Airport Cafe

Great post, Jay. Exactly my thoughts in http://pad39a.com/gene/guy.html
but you took the time to say it better.
--
Gene Seibel
Tales of Flight - http://pad39a.com/gene/tales.html
Because I fly, I envy no one.

Another great story, Jay.

Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is intransitive, lay
is transitive -- unless you're talking about the homonyms). You lay down
the pencil. You lie down to sleep.

Pet peave # 18 triggered... Must control keyboard of death... Ugh...
Ooof... Mfff...

--
Bob (Chief Pilot, White Knuckle Airways)


"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
news:ZbMXe.354359$_o.50707@attbi_s71...
At other times, in other restaurants, he would be the guy to be studiously
avoided, like a stray dog that looked friendly. In a freeway restaurant,
or a hotel lobby, he would be the old guy that would cause you to avert
your eyes and quicken your step, for fear of endless, repetitive
conversation that might tie up your whole day.

But not here. For this was an airport cafe, and that meant that this
fellow was likely a combination of unofficial airport historian, court
jester, and -- most importantly -- a survivor of many years of flying. As
such, his eccentricities could be overlooked, his unshaven, disheveled
appearance ignored, and his habit of talking to anyone and everyone became
endearing.

Rudy was just such a guy, and he came into our lives this past weekend.

We, as always, were late for breakfast. This far into the early
afternoon, there were only a few of us dining, and not much left to see on
the ramp, so we partook of that grand old tradition known everywhere as
"hangar flying." Within minutes we all knew what the others had flown, and
where they were from, and a feeling of camaraderie and warmth combined
with hot coffee and tea to make for a most agreeable atmosphere.

Into this temple of aviation walked Rudy. We have all seen his kind; he
was the old guy sitting by himself at the airport cafe, with a bit of egg
yolk stuck in the corner of his mouth. Lean, tall and lanky, with a shock
of tousled gray hair that belied his age, his easy demeanor with the
waitress and familiarity with the menu pegged him as that mainstay of
airport restaurants everywhere -- he was a "Regular."

We usually stand out in an airport crowd, thanks to our kids (isn't that
sad?), and here was no different. Sizing us up from across the dining
room, the old man quickly took a shine to us, and we were soon chatting
amiably about Iowa, football, and flying until our food came -- whereupon
our hunger overtook our manners, and we settled into a silent reverie over
corned beef hash and eggs smothered with biscuit gravy...

But the silence didn't last long.

Pushing 80, Rudy was clearly a man on a mission, and not the type to sit
quietly for long. Soon we were discussing Cirrus Design, soaring, and
float planes. He had flown his own planes for many years, but had stopped
flying some years ago, not because of any physical problems, but because
he had found a new, all-encompassing love: Classic cars. More
importantly, the cars of his youth. He and his wife were founding members
of a Packard Car Club, and they now traveled the country attending car
shows and forums.

Silently aghast at how anyone could be drawn away from flying by a mere
automobile, I politely hummed and hawed about cars, too, but my heart
wasn't in it. The conversation slowly ground down, and we were
momentarily distracted by a Navion on the ramp. Soon, silence reigned,
and I went back to my newspaper.

As we all finished breakfast, Rudy looked us over with a gleam in his eye,
and asked the kids if they'd like to go see "an old, 1928 Packard." Not
sure how to respond, they looked at me with questioning eyes, and I
responded with a wary "Sure!" Soon we were ambling out to the parking
lot in Rudy's wake, trying to keep up.

In all the years we had flown to this airport cafe, we had never, ever
been off the airport -- so the parking lot was a strange, new world. Much
to our amazement, there sat a real, live "Bonnie & Clyde" gangster car,
complete with hood ornament, running boards and a place to hide your Tommy
gun! As we neared this amazing old vehicle, Rudy was absolutely alive,
answering our non-stop questions ("How fast will it go?" "How big is the
engine?") and gleefully showing us the bizarre and amazing features of
his 77 year-old gem.

Then he looked at Rebecca, winked, and asked her if she'd like to take her
family for a ride? By then firmly entranced by the old man, the kids and
Mary gleefully clambered up the big running boards and settled into the
capacious back seat. It was incredible -- my 15 year old son could LAY
DOWN on the seat, and his feet couldn't touch the back of the front seats!

I found my way into the passenger front seat, next to Rudy, and he fired
up that big 'ol in-line 6 cylinder engine. It started instantly and
easily, and ran as smooth as any V-12. With gracious, practiced movements
that can only come from a lifetime of experience, Rudy manipulated the
unusual (and unlabeled) controls with ease, and we were soon trundling
down the road.

Every, single person we passed stopped, stared, smiled, and waved. Rudy
always waved back, and soon, so did we. As the conversation continued,
the ride grew longer, until we were miles from the airport, enjoying the
warm day and the Packard's unique "flow-through ventilation" (the
windshield could be opened up "in flight"!) all the while marveling that a
piece of equipment could run so perfectly after nearly eight decades.
With sterling silver door handles and enough headroom to easily wear a top
hat, it soon became clear that we had made little progress in automotive
engineering since 1928.

Too soon Rudy returned us to the airport, where he produced a Packard Club
magazine, proudly showing him doing a hand stand, on a chair, balanced on
two inverted water glasses! The photo was over 55 years old, and a truly
amazing feat -- but he was far more proud of the next picture, taken just
last year, showing him doing a similar hand stand at age 77!

Before long it was time for us to head back to Iowa City. Rapier sharp,
Rudy remembered all of our names, bid each of us adieu individually, and
left us gazing in awe as this amazing old man drove off in his remarkable
time machine.

All the way back to Iowa City I couldn't help but ponder the strange
attraction that airport cafes have for the best of people, even for those
who no longer fly. In my experience, no other place is so imbued with
such a powerful appeal for the doers and dreamers amongst us. And on this
day, at this time, we were made all the richer because of one selfless old
man, one beautiful old car, and our ability to let down our guard in the
natural ambience and warmth of the airport cafe.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

Pet peeves #19 & 20 triggered.

#19. Peeve.

#20. Quoting 400 or so lines of text for a ten line comment.


Jim




"Bob Chilcoat" wrote in message
...


Pet peave # 18 triggered

("Bob Chilcoat" wrote)

Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is intransitive,
lay is transitive -- unless you're talking about the homonyms). You lay
down the pencil. You lie down to sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

- child's bedtime prayer - 18th century

Is laying yourself down [to sleep] intransitive - you become the pencil?


Montblack

("Montblack" wrote)
Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is intransitive,
lay is transitive -- unless you're talking about the homonyms). You lay
down the pencil. You lie down to sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

Is laying yourself down [to sleep] intransitive - you become the pencil?


Crap. I mean transitive.

Great, now I'm in the deep end and I can't touch the bottom.


Mont-black (...as in primary colors)

"Bob Chilcoat" wrote

Pet peave # 18 triggered... Must control keyboard of death... Ugh...
Ooof... Mfff...

Step away from the keyboard. Yes that's it. Let it lie there, and back up!
g
--
Jim in NC

"Montblack" writes:

("Bob Chilcoat" wrote)

Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is
intransitive, lay is transitive -- unless you're talking about the
homonyms). You lay down the pencil. You lie down to sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

- child's bedtime prayer - 18th century

Is laying yourself down [to sleep] intransitive - you become the pencil?

I *knew* that would pop up soon. Note that it's "lay me"; that's a
reflexive form. Different situation.
--
David Dyer-Bennet, , http://www.dd-b.net/dd-b/
RKBA: http://noguns-nomoney.com/ http://www.dd-b.net/carry/
Pics: http://dd-b.lighthunters.net/ http://www.dd-b.net/dd-b/SnapshotAlbum/
Dragaera/Steven Brust: http://dragaera.info/

"Montblack" writes:

("Montblack" wrote)
Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is
intransitive, lay is transitive -- unless you're talking about the
homonyms). You lay down the pencil. You lie down to sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

Is laying yourself down [to sleep] intransitive - you become the pencil?


Crap. I mean transitive.

Great, now I'm in the deep end and I can't touch the bottom.

Welcome to the grammar thread!

I had a pretty good partnership going with a college roommate. Turns
out I could pretty reliably tell him what was the "right" way to say
something, better than he could figure it out. Once that was settled,
he could provide the grammatical argument and terminology, much better
than I could. It came in handy!
--
David Dyer-Bennet, , http://www.dd-b.net/dd-b/
RKBA: http://noguns-nomoney.com/ http://www.dd-b.net/carry/
Pics: http://dd-b.lighthunters.net/ http://www.dd-b.net/dd-b/SnapshotAlbum/
Dragaera/Steven Brust: http://dragaera.info/

Now take a note: it's "... LIE down on the seat" (lie is intransitive,
lay is transitive -- unless you're talking about the homonyms). You lay
down the pencil. You lie down to sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

Is laying yourself down [to sleep] intransitive - you become the pencil?


Crap. I mean transitive.

Try not to worry too much about it. My English professors (the good
ones, anyway) taught me that English is a living, breathing animal that
can't be caged or contained inside such silly, pedantic rules.

Besides, no matter how much I proof read my own stuff, I ALWAYS make
mistakes. That's why newspapers have "Editors" -- cuz no one is very
good at spotting their own flubs.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
oups.com...
Besides, no matter how much I proof read my own stuff, I ALWAYS make
mistakes. That's why newspapers have "Editors" -- cuz no one is very
good at spotting their own flubs.

And if editors were always right, Jay Leno wouldn't have material on Monday
nights...