too close for comfort

most of you know that i went to Oshkosh last year, the worlds biggest airplane get-together type thang. one of the performances was by a group known as the "stars of tomorrow." its basically a young aerobatic group started by and under the tutelage of famed pilots mike goulian and sean tucker. it consisted of nick nilmeyer, eric tucker, and jessy panzer. so they went up and basically dueled for the crowd. it was great but it pissed me off. these kids were my age...flying at OSH. its basically like playing baseball in high school and getting invited to play in the mlb all star game.
i was staying late at work...again (didnt mind, stupidly) and i was done with everything that had to be done. i was reading something about another acro pilot when zeke (boss) poked his head in and asked if i was reading up about the pilot that died.

what?

i jumped online to see if i could find out what happened to who. sure enough: "Nick Nilmeyer was tragically killed March 21, 2006 while landing his airplane following a practice session."

gasp. nausea. shake.

ill admit to being rather melodramatic at times. ive perhaps made mountains out of molehills. in my last flying related post, i talked about being happy to be alive, i was never in any danger of anything, just to clarify. the only danger that was there was that i would make a stupid decision, which i didnt because im not a moron. all melodrama aside, reading this shook me up a bit.

richard bach wrote/writes about parallel universes and how one is born each time we make a decision; about how there are an infinite number of ourselves, each leading different lives based off of those decisions. nick nilmeyer was certainly my doppleganger that started flying younger. an article about him talks about having posters of airplanes on his walls as a kid, and bugging his dad to take him to airshows and always having his eyes turned skyward. i was no different. he was leading the life that i am so tirelessly trying to get to. and he died.

you hear about people dying in crashes. it is somehow an accepted part of flying. everyone knows someone that crashed at some point. at the very least, youve heard that story about the guy that did such and such over at that airfield and died or something. as i said, its somehow an accepted part of the culture. ive romanticized this aspect of it in the past. its that threat of utter destruction that keeps you honest and perfect and careful; its that aspect of flying that is most thrilling. all that is true, until you hear something like this where you can remember talking with someone, watching them fly, watching the blood flow through their veins, watch them light up a million sets of eyes with their airplane, and then know that they augered in and were snuffed out so innocently and so quickly, without fanfare, or headlines or even so much as a puff of smoke. there is no glory in it, wont be any memorial set aside, and life resumes the next instant just the same as it did before he died.

so what do you do? almost everyone says "it wont happen to me, i wont make that mistake." but deep down you have a certain amount of fear that you will and you question whether or not its worth it. is it? at the end of the day i packed up my bag and headed out. i was still thinking about nilmeyer, asking myself that very question. it was late, the sun was low in the sky. pulling the clouds with it as it sank, turning them whatever pink and orange and yellow it could throw at them but leaving the rest of the sky that deep deep blue that every pilot is in love with. even if it isnt worth it, it sure does put up one hell of an argument.