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Page 6
Simulation For Real: Air Combat USA
by Bob "Groucho" MarksRTB
We flew back to Fullerton, this time with Brad and Dooley following us at forty-five degrees to our right. I really think that the only time I felt so alive was my Las Vegas wedding day to Melody, my beautiful wife.
After a squeaker of a landing back on Fullerton's runway 24, Jesse taxied us back to the stucco-covered Air Combat USA compound. I was surprised to find myself completely drenched in sweat. Brad and Dooley's Marchetti stopped right along side. The Canuck Menace, I noticed, had a smile as large as mine felt. I pulled myself out of the airplane and shook Brad's hand, with a slap on the shoulder thrown in for good measure. "Good fight, my man!"
"Hey, Bob, you can throw that bag into the dumpster on the other side of the fence." Jesse, once again, saving my collective butt; this time from the embarrassment of carrying my own sick around in a plastic baggie. I gladly complied, while simultaneously popping off the releases of my parachute harness and thereby affecting the proper swagger.
"C'mon you guys, let's get this gear off of you so we can debrief."
Wandering into the locker room, I suddenly felt very, very tired. "Jesus," I blasphemed, "how do you guys get used to this?"
"It's like any other sport," Jesse rationalized, "You get used to it."
Get used to it, indeed. I was almost ready for Air Combat USA's advanced Phase II training---after a solid week's sleep, maybe.
Debrief
We sat bellied up to the bar for debriefing, watching the fun and foibles that only videotape can reveal. Jonesing heavily for caffeine, I drank a Coca-Cola, while my arch nemesis and his wife chugged a Squirt each. Jesse and Dooley critiqued our performance fairly yet painfully. We had fun, yes, but we wouldn't be here if we weren't just a little bit competitive. I may have shot down my new friend enough times to make him really dead three times over, problem is, my visit with Eugene on a boat to Europe in his Buick (all Americanisms for throwing up, folks) during our aerial firefight may did very little for my kill ratio, dammit. Brad did, however, sneak up and blast my happy ass with enough microwaves to set off the smoke system more than a couple of times. Bravo to the Canuck Menace and his very nice wife.
We made our goodbyes, and I trundled my still adrenaline-stunned rear end into my metallic green '98 Dodge Intrepid ES. Talk radio just would not do for the mindset I was in: Metallica with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra would fill in for now. Anything, I figured, to keep that incredibly lame Kenny Loggins "Danger Zone" song out of my head.
It was a three-hour drive home, this being the very peak of L.A. rush hour traffic. Any hint of the movie "Top Gun" was purged from memory via my own BETTER memories, enhanced by spotting right-lane bogies and by avoiding lard asses in the fast lane as though they were barrage ballons. I was tired, but would feel like a Class Alpha Loser if I wrapped my car around some nondescript support post.
I had just crossed off one of the "Must Accomplish" duties from my life's checklist. Is Phase II next? Bring it on! A human being should not be allowed such fun. But I should.
Editor's Note:
Air Combat USA operates in the following cities:
- Boston
- Chicago
- Las Vegas
- Cincinnati
- Fullerton, CA
- Livermore, CA
- Detroit
- Lancaster, PA
- New York/Long Island
- Kissimmee, FL
- Phoenix, AZ
- Portland, OR
- Seattle, WA
- Dallas
Check out their web site at http://www.aircombatusa.com for full offering details, pricing, and schedules.
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