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In which I announce that I will get turned on by an airplane, or rather, six airplanes.

This last weekend, Handsome and I flew up to Seattle to visit his family.  It was on this trip that I learned that airplanes can actually get me fairly excited.  No, there was no mile-high clubbing.  Nor was their super-fancy upgrades to first class.  And the flight attendants were polite and completely appropriate.  In fact, my transportation plane was more like a flying garbage can full of smelly individuals and bad snacks.  There is nothing exciting about old, rickety, regional “jets”.  I’m not talking about that airplane.  I’m talking about the Blue Angels, in Seattle this weekend for SeaFair. 

The Blue Angels are a division of the US Navy and consist of 6 fighter jets, which fly in formations, zooming right over the tree-tops, threatening to break the sound barrier.  In girly terms, it means the Blue Angels specialize in synchronized aerobatics.  In a plane.  Moving at close to 700 miles per hour.  With 5 other planes in the immediate vicinity.  It was AWESOME!  My insides get all giggly and twitterpated-like just thinking about it.  Seriously, it was hott.  They–the angels–were hott.  Their planes were hott.  Their moves were hott.  Their trickery and quasi-kamikazi-ness was hott.  And (so I don’t get in trouble later), Handsome was/is hott.

I’m pretty sure that most (if not all) of you didn’t know that I was actually accepted to Air Force Academy back in the day, I had every intention of becoming a world class fighter pilot.  Life happened and I ended up choosing a different school, different career path, different everything, but I still get really excited over things like airplanes flying so low I could have seen the pilot wave, ya know, if he was concentrating on being friendly instead of concentrating on flying.  I love the sound of something so fast and so powerful–my “real life” substitutions include riding on Handsome’s bullet bike or in his super-fast-and-shiny car.  

On Friday and Saturday, there were no substitutions.  I only wish that I had a fancier camera, one with a big fancy zoom and the ability to take 6 pictures per second.  As it is, you’ll have to deal with my paltry efforts and pretending to be a real photographer.  (Is it ok that over 3 days I took a hundred-and-something photos of planes, and perhaps only 10 photos of anything else?)

These pilots are so incredibly low, I can’t even imagine the talent and daredevilry required for these kinds of stunts.

That’s two planes, people.  Two planes flying less than 10 feet apart.  Right. In. Front. Of. Me. 

Do I count as “arty” yet with my fancy looking-at-the-sun pic? 

Pure awesomeness.  You know you would be impressed too, even if you’re super girly.  Besides, fighter pilots are (allegedly) hott.  It should be noted, among the thousand of people who turned out to watch the Blue Angels show, we managed to sit by the one who was cranking out the Top Gun* soundtrack at full blast. 

*Tom Cruise was hot in 1986, particularly in the white flight uniform.  Now, um, not so much, I think he qualifies more for the Super Intense and Possibly Psycho award instead of the Pure Hotness award.

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