While flying across the country two weeks ago, from San Jose to Chicago, I was reading a book titled "Fire" by Sebastian Junger. The book consists of essays about people willingly putting themselves in dangerous situations, and the first two chapters are about wildfire-fighters - the men and women who combat the hundreds of fires that consume large parts of the western forests. While I was reading these articles, I was thinking about the fact that these men are now fighting some of the worst wildfires in the history of this country. I then realized that we were about to fly over Colorado, where fires had been devastating the woods near Denver. I became fixated on the scenery outside, and within a half hour, I could see huge cloud of smoke coming off a mountainside in the distance. I don't know how big the fire was in terms of what the firefighters were dealing with now, but it certainly put some perspective on what I was reading.

I just had another glider lesson. Today's topic was spins. Basically, you enter a gentle turn, kick full rudder to the direction you're turning, and keep pulling back the stick to prevent the aircraft from dipping its nose. Once you can't pull the stick back any further, the nose drops and glider starts spinning. All you can see out the canopy are the hills below you, quickly turning around and around and around as you get closer and closer to them. It spins about once every two seconds, and loses 300 feet per turn, so it's important to get out of it quickly.

To recover, you kick full opposite rudder (opposite to the direction you're turning) and push forward on the stick. The turning stops and suddenly you're diving and picking up speed. If you're like me, you leave the stick forward too long, and everything you're carrying ends up stuck to the top of the canopy...good thing you're strapped into your seat so well. You then pull back to level flight, which is a 3- to 4-g maneuver - you feel the skin on your face pulling down and your head starts to feel a little strange. It's hard to breath, which you notice very well, since you're close to hyperventilating at this point.

Then, suddenly, you're back where you're supposed to be, looking at a normal horizon, and the ground is about a thousand feet closer than it was at the beginning of the exercise...well, at least it is if you're not good at recovering yet.

I didn't do any spins during my private pilot training, but I did a few in a Diamond Katana when I was getting checked out in it a few months ago. The glider spins aren't as scary as the Katana's; they're quite a bit slower and don't throw you around so much.

Next lesson: more spins and emergency procedures.

I was waiting in the Newark airport terminal for my flight back to San Jose to board. I had arrived early, since it was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, so I didn't know how long it would take to get to the airport, or how long security would take. It turned out that neither took long at all. So there I was, trying to relax and pass the time on the most uncomfortable chairs know to mankind. Part of my flying ritual involves eating M&Ms, the peanut variety. I thought that perhaps I could burn a few minutes by wandering to the gift shop and buying my bag of M&Ms. Since it's a long flight, and I planned to begin eating them while still waiting for the plane to board, I purchased the large package of M&Ms, the next size above the "King-sized". It comes in a tyvek-like plastic bag.

I then wandered back, sat down, and began opening my bag of M&Ms. For some reason, this bag had been super-sealed at the M&M factory, and no amount of gentle pulling and prodding was going to open it. I began to apply a little more force, but I had visions in my mind of the bag completely ripping open, so I still attempted to be very careful. This turned out to be a wonderful way to pass the time; rarely is the event of opening a bag of candy considered to be time-consuming.

I started to feel like an idiot. I was spending several minutes struggling against a piece of plastic designed to be opened by child, and I just wasn't making headway. The only option left to me was to apply more force; I was not going be defeated at this stage. I pulled a little harder; the bag wouldn't give. A little more, a little more...

*PHVOOF!* The bag instantly ripped open and the force propelled the contents into the air. I heard a gasp beside me as a beautiful prism of color arched before me, and dozens of peanut M&Ms covered the floor over the entire concourse. The candy coated the floor for 20 feet in front of me, intermingled with a hundred other travellers waiting for the same flight.

All I could do was sit there and laugh uncontrollably.