. On a third, I was assaulted and left with permanent psychological wounds. There was nothing about me that made me a special mark for attack. What I later learned was that every women between 15 and 30 in the largest English and European cities experience that sort of treatment. Until the 3rd wave of feminism in the "80's they remained silent about it because the police only ever made things worse. - Part of it was my poor "choices" in the two successive relationships with men. I was heavily co-dependent in those days (still have the tendencies) - I felt unlovable, that I had no chance at relationship unless I was needed. So I fell into shacking up with any man who showed a serious interest - and they were only ever highly dysfunctional men. The first was an illegal immigrant who was a jazz photographer and going blind - unable to continue his work, too old to retrain for another job (25 years older than me), and unwilling to get help for his eyes for fear of being caught as an illegal. After that affair ended, the next was a guy from my class at the art school. Turned out he was addicted to an ounce of Nepalese Temple Ball per week and had high functioning Aspergers and severe dyslexia - couldn't read or write. I regret to say, I wrote his thesis for him - research, thinking, writing, the whole dame lot. Misguided in the extreme - seemed harmless at the time. It was only much later that I realised the potential consequences for others if a person hasn't earned their qualifications. Both relationships were miserable in different ways. - The biggest part of it was my tendency to depression. At 21, I tried to kill myself. I was thrown into a psych ward and kept there until they judged me no longer a threat to myself. Throughout my life since then, there have been many times when I wished I had succeeded. It took me another thirty years to learn how to overcome depression. Some of the therapies helped a little.
After returning from abroad, I felt I'd had enough of travelling.
These days, my old wounds have mostly healed. I can say that I love life now, my own and the life of the planet. Despite its terrible sadnesses. I feel I could travel again if I could afford it. Part of me would love to see the whole world, by sailboat, bicycle, on foot or on horseback before climate change kills it all. But I wouldn't fly. I wouldn't pour those foul greenhouse gases into the sky.
This post was edited by inky at January 5, 2020 8:47 AM MST
Wow! I never guessed. Here in Australia, 'spunk' means sperm, and 'spunky' means an attractive and sexually active man. So I'd always guessed that your avatar indicated a grey-haired American man who was on the lookout for sex or affairs, or maybe just having a joke about his age. Thank you. I genuinely appreciate it when someone corrects my mistakes.
B.H.Wilson 