The Manifest

My life wasn’t ever truly in danger, although I must admit I definitely kissed the ground when we landed.

The day started out with a short 45 minute hop in my Cherokee Six over to Naples, FL with some friends, Travis and Chris. They were to meet with WaveJet, a potential sponsor for their charity event, “Crossing for the Cure.”

WaveJet sells jet-powered paddleboards and surfboards. They aren’t nearly as fast as they sound, however we did get to take them out for a spin, and I much prefer paddleboarding when you don’t need a paddle. While the board’s speed might not be breaking the sound barrier, the it wasn’t invented for our brand of buffoonery. It was initially intended to help handicapped people to get out and enjoy surfing, paddleboarding, kayaking, fishing… you get the idea. That’s what I was told at least.

We went over, rode the board for a solid 8 minutes and then was given the runaround about how the owner of the company was dealing with some sort of crisis, then he had to go to the bank, then a package had to go out before 5pm. Whatever it was… “WE FLEW HERE TO MEET YOU” should trump all those situations. Ok, the “crisis” did turn out to be a possible heart-attack, but I still think flying in for a meeting buys you 15 minutes, no matter what.

But its possible that we didn’t have a confirmed meeting, I was just the pilot doing my friends a solid. And as we waited for Mr. No Show to call us back, we took residence at the Pewter Mug and my companions began to drink.

The Pewter Mug is situated alongside a mangrove straddled creek. The building is underwhelming and as soon as you open the doors a pungent smell kicks you right in the face. Impossible to tell exactly what it’s origin is but my guess is a harsh combination between a dry meat-rub, musty men’s cologne and a wet-mold proliferating in the air-ducts. Chris and Travis had round after round of the house special “Murph-a-Rita” named after long-time manager and WaveJet partner, Pat Murphy. I unfortunately had to sip ice-tea due to my impending piloting responsibilities as we watched patrons slowly trickle into the restaurant/ bar to play catchup with my two belligerent companions.

I couldn’t help keeping an eye on the time and noticed we had now blown right through our original departure time. I went outside to make a phone call because cell service can’t seem to penetrate walls of buildings constructed in the 1970s. Maybe its the lead paint. It was raining, so I checked the weather on my phone. The afternoon storms were rolling through and were spotted across the state like a leopard on the radar.

I knew this could spell trouble if we got caught in the dark and with a little less than 3 hours of light left, I suggested we give it 15 minutes to hear from him. We didn’t hear from him and half an hour later we finally started making our way out of the stink trap. I corralled my stumbling companions who were waiting on their roadies out to the parking lot where we piled into an Uber-mini and made our way to the airport.

The rains started off and on during the drive over to the airport, but nothing to worry about yet. What I was worried about was the hellish front visibly pushing in from off the coast. It was now a race. We had to make it to the airport, pre-flight and takeoff before that front got to us, otherwise we’d for sure be flying later in the dark or staying over the night. Neither of which I wanted to do.

At the airport, we jumped out of the cab and made a mad dash for the plane. The receptionist at the airport office called out saying we had to settle up. Ugghh the worst timing. I looked outside and saw doomsday crawling closer to the airport. Chris volunteered paying the tab and casually strolled over and started making conversation with the lady. At this point, all I could wonder is, “how the hell does he not realize the time constraints we are under?”

We finally got to the plane, did the pre-flight, and fired up the engine. We called the tower said we were ready for immediate departure. They gave us the “clear for takeoff” and we taxied towards the runway. I saw it, clear as day, or quite the opposite. The wall of rain had crossed over the fence and was beginning to swallow a hangar on far side of the airport. I push the throttle in and knew as long as I could get off the ground I’d be home free. Just then the first drops started to hit our windshield and the tower called us and said we weren’t going to make it in time. For a second, I wanted to prove them wrong, but I could no longer see the end of the runway I was heading for and knew our mission was a bust.

Back at the airport, we stood around soaked from our run from the plane through the downpour waiting for this to pass. Hoping we’d get out while there’s still sunlight. 15 minutes passed, then 30. Finally as the sun was beginning to set the rain slowed to a light shower. We decided to take our chances with what looked to be only a 5 minute window.

With the sun setting there would still be enough fading light for 30 minutes which would be about half our ride home. We gunned it.

Up in the air you could see the soup on all sides with little pockets to sneak through. Towering columns with flashing electricity erupting from within. We were a tiny metal box just begging for the tendrils of death to tap us.

Sweat fled my skin from every pore by the liter. Looking back, Naples airport was now consumed. The only way was forward, so I flipped my phone to find see the lightning strikes on my weather app and I charted our course around them. I tried my best to maintain my cool, but my two inebriated companions weren’t making the trip any easier.

The light was starting to fade and I now had a wall of thunderstorm in front of me. On the weather map, it showed an opening between the clouds, but from my perspective I couldn’t see it. I could go down to Miami and then fly back up, but that wasn’t much of a better option with storm popping up all over, so I decided to press on through the crack. If we could make it through we were home free. If…

We approached the wall of clouds and the opening still hadn’t made its big debut. By now, it was pretty much night time. I double checked the map. It was there. Somewhere. I just couldn’t see it. A flash here. A flash there. Lightning on all sides. I could see it. I think.

Now I was praying for more lightning so I could see better. Zeus must have heard me because he answered repeatedly, sending strobes off like a disco left and right. We made our way through the storm guided by flashes of lightning. Some a little too close for comfort but I could now see the city lights all along the east coast of South Florida.

We were clear. Thank God, or Zeus.