I have a confession to make. I totally lied when I had my initial interview. I told the nice lady that flying in a little tiny plane was no big deal. Actually I guess I didn't lie; it isn't a big deal, it's a HUGE deal. I hate to fly. The thought makes me literally sick. But I wanted the job and so I told the nice lady what she needed to hear.
When the time came to go to the airport in Dillingham to ride the little tiny plane to my new home and school and job and life, the bugs distracted me from getting all worked up. The "no-see-ums" this year in D'ham are bad enough that even the locals are complaining, not just the tourists. Clouds of flying biters surround the place. Regular screens in windows just slow them down. I was lucky or unappetizing enough that I had only been truly bitten once but the hassle factor of brushing them off my face, chest, arms, everything still made for a pretty miserable half hour waiting for our ride to show.
Once all our gear was stowed, none too gently so it would all fit, I drove with my new asst. principal Dale, the mother hen to our group, Donna who teaches Science and Carol the sped specialist and my new neighbor to the airport up Kanakanak Road*. The airport terminal I came in initially with Alaska Airlines didn't compare to the individual waiting building for our airline, a local group with one plane that ferries people and dogs and cargo back and forth to Togiak all day. In fact, mine was one of over 150 flights out of Dillingham International Airport (remember, Russia is just over there).
Alaska Airlines is more than one room. This was a single room dominated by a huge fancy carved bar height desk and three chairs of varying age and comfort. A very nice lady in her mid 60s ran the desk and got us all checked in. That is to say, asked us if we were ready and had Dale sign a sheet of paper with everyone's name on it. No security, no TSA, no baggage check, nothing.
When the pilot, a stone faced Yupik man named Tomas, loaded us into the plane a five seat Piper aircraft, one entered by climbing up onto the wing and stepping past the cockpit to the back seats. Unless one was designated shotgun by virtue of being the new girl. Yup, I had to sit in the front seat, next to the pilot, with a steering wheel thing in front of me and pedals at my feet. Luckily, I had packed some medication from home, proscribed to me by my very nice doctor, so I was able to get into the plane without freaking out. I kept repeating in my head, "I don't have a choice." It also helped that Carol is claustrophobic so knowing someone else was also freaking out kept mine to a minimum.
Takeoff was easy; the weather was perfect for flying. It was just like being in a car that occasionally went over a bumpy road. Except that it was also kind of like sitting on a Sit 'N Spin, that loose twirly horizontal feeling while also going up and down. It was weird and I didn't like it, but a steady recitation in my head of The Lord's Prayer (Catholic version, sorry Presbyterians some habits are hard to break, especially when terrified) with a few Hail Marys thrown in for good measure, acted like a mantra for me and eventually I was able to really look around to where we were going. We never went very high up and at times going through the mountain passes, the mountains were higher than we were. All the tundra was a brilliant greenish color in about every shade I have ever seen, tinted in places by rust that I sure will spread as Fall commences. Every once in a while, Donna would shout up to me some point of interest, usually having to do with other villages we passed and where their schools were (all red roofed for some reason).
Soon enough, too soon, finally 45 minutes later, we landed on the airstrip that conveniently runs right into the ocean if you go too far thankyouverymuch. Didn't like that. What was funny when we got out of the plane and Tomas started unloading our gear, both Donna and Carol moved away from the plane very quickly. I heard Carol say, "Thank God, I thought we were going to die for sure." This startled me since I thought it had been a smooth, featureless flight. Donna explained that the fuel smell I assumed was just part of a small plane experience actually meant a fuel leak and that we had been in real danger! "Didn't you see Tom fiddling with all the knobs? He was trying to figure out where the leak was from." I thought it was part of the whole flying thing, not something out of the ordinary. Ignorance is bliss, I tell you!
*The longest place name that is also a palindrome, in the world!
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