Saturday night, as a zydeco band strummed in the background and I was on drink number... four I think?... I asked some guy at some bar if he would give me a ride in his airplane. And he said yes. Sort of. How it came about, after the jump.
Mr. A and I spent the weekend in Wrightwood, a ski town an hour east of LA. He is an avid skiier and I can take on any bunny slope. The plan was to leave first thing Saturday and have a day on the slopes, but
1) He twisted his ankle Friday and
2) We both had work to do.
We ended up leaving in the afternoon. Once we got there, we discovered the mountain is open for night skiing. Mr. A's eyes lit up, and I told him not to worry about me. He hasn't skied in two years, he was aching to go (ankle be damned) and I could figure out something to do for three hours. (I'm not into night skiing. Brrrr.)
I sure did. The local tavern, named The Yodeler, was having a Mardi Gras celebration, so I took a seat at the bar, strung on some beads and helped myself to a Jack n Coke and mushroom pizza. Foolproof combo.
One of the locals I talked to included a man who works for an aviation museum. He restores classic WWII planes, has flown in WWII movies and air shows, and whenever he heads to Vegas for the weekend, it's in his plane. He told me how much he charges for a flight: $750.
That's when I asked.
"Would you ever take someone up, as a guest? Like, I'm not actually asking for you to take me on a flight, but would you?" (This non-question question was not strategic. It was the Jack talking.)
"If you can get the museum some publicity, write about us, I definitely can. You come out for our press day, I'll show you around and take you up for a flight."
Earlier, I had made the mistake of telling him I blog, but I didn't say exactly what about.
I'm not sure The Daily Asker is the kind of publicity he had in mind, but I kept his card. Perhaps a flight will somehow be in the works. And if you're ever in L.A. and want to check out his museum, here's the name: Planes of Fame.
[image via last.fm]
Mr. A and I spent the weekend in Wrightwood, a ski town an hour east of LA. He is an avid skiier and I can take on any bunny slope. The plan was to leave first thing Saturday and have a day on the slopes, but
1) He twisted his ankle Friday and
2) We both had work to do.
We ended up leaving in the afternoon. Once we got there, we discovered the mountain is open for night skiing. Mr. A's eyes lit up, and I told him not to worry about me. He hasn't skied in two years, he was aching to go (ankle be damned) and I could figure out something to do for three hours. (I'm not into night skiing. Brrrr.)
I sure did. The local tavern, named The Yodeler, was having a Mardi Gras celebration, so I took a seat at the bar, strung on some beads and helped myself to a Jack n Coke and mushroom pizza. Foolproof combo.
One of the locals I talked to included a man who works for an aviation museum. He restores classic WWII planes, has flown in WWII movies and air shows, and whenever he heads to Vegas for the weekend, it's in his plane. He told me how much he charges for a flight: $750.
That's when I asked.
"Would you ever take someone up, as a guest? Like, I'm not actually asking for you to take me on a flight, but would you?" (This non-question question was not strategic. It was the Jack talking.)
"If you can get the museum some publicity, write about us, I definitely can. You come out for our press day, I'll show you around and take you up for a flight."
Earlier, I had made the mistake of telling him I blog, but I didn't say exactly what about.
I'm not sure The Daily Asker is the kind of publicity he had in mind, but I kept his card. Perhaps a flight will somehow be in the works. And if you're ever in L.A. and want to check out his museum, here's the name: Planes of Fame.
[image via last.fm]
