'flame'. The world would soon know. She circled in the tower pattern waiting her turn; not speaking, but using computer text with the tower. The evening sun was setting. The big air show was drawing to a close. Three large helicopters full of stunt men were thrilling the overflow stadium crowd. My plane circled the stadium slower and lower with each pass, and the, when the choppers all landed at once, Sarah came into the light right on cue. Her plane was only feet from brushing the flags and lights as the B48 dropped into the stadium. The plane's long, straight, glider-like wings seemed to reach from one end of the stadium to the other. The 'eagle reflex' set into many fans as the shadow of Sarah's plane passed over top of them. People ran, screaming and falling down in fear. Her plane's powerful jet engine wound up speed and then blasted into afterburner to break the forward and downward motion of her descent. Pulling up to a stall, Sarah balanced her plane completely motionless in the middle of the stadium, slowly backing off the throttle as fuel weight-loss tried to blast her off like a rocket. That's when I walked into Mitch Johnston's VIP press box and nodded hello to Unk and Goldwater. Unk turned and asked “Where is.....Damn it!” His eyes quickly focused back to my plane. Which was now Sarah’s plane?
Goldwater beside me, also looking straight ahead whispered “You dumb, pervert bastard!”
We all stared at Sarah's plane as it hung motionless in the middle of the stadium, balanced seemingly forever on its powerful exhaust. Ole' Duck had designed and added to the plane a special thrust-out plate to aid the odds of the stunt. Sarah was playing it well, only now starting to fold up her wings. In just seconds, she would run out of fuel and fall the rest of the way to the ground. Sarah lingered much longer in mid-air than we could 'back in the day'. The crowd was glued to this spectacle in front of them. The Astro-turf started burning as Sarah got close. She inched down to almost touching. Then, flame out, and her B48 plane leaned forward a few degrees, falling flat onto the fifty yard line, a still smoking black hole just behind it. As the B48 hit the ground, its front landing gear crumpled so the plane seemed to bow as for her to get out. The plane's large, bubble cockpit canopy then blew off, flying high into the air; a safety regulation no-no. This was very dangerous to people in the stands. Sarah then stood on the plane for pictures. This also was against all the rules. When her flight helmet came off and that long, red hair of hers spilled out, the press stopped announcing me, and fans and the press both stormed the plane, completely overpowering fire and rescue staff. Sarah would be on every magazine cover in the world that month. A new generation of aviator was born.
“Best thing ever for the show” said Mitch Johnston. “That was pure marketing genius, Cornelius! Worth more than money could buy in free advertising!” Mitch grabbed me with a hug and grinned.
Unk, the ole’ Russian weasel, was silent, holding back a smile. Goldwater had his ship phone out, looking at me with a 'got you' frown, as he frantically tried Joe's line. He wanted to be first to tell Daddy Coe, just in case Captain Coe was not watching T.V. I walked away from one lonely reporter working our high-class press box. I was quickly yesterday's news. Marshall Moore and I met in the hallway walking out. We spent the next couple of hours celebrating Sarah's triumphant closing of the air show. We were with a group of five or six friends in the lounge of our big, fancy hotel. Sarah joined us after about an hour and a half. She had been mobbed by the press. She pretended to be tired of so much attention. We hugged in the lobby and sat down for one drink. Sarah talked about almost flipping backwards twice. After her drink, she excused herself to her room. “Thank you, Cornelius, for making all this possible” she said. “I'm