Awaiting blue skies
Jean and her sister Jo were chatting by phone after Thanksgiving, when they suddenly realized their mom hadn’t returned their holiday phone messages.
They contacted their mother’s residential community manager, who discovered the unfortunate woman lying in her bathroom where she’d fallen on Thanksgiving Day, five days earlier. Jean jumped into her car and drove two hours to intercept her mother at a Phoenix emergency room.
When Jean returned home four days later, she was clearly shaken. Her mother had sustained serious injuries, and even if she survived it was questionable whether she could ever live unassisted again.
We arranged to temporarily park a car at Glendale Airport for easy hospital access via Flying Carpet. Jean asked me to fly her there a few days later when Jo arrived from Illinois, so the two could rendezvous at the hospital.
Only at the airport did we realize how dense the fog was; we could barely see past the first tie-down row. The sun dimly shone through, however, with occasional patches of bluish sky.
“How long until this lifts?” asked Jean.
“Who knows?” I shrugged. “Maybe 45 minutes?” We pulled out the plane, preflighted, and waited…
READ THIS MONTH’S ENTIRE COLUMN, “FOGBOUND.” (Allow a moment for the article to load.)
Top photo: Awaiting blue skies at Flagstaff Pulliam Airport, Arizona. Lower photo: Low stratus lingers just beyond the airport boundary at takeoff.
(This column first appeared in AOPA Flight Training magazine.)
©2015 Gregory N.Brown