WALLOPS ISLAND – I just got my butt kicked by an F-16.
Take the most rollicking amusement park ride you've ever experienced, and then multiply that by a billion. Imagine someone prepping James Bond's shaken-not-stirred martini -- only you're inside the shaker.
Add to it the full-body smothering of G-forces and see if you make it back without using your air sickness bags.
And I don't mind telling you, I didn't. There's no shame in it. After all, I just took a ride with the Thunderbirds, this year's headliner for the 2012 OC Air Show, and lived to tell the tale.
When I arrived early at NASA's Wallops Island Flight Facility, where the Thunderbirds team keeps their jets, I was greeted by Keith Koehler. He heads the facility's communications office. "You ready to lose your breakfast?" he joked.
"I certainly hope not," came my reply.
The man had a crystal ball, apparently.
Not to worry, he told me. "This will be the experience of your life," he said.
Inside, I met the Thunderbirds crew members who would offer short-term emergency training for far-flung scenarios like seat ejection and how to steer your parachute away from power lines.
The instruction was, of course, necessary, but it didn't help my already severe anxiety about getting strapped into a fighter jet.
"Have you ever been on a roller coaster?" asked Staff Sgt. Jarid Watson, a broadcaster for the Thunderbirds. "It's nothing like that," he said, laughing maniacally.
Craig Hall, one of the Thunderbirds crew, also sat me down for training. They put me in an olive drab flight suit and black combat boots.
"Now you're starting to look official," Hall said as he slapped Velcro patches on the outfit. I felt a smile creep across my face. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Tech. Sgt. Amber Alumpe was also helping get me fitted for my flight suit.
"What does your family think of this?" she asked, and I bluffed some sort of a passable answer.
The truth is, I hadn't told anyone in my family. I wasn't about to brag about it when, days before, I wasn't even sure if I was going to go through with it. I only gave my folks a call after the fact to share with them.
Preflight, I sat down with Thunderbirds flight surgeon Maj. Michael Carletti. He was doing his best to stay upbeat and keep it light as we were talking about dealing with the effects of motion sickness and G-forces on my body. Key advice: "Drop your mask, clench your butt."
Maybe I didn't realize how telling my body language was. "You seem kind of nervous," he finally came out and said. "Relax, it'll be fine. You're in good hands."
Capt. Michael Fisher was my pilot. On the team, he's Thunderbird No. 8, the advanced pilot and narrator. He's logged more than 1,500 hours as an Air Force pilot, and has flown combat tours in Iraq. His call sign is Drago, given his passing resemblance to the baddie in "Rocky IV."
But Fisher couldn't have been nicer or more professional. He sat me down and, using a scale model of the F-16, showed me exactly all the moves he wanted us to do in the hour or so we'd be in the air.
We didn't get to most of them.
The plan was to take off and immediately go into a vertical ascent. Word came over the radio that this plan wasn't going to work with their airspace somehow, and I felt immediate relief. So we slowly cruised up above Delmarva, and as I looked to my left, I could see the entire expanse of the peninsula stretching out before me into Virginia. It was awesome.
That moment of Zen was interrupted by my pilot, startled by a flock of sea gulls brushing back against the nose of the plane.
"Bird!" he said, with a little panic in his voice. Up until now, he'd been as cool as the other side of the pillow.
Oh, terrific, I thought. So this is how I'm gonna go. Felled by a bird strike in a fighter jet.
"I don't think they hit the engines," Fisher said, stealing several quick glances toward the wings. Turned out we were OK.
Fisher proposed we get into some aerobatics. I agreed to whatever very specific twists and turns he'd prepared me with, but at this point, my memory gets fuzzy. I was experiencing tunnel vision -- the flight doc had warned me of that – and all my blood was rushing toward my feet.
The aerobatics made my body feel like I was at the bottom of the ocean. Like the air itself was swallowing me whole. The crushing effects of G-forces are nothing to trifle with.
On one of the moves, Fisher and I pulled nearly 6 G's. My helmet found itself stuck to the headrest on inertia alone and my arms tingled.
When he asked me if I was ready for the tour-de-force move, a 9-G turn, I told him that we could take a pass on that.
And, even though the remainder of the flight was more about cruising at lower altitudes, it wasn't long before I felt queasy. I tried to fight it, but it wasn't going to work. The air sickness bag at my side was put to use. So did the backup sick bag.
"Did you get it all in the bag?" Fisher asked. "My guys would be cleaning that up later if you hadn't."
When we finally landed, I slunk out of the plane, legs unsteady, where I was cheerfully met by more than a dozen members of the Thunderbirds team. They gave me a certificate of participation, a signed photo and each shook my hand.
That lifted my spirits and reminded me how much of a team these guys really are.
Joining the Thunderbirds team is a two-year assignment for officers and a three-year assignment for enlisted crew. They travel from March to November for performances. Next year, they expect a lot of attention when the Thunderbirds mark their 60th anniversary.
"We all worked really hard to get here, in the Air Force," she said. "When you go overseas, you're representing your country, which is really cool."
It was time to go. Tech. Sgt. Jake Richmond, another member of the team who helps with media relations, asked me if I was OK to drive.
"Some people aren't. Some people, they get out and it's like they just took a fast car ride, they're fine. Other people, they'll get out and they'll want to lay on the floor for two or three hours. I've seen it," he said.
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