I, Lieutenant Ishida, was called to pilot the Montello Airline’s first flight from Floyd Bennett field in Brooklyn, NY on September 2nd,20xx. To oblige my mission, I took off from the undisclosed base with my Fiat CR.42 Falco with a booster fuel tank. Soon after taking off, I noticed that the oil temperature gauge was not functioning correctly. I yanked a few times on the gauge, and it showed the normal temperature. I was flying under this circumstance for a while, thinking that I should not rely on duct tape so much.
And then suddenly the tachometer went into the red zone. Soon the oil pressure totally dropped, and the engine stopped. I was forced to perform a crash landing. I had no control of the craft. My airplane dove down into a corn field....
I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to minimize the impact to the ground. My craft, however, was totally stuck in the field. I checked my body; nothing was broken. I tried the radio; no function. I came out from the cockpit. My Falco was not so lucky. All the blades of the propeller were broken off or bent. I was still happy that there was no serious damage to the craft itself and probably I could probably fly with a new propeller. I need to bring my vehicle to the nearest airport. But I had no idea where I was. I had to find a way. Where was I, anyway?
I was desperately needed to locate my current position. After walking several hours, I encounter friendly locals in a meadow. They were quite curious what I was up to. They wanted to know where I was from. I explained my situation. They told me I was in Burlington, Wisconsin. They said they had heard a loud noise and expressed dismay that noise might affect their productivity. I apologized and told them that I hope this kind of thing would not happen again. Then I mentioned that I needed to repair my craft to go to Brooklyn, NY so that I could bring New York people to Montello, Nevada
.
One local was very excited when he heard that I was headed to Nevada. It tuned out that his high school sweet heart moved to Nevada about two decades ago, and he wants me to ask around about her when I get there. I promised him that I would do what I could. Then he told me the short cut to get to the main road. They served me a cup of tea with milk. I asked for two sugar cubes. They had flower decorated sugar cubes!! I told the hostess that she has fine taste. She blushed and told me that she just loves flowers. Although the conversation was lively and I was enjoying having a few cups of fine tea in the meadow, I had to go on my mission. I thanked them and departed. They wished me luck.
I was looking for the main road. I was estimating that once I reached the main road, I could hitchhike to the airport shop or a junk shop and fabricate whatever I needed. Still, I was starting to think that I may need to have a crane to lift up my Fiat CR.42 Falco -- or 23 donkeys, whichever I could find.
But I seemed to be completely lost. I must have made a wrong turn on the trail. I ended up on the bank of a big lake. As far as I could see, there were no signs of human activity. Well, actually I was wrong.
While I was studying the map and matching my location by observing the shore lines carefully (this was difficult with only a world map.), small people came out from behind. They were very cheerful and friendly. They actually suggested that I go around the shore line a few miles, so that I will meet big people. I was not sure if that was a good idea since I cannot see how big this lake was, but I didn’t seem to have an alternative course to take. I followed their advice. They also told me that if I could come with them, their Ma would make us casserole. I asked them if it came with crashed ramen noodle on top and they said "yes". I thought that this would be wonderful to have an authentic Mid-west experience, but I had a mission to carry on. So, I had to go.
The trip was rather dreadful. I encountered scorpions, snakes, spiders, hornets, and poisonous frogs. But with my strong will to rescue my craft so that I can fly the passengers from Brooklyn while they are enjoying themselves gave me courage to cross the horrible terrain. For whatever reason, I was thinking of Vegemite the legendary dish from Australia. Thinking of having Vegemite once I got back to a cosmopolitan area kept me walking. Finally, I saw a deck with a recreational vehicle on the bank. I reached the "big people" area, but there were no signs of people. They must have gone to fishing or something else. I knocked on the door, made some noise, and sang the song "Never Gonna Give You Up" at full volume, but no one came. I squinted into the horizon. It seemed as if there was a boat on the lake. "Is this Lake Michigan, actually?" I thought.
I had no idea where Burlington, Wisconsin was. It could be a next to Lake Michigan if it was on the east side of Wisconsin. It could be next to the Mississippi River if it was on the west side of Wisconsin. By the way, do you know that one can sink the entire Benelux countries into Lake Michigan? But why would anyone want to do that? I have never met people from Luxemburg nor Bergen, and my Dutch girl friends actually buy me drinks instead of going Dutch. (I am not sure about dudes.) But, anyway, there were no people that I could flag down for help. So, I left the site following a narrow road that the RV might have come from.
After I left the RV park near a lake, I finally reached at a wide road. Then I realized that I was just making a circle. I came back to the corn field that I landed in. My entire day was lost. I did not have water. I had not eaten all day. I needed to take a hot bath and get a massage with rose petals. I needed to get a manicure. If I were at an all-you-can-eat sushi place at this point, I probably could eat so much sushi that the restaurant would have to build a fleet to catch enough fish to satisfy me. Even with a conservative estimate, I probably could eat an entire six foot tuna by myself. I was that hungry. And I probably could drain the Lake Michigan. I was that thirsty. I waited for someone passing by on a road. But no one came. It seemed that the corn field was managed automatically by a central ultra big agricultural biz machine. I needed human contact. Automated sprinkler started chasing me in a field with water.
I was so tired, but I did not want to get wet. Also, I felt the mean coldness from this automatic sprinkler structure. It was not just an automated water sprinkler. It had definitely sinister streak to the machine. So, I ran. But the sprinkler hand kept reaching for me and its half a mile long hand kept chasing me. I had to run and run and escape from the corn filed, escaping from the domain of the sprinkler machine. I saw the woody area near the field. And I dashed into the woods where the sprinkler could no longer reach me. I was short of bless. Then I met Bob, my savior.
He asked me what heck I was doing with circus costume on. (He though I was shot out from a human cannon.) I explained that I must find a shop to fix my airplane to bring joy to the people in Brooklyn who would like to go to the Montello, Nevada. He said he would help me. He could take me to his brother in law's place and he can come and get my airplane with a winch from his jeep. Also, he can probably fabricate anything for me from his junk yard. Then it was my turn to ask him what he is doing in the woods with all the stuff on his truck. He said that his wife and her sisters have a craft project and that they need to have vines to make baskets. I said to him that is so admirable that there is art and craft movement in this area. I also told him that everyone should have knowledge of how to make baskets for catching fish in the lake. I also told him that basket is a good item to dunk in the ocean to catch an octopus and told him how my uncle catches octopus. (Well, he actually uses a clay pot instead of a basket, but he told me that I can use a basket too.)
He said he has nothing to do with devil fish, but I told him that octopus tastes good with balsamic vinegar. He said I was strange fellow and had peculiar sense of humor, so he would give me a ride.
Finally, I was saved, and the good thing was that he had bread pudding and a ruben sandwich to share with me. He also fed me a good chunk of Wisconsin cheese.
At this point I knew that I could not show up on time to fly the airplane from Brooklyn, but I thought, "At least I can repair my craft, Fiat CR.42 Falco, and fly again in a few days and my glorious adventure will continue."
In retrospective, I could not reach at airfield was a minor problem. The scheduled day of flight, there was a severe storm at the Floyd Bennett field. So, even if I was there I could not fly the airplane anyway. I spent the next days, watching Packers games with Bob, drinking Pop at Lucy’s, eating chicken wings with a lot of blue cheese, until my Fiat was fixed.
....... This was the story of my latest adventure, the episode of "Lost in Wisconsin". I am sure I will have a more tales to tell. Until then, I, Lieutenant Ishida, am over and out....
(Edited by my dear friend Paul Mihas)
No comments:
Post a Comment