Tonight we had a simple dinner on the patio--grilled steak with sauteed corn--not a big deal--I've had a stressful couple of days. After cleaning up, #2 came close to insisting that we go out for ice cream. There are a couple of options nearby, and we settled on the funky little place by the airport. The airport being a little one-runway strip where John Glenn first learned to fly as a young man. The funky little place being a trailer kind of thing that sells the greatest and cheapest ice cream. Because of some odd law, it can't stay in one place, the owners shut the thing down and move it a few feet over on the lot. The next day they move it back to the steps and open up.
As we walked over to a table in the grass, we eyed the small planes that were tied down inside the fence and saw a man walking toward the fence. Is that David? I asked, thinking it was a man we knew who was a pilot. Husband and #2 met him at the fence and chatted for a few minutes. #2 is a big fan of flying and has been begging for lessons for over a year. She was pretty interested in talking to David about flying.
Husband and #2 came back to the table to announce that they were going up for a little ride with not David, because that wasn't his name, but Dan. I'm bad with names.
We all headed over to the runway, Husband and #2 climbed into the little something with four seats and took off, and #1 and I sat on the bench out there by ourselves with all the planes. Interesting turn of events for the evening, we thought. The ride wasn't very long, and soon the plane landed and pulled right up to the bench so that we were just a few feet from the wing.
As everyone climbed out, Husband thanked Brad, because his name wasn't Dan, it turns out. We didn't know him as well as we thought. But now we do.
Back home, full of pistachio, and happy to fly.