*Author's Note*
This piece is a sequel to my previous piece, Flying. This piece takes place during mid-September, at about 8:00. The image you see that high at night: unforgettable.
CLEAR!! As the engine starts, the craft trembles as it comes to life. The dashboard of the plane flicker somewhat before awakening. Altimeter, thermometer, compass, everything else is in order as well. Our pilot talks to the control tower, arranging permission to take. Permission granted. We taxi down the asphalt that seems to take forever. Fortunately, no other plane is preparing to fly, so we are good to go. The aircraft goes from a gentle tremble to a almost violent shaking as we accelerate down the runway. While moving down the long stretch, the strobe lights and other lights flash as we pass them by. Red, blue, green, yellow, red, blue, green, yellow. The cycle goes to your head, but clears the moment you get ascend from the ground. Now we are in the air.
The ascending mono-wing climbs at a steady pace. As we rise, the strobe lights from take-off become nothing. As the pilot, my friend, and I look around, all our eyes widen. The array of the beautiful assortment of illuminated towns and suburbs astound us. One of the main reasons we wanted to fly was because there was a Pewaukee game, and we were all curious as to what the game would look like from above. So, we headed over to the school district, and spotted the immensely bright game lights. We circled around the game, and I used some binoculars to check the score. Pewaukee was in the lead, so we were all content. But the true allure of the flight arrived when we escalated to about mile and a half above ground.
No words can describe the immensity of the sight. The lights lit up the ground to a degree one cannot imagine. Towns like Pewaukee soon became blended in with the variety of lights. The only colors you could see were yellow, white, and black. Streetlights filled the night and lined the streets. Between the streets were buildings, some glowing, some dead. Forested areas were black as a cloudy night. Friday night lights blazed above the football field as the Pirates slowly beat down the opposing team. With your imagination, you could create anything with the glowing expanse.
Not only were the lights below us astonishing, but if you looked south, the southern end of Chicago was visible. Look north, and you can see Green bay, only a small speck because the town is so small. Out west, Madison. East, at peaking intervals between the lofty traveling clouds, the coast of Michigan lit up the boundaries of your vision. The whole world seemed to glow and flash and celebrate. But, alas, our flight was finished. As we descended, everyone's ears were pounding from the change in altitude. The pain became agony. That pain didn't dissipate until we were heading for home. The night was over, and the ache was gone. This night, would never be forgotten.
CLEAR!! As the engine starts, the craft trembles as it comes to life. The dashboard of the plane flicker somewhat before awakening. Altimeter, thermometer, compass, everything else is in order as well. Our pilot talks to the control tower, arranging permission to take. Permission granted. We taxi down the asphalt that seems to take forever. Fortunately, no other plane is preparing to fly, so we are good to go. The aircraft goes from a gentle tremble to a almost violent shaking as we accelerate down the runway. While moving down the long stretch, the strobe lights and other lights flash as we pass them by. Red, blue, green, yellow, red, blue, green, yellow. The cycle goes to your head, but clears the moment you get ascend from the ground. Now we are in the air.
The ascending mono-wing climbs at a steady pace. As we rise, the strobe lights from take-off become nothing. As the pilot, my friend, and I look around, all our eyes widen. The array of the beautiful assortment of illuminated towns and suburbs astound us. One of the main reasons we wanted to fly was because there was a Pewaukee game, and we were all curious as to what the game would look like from above. So, we headed over to the school district, and spotted the immensely bright game lights. We circled around the game, and I used some binoculars to check the score. Pewaukee was in the lead, so we were all content. But the true allure of the flight arrived when we escalated to about mile and a half above ground.
No words can describe the immensity of the sight. The lights lit up the ground to a degree one cannot imagine. Towns like Pewaukee soon became blended in with the variety of lights. The only colors you could see were yellow, white, and black. Streetlights filled the night and lined the streets. Between the streets were buildings, some glowing, some dead. Forested areas were black as a cloudy night. Friday night lights blazed above the football field as the Pirates slowly beat down the opposing team. With your imagination, you could create anything with the glowing expanse.
Not only were the lights below us astonishing, but if you looked south, the southern end of Chicago was visible. Look north, and you can see Green bay, only a small speck because the town is so small. Out west, Madison. East, at peaking intervals between the lofty traveling clouds, the coast of Michigan lit up the boundaries of your vision. The whole world seemed to glow and flash and celebrate. But, alas, our flight was finished. As we descended, everyone's ears were pounding from the change in altitude. The pain became agony. That pain didn't dissipate until we were heading for home. The night was over, and the ache was gone. This night, would never be forgotten.
