Stage Check Fail

I arrived at the airport is good spirits, mostly because New Divide was playing on the radio. I don't know if you've ever been in a Subaru STI with your foot holding the accelerator all the way while a Linkin Park song is playing, but if you haven't, you should put that on your list of things to do be for you die, or turn 30.

I noted, as I unlocked the cabin door of Cessna '139, that for the first time I was actually feeling confident about flying. Usually I'm extremely nervous or in a hurry, or any thing but confident. Today was confident. It is important that you understand that, because shortely thereafter I failed my second Stage Check, and I find that quite ironic. The Stage Check was going well at first, or so I thought, and started to go bad when the check instructor told me to pretend I had an engine fire. Engine fire's are kind of fun because we hurtle ourselves towards the ground in an attempt to either put out the imaginary flames or just get on the ground and out of the airplane. I screwed that maneuver up. Then we went to Bremeteron airport, and things really fell apart.

The north end of Bremerton's runway is closed, currently. Now, when I say the north end, I mean most of the runway, with a tiny little open area on the southern end. It wasn't so much a runway as a runway-tipped stretch of asphalt. Technically not a problem, because a test pilot can land a brand new Cessna in 600-900 feet depending on conditions. I, personally, have taken about three thousand feet, in any condition, to do a go around. And thats for the 1 out of 2 times I actually make the landing. Honestly I'd prefer a runway the size of Florida. I'm pretty sure I could land on that. Anyway, I'll skip the play by play but I made a number of mistakes that would have had my normal instructor, Matt, yelling at me, literally, especially taking off with 30 degrees of flaps in. There isn't really a direct vehicular analogy I can make to taking off with 30 degrees of flaps, but it would be somewhat like getting chased by a velociraptor in a convertible and only using second gear...with someone in the passenger seat yelling "Don't ever do that!" Actually the check instructor didn't mind so much.

This is the paragraph where I was going to complain about flying, but on the way up the stairs to my apartment I went over all of the whiny things I was going to say, and thoroughly depressed myself. So we'll skip that part. I don't know whats going to happen though. The theory that I would actually complete my training was based on the idea that I would have passed the stage check on monday.

I'm going to go play Rock Band by myself and then see District 9 with some friends. I don't really want to see District 9 again, but I do want my friends to think I don't hate them, and I do need to hang out with people. The voices in my head are always bitching that I need to be more social.