YACK on: Flying
Grant Sanders
I've been flying a lot lately. When show up at a client meeting off island, the clients who don't know me always ask, "Did you come here from

Nantucket this morning?"

"Yes," I say. "On the boat?"

"Oh, no, I flew"

That's when you can picture the gears turning in their heads and they start to compute how much they're overpaying me.

Then I have to quickly add, "It's one of those little puddle jumpers, from the island to Hyannis. Doesn't cost a lot. Really."

And they relax.

"I hate being in little planes," they sometimes say.

To tell you the truth I really like flying in small planes. Especially those Cessna 402s. The larger the planes get, the less enjoyable it is for me. On a big plane you get to stare at the latch on your seat-back tray table. On the 402, you've got all kinds of dials and gauges and flashing lights to look at. We who suffer from ADD really appreciate that.

I estimate that I have flown between Hyannis and Nantucket at least 1,100 times. In fact, I'll bet I've flown enough times to actually know how to fly the plane. I mean, how hard can it be? You rev the thing up, pull back on the steering wheel and you're up. You talk to the guy in the tower on the radio. Press a few buttons. And put the plane down, gently, in Hyannis. I could do that. I sometimes ask the pilots if I can try it and they just smile and turn their attention to that little dial with the teeny tiny airplane on it.

The first few times I flew on a Cessna, I didn't know what everything was for. But now I can tell what our wind speed is, or the altitude. I know that the loud beeping sound is just the autopilot being turned off. Years ago when I heard that sound for the first time, I thought it was some kind of warning of impending doom. It took me a few flights to get used to it. If you're ever flying with someone who has never been on a Cessna 402, when the beeping autopilot noise happens, try gasping audibly, and then begin to cry and pray simultaneously. It can be fun to watch their reaction.

Of course these planes are not without their drawbacks. For one, I've noticed that the airlines tend to make their seatbelts shorter right after Thanksgiving. I have no idea why they continue to do this, but they do. I can barely buckle some of them up these days! Happily, we are getting to the season when they begin to lengthen the belts again.

Also, I've noticed that they like to put us bigger guys in the co-pilot seat. It's the most uncomfortable seat. The seatbelt has a shoulder harness that takes a degree in engineering to figure out. Your knees are crammed up against the control panel. And getting in and out of the seat, for me, requires bending in ways that I'm not sure are healthy, and a good amount of grunting and complaining.

Once I asked why they like to put me in the co-pilot seat and not the 115- pound salad-eater behind me. The reason? They need the extra weight to keep the nose down. I feel that paying full price for my ticket and then performing the valuable service of acting as ballast is not at all fair. I think I deserve to receive a discount for this. I've spoken with the people at the desk of the airlines and they just smile and then turn their attention to the list of people's weights.

Another thing that the airline counter personnel do that annoys me is that they all use the same color boarding cards. Red. Green Blue. How about mixing it up a little? Draw straws. The winning airline keeps the normal colors. The losers switch to alternative colors. It would cause less confusion. I can't wait for the day I hear, "We are pleased to announce the boarding of flight 104 to Hyannis; all passengers holding sea foam boarding cards please proceed to the courtyard."

"Honey, are we sea foam?"

"No dear, we are vermillion."

Some flights are more pleasant than others. On the gustier days, I get into my seat and I tighten the seatbelt as tight as I can make it. If my toes are turning blue, the seatbelt is just about the right tightness. If there's some slack, I will often hit my head on the ceiling when we go over a big bump. The worst flight I was ever on was not too long ago, and I hit my head three times! I still have the little circular indentation in my skull from the air vent mounted in the ceiling above my head. Happily, I've never needed to use one of those airsickness bags in the more than 1,100 flights I've taken. Knock wood. I can't think of anything more embarrassing than walking across the tarmac with a full bag in one hand, rubbing the bump on your head with the other.

The worst kind of flight to be on, however, is when it is foggy. Sometimes I wonder how those amazing pilots find the runway at all. I can recall one flight several years ago when we dropped down out of the clouds and the runway was way off to the starboard side of the plane. The pilot I was sitting next to pulled a cool move that was right out of Top Gun or something. And we landed fine.

Luckily I had an extra pair of pants in my bag.

YACK on. I

Grant Sanders is the host of YACK, the Nantucket Online Community at www.yackon.com which is accessible anywhere except 2,000 feet above Nantucket Sound. His views are his alone and do not reflect the editorial stance of the Nantucket Independent. His wife prefers the fast boat.