Flying the aircraft is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground incapable of understanding or doing anything about it.
Three weeks ago when the powers that be at “Dangerous Flights” decided that maybe, just maybe, Super Girl might join me on the ferry flight from Uruguay to North Carolina in mid December. Upon hearing the news I promptly sent a Text tell them that if SG is on the flight that she will need visa for Brazil, so don’t forget. Last Friday I got an email indicating that it was looking very good for SG to be the co-pilot for the flight and we might be leaving as soon as the next Thursday. I again reminded the producers that SG will need a visa for Brazil because that big country is kinda in the way don’t you know. Well surprise surprise Yesterday afternoon I got a call from SG telling me that someone from the production company called and told her that she needed to get a visa for Brazil, TODAY! What followed was a mad scramble to get the applications filled out, copy’s of drivers licenses and birth certificates notarized, passport photos copied and money orders obtained. Everything needed to go out that afternoon on Fed Ex or the whole trip would be in jeopardy. It didn’t make things any easier when at the last minute the production company told us that the company that was going to speed up the visa process couldn’t get it done fast enough but they found another that could and would you mind terribly starting all over again with this new company here’s the link. “No problem” I said, “we only have forty five minutes until the last Fed Ex pick up and it’s a ten minute drive in good conditions, oh did I mention that we just got eighteen inches of snow and the roads are only half plowed?” My wife flew into action on the computer filling out the new application, scanning a new photo for an ID, printing out new letters of something or other and printing a new Fed Ex label. I helped by offering suggestions on how to get things done faster, which were much appreciated by my wife, which she told me in no uncertain terms. At which point I stopped “helping”. The packet was complete a good ten minutes after the final pick up time but I still grabbed it and dashed out into the snow hoping that the blizzard had slowed the driver in his appointed rounds. I was at least twenty minutes late as I slid into the grocery story parking lot and was greeted by the beautiful sight of a white Fed Ex truck parked out front. I did my best OJ Simpson impersonation across the ice and slid up to the driver with my package. I had at least thirty seconds to spare.