Up In The Air

Have you ever seen a jet powered school bus?

No, that’s not a rhetorical question. And no, I’m not about to launch into some futuristic, “back to school” rant (not yet).

The funny thing is I have seen a jet powered school bus. I saw one just the other day, along with 200,000 other folks. It was one of many highlights at the Westfield Air Show.

Recently, our Cub Scout leader made arrangements for our den to attend the air show with an overnight campout squeezed in between. My kids were crazy about seeing fighter planes, bombers and every other type of aircraft (including the aforementioned jet powered school bus). Me? Not so much. I’d never been to an air show before and camping is just not my thing.

I recall a co-worker once telling me about her childhood air show experience. At one point during the performance, a pilot lost control of his plane, causing it to crash in a ball of flames. Her father announced, “Okay, show’s over”, and hustled the family back to the car. Since hearing that story I’ve been apprehensive about air shows.

The plan (oh, we love plans, don’t we?) was that my husband was going to take the kids to the show, camping out afterwards. I, on the other hand, would stay home and revel in peace and quiet. But you know what they say about the best laid plans? My husband’s appendix had plans of its own, (more about that in another column). Suffice it to say, he was in no shape to take my kids anywhere, and so my son turned his sad, puppy eyes to me and said, “Can’t you take us mommy?” Grudgingly, I agreed to take them to the show, on the condition that I would be spending the evening, not in a tent, but in my own comfortable bed.

I regretted this decision when my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. the morning of the air show. Given that Westfield is a good two hours away, we needed to make an early start if we were going to get there on time. We met up with our scout leader and another family at one of the rest areas on the pike and followed each other the rest of the way.

About three miles east of Westfield, the traffic suddenly stopped. This did not bode well. After crawling for a mile, a state trooper began to wave us out of the right lane and ordered us to move around the stopped cars. This we did, only to find that we would need to merge back into the stopped traffic at the State Police barracks, which was the temporary exit for the air show (it leads to the back of the airfield and an alternate parking lot). Several cars in the right lane made their displeasure known both visually and verbally as my cohorts and I had to merge back into their lane. Despite my protest that it was the police who ordered us to do so, my children got to hear a few choice swear words (prompting me to wonder if there’s a merit badge they can earn for that).

Finally we parked and then lugged our blankets, bags, chairs and coolers through the gates. This being a National Guard base, our bags where checked by uniformed guards. (One called out “Anyone without any bags or pockets knives can come through this way.” Pocket knives?)

We claimed our spot as planes began zooming all around us. My boys were in heaven, alternating between pointing out planes they recognized and holding their ears as the roar of jet engines shook the earth. In addition to the planes in the sky, huge assortments of military aircraft were stationed on the ground, allowing spectators to touch and even climb aboard. My boys were thrilled to walk through a Sea Stallion helicopter (“Mom, this is what they used in the movie ‘Transformers!’”) and peek inside the cockpit of a fighter jet. As we walked the midway, surrounded by corn dogs, funnel cake and t-shirt vendors, I couldn’t help but think, “It’s like the Marshfield Fair…only with fighter jets.”

The afternoon was a blur of F-16s, C-130’s and A-10 Thunderbolts (there was supposed to be a stealth bomber, but for some reason we never saw it.) As the show drew to a close, I had to admit that I had a lot of fun. Though I may not know the difference between a Sea Dragon and a Sea Stallion, I do know that there is only one thing more entertaining than a jet powered school bus:

A jet powered outhouse.