If one took no chances, one would not fly at all.
-Charles Lindbergh
Sitting at Premier Aviation, once again faced with a go-no go decision. It's snowing out there, 34 degrees with clouds and mist shrouding the hills I'll fly over on my way out of here. None of that is particularly threatening; rather, it's the icing that gives me pause. I will likely encounter a little light rime out there, according to the weather service, from just above the surface all the way up to wherever I'll likely level off. But only a sliver of this airspace appears subject to the ice warning, and I'll fly out of the warning box within a few minutes of taking off. And the warning itself expires at nine.
So, what to do?
A corporate jet is scheduled to land here in a few minutes. I may ask the crew what they encountered on their approach into KELM. If they didn't take on any ice, I will feel a lot better about heading out.
I am bothered this morning about how Peg and I parted. Not that there was a quarrel, because there wasn't. Rather, we were just in a mad rush from the time we rolled out of bed, with me manically running my morning checklist and seeming to fall further and further behind, to the point that P stepped in and took over my usual breakfast duties. The upside of that development was that the eggs weren't rubbery, for once. But she seemed a little annoyed, concerned that my cadence would make her late for work. I found myself hurtling down the interstate in the snow on our way to the airport, then pulling into the empty parking lot at Premier where she jumped into the driver's seat after a businesslike peck goodbye.
What if that was the last kiss? I guess it's better than nothing. You just never know in this business, can't take anything for granted. Every day carries a risk evaluation at some point, or so it seems lately.
Today will be fine, of course, and I should arrive in Panama City under clear skies around lunchtime. From there, it's a whirlwind trip through the office before traveling in the pickup over to Tallahassee to defend a deposition tomorrow. Eight days away from P.
But at least we had the gift of last night, curled up on the couch in front of a roaring fire with a decent bottle of wine, watching the snow fall outside.
And it was truly lovely.
But now to file a flight plan and wade out into this stuff. Next stop KSPA, God willing.
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