brought out a heavy volume of flyers making flights out of Tweed and other Connecticut airfields on this day. The air traffic was at the most dense level in which Max had flown during his short piloting career.
“There is plenty of sky to go around,” Max commented to Maggie. “The air traffic controllers have their radar screens full today, for sure!”
“As long as they keep us all apart and we don’t get sucked in by some jumbo jet, I’m happy,” she quipped in response.
Within 45 minutes they were nearing Ithaca and Max lowered their plane to 2500 ft. to set up their approach to the USAP Lakeside air strip. With a crisp hillside breeze blowing directly across the single runway on their final approach, the landing was a little rough and jerky. The light, high-winged airplane bounced twice before finally settling down. During the taxi to the hangar, Maggie glanced at Max and noticed a bead of sweat on his upper lip.
“Well, that was fun!” she said with feigned nonchalance. In reality it had made her a little nervous. Knowing Maggie well enough to sense her mild anxiety, Max looked at her with a calm smile.
“Oh, well you’re just used to flying with expert pilots. You realize that I’m still a green fledgling don’t you?’ he responded good-naturedly, as he taxied the Cessna to the parking area.
“I was fine until I noticed the sweat,” she said, running her finger under her nose.
“Damn! That’s a dead giveaway,” was Max’s faked, indignant reply. “I’m just going to grow one of those neat mustaches that veteran pilots have. They disguise their stress that way and nobody knows the difference.” The small-talk ended as they pulled up to the hangar door.
Gathered in the service area were Brad, Lamar Brooks and Mario Ianozzi. Greetings were exchanged all around and Max introduced Maggie to Lamar, a USAP Partner whom she hadn’t met. As the group swapped small talk Chip walked over from the elevator carrying his overnight bag and his attaché case.
“It appears that the gangs all here,” Chip said. “Just in time because the shuttle car just arrived. I told the front desk to send it around back, so let’s step outside and greet it.”
Lamar suggested that they might want to take side-arms along, ‘just in case’. Chip negated that idea on the basis that they’d have trouble getting firearms through customs at the Canadian airport.
A black executive shuttle vehicle with dark tinted windows came around to the hangar door just as the ‘transport-tees’ filed outside. On the way to the general airport Chip explained that Danyel Uhlman was supposed to meet them at the airport customs office. It was not definite, however, since she had informed Chip that a ‘snag’ had arisen with her current assignment and if it persisted she would have to take a pass on the Nova Scotia trip. Chip seemed concerned about that development. Within twenty minutes they arrived at the Ithaca Tomkins International Airport private aviation depot. As a courtesy, a customs officer had been transported from the main terminal and within 7-8 minutes the passengers were cleared to board their departing flight.
The Partnership’s Lear 45 had been fueled and started earlier. It sat idling on the tarmac, wheel chocks in place. The concierge service loaded the luggage as the pilot, Chip, and his co-pilot, Max, checked the exterior surfaces and gear during their pre-flight.
At this point the four passengers (Danyel had not shown up) climbed into the luxuriously-finished cabin with their carry-ons and buckled into their sumptuous Corinthian-leather seats. The four-seat arrangement was two front-facing seats opposite two rear-facing seats separated by the service isle. Each pair of facing seats had a cocktail-type table between. To the rear there was a partitioned flight attendant’s station with a fold-down jump seat. The station contained a stocked mini-cocktail bar, a mini-refrigerator, a microwave oven, and a
“There is plenty of sky to go around,” Max commented to Maggie. “The air traffic controllers have their radar screens full today, for sure!”
“As long as they keep us all apart and we don’t get sucked in by some jumbo jet, I’m happy,” she quipped in response.
Within 45 minutes they were nearing Ithaca and Max lowered their plane to 2500 ft. to set up their approach to the USAP Lakeside air strip. With a crisp hillside breeze blowing directly across the single runway on their final approach, the landing was a little rough and jerky. The light, high-winged airplane bounced twice before finally settling down. During the taxi to the hangar, Maggie glanced at Max and noticed a bead of sweat on his upper lip.
“Well, that was fun!” she said with feigned nonchalance. In reality it had made her a little nervous. Knowing Maggie well enough to sense her mild anxiety, Max looked at her with a calm smile.
“Oh, well you’re just used to flying with expert pilots. You realize that I’m still a green fledgling don’t you?’ he responded good-naturedly, as he taxied the Cessna to the parking area.
“I was fine until I noticed the sweat,” she said, running her finger under her nose.
“Damn! That’s a dead giveaway,” was Max’s faked, indignant reply. “I’m just going to grow one of those neat mustaches that veteran pilots have. They disguise their stress that way and nobody knows the difference.” The small-talk ended as they pulled up to the hangar door.
Gathered in the service area were Brad, Lamar Brooks and Mario Ianozzi. Greetings were exchanged all around and Max introduced Maggie to Lamar, a USAP Partner whom she hadn’t met. As the group swapped small talk Chip walked over from the elevator carrying his overnight bag and his attaché case.
“It appears that the gangs all here,” Chip said. “Just in time because the shuttle car just arrived. I told the front desk to send it around back, so let’s step outside and greet it.”
Lamar suggested that they might want to take side-arms along, ‘just in case’. Chip negated that idea on the basis that they’d have trouble getting firearms through customs at the Canadian airport.
A black executive shuttle vehicle with dark tinted windows came around to the hangar door just as the ‘transport-tees’ filed outside. On the way to the general airport Chip explained that Danyel Uhlman was supposed to meet them at the airport customs office. It was not definite, however, since she had informed Chip that a ‘snag’ had arisen with her current assignment and if it persisted she would have to take a pass on the Nova Scotia trip. Chip seemed concerned about that development. Within twenty minutes they arrived at the Ithaca Tomkins International Airport private aviation depot. As a courtesy, a customs officer had been transported from the main terminal and within 7-8 minutes the passengers were cleared to board their departing flight.
The Partnership’s Lear 45 had been fueled and started earlier. It sat idling on the tarmac, wheel chocks in place. The concierge service loaded the luggage as the pilot, Chip, and his co-pilot, Max, checked the exterior surfaces and gear during their pre-flight.
At this point the four passengers (Danyel had not shown up) climbed into the luxuriously-finished cabin with their carry-ons and buckled into their sumptuous Corinthian-leather seats. The four-seat arrangement was two front-facing seats opposite two rear-facing seats separated by the service isle. Each pair of facing seats had a cocktail-type table between. To the rear there was a partitioned flight attendant’s station with a fold-down jump seat. The station contained a stocked mini-cocktail bar, a mini-refrigerator, a microwave oven, and a
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