The most bizarre side trip of all time

Saturday, January 30^th, 2016.

Los Angeles, CA / Santa Ynez, CA

It is 7am and I am rushing out of my house to pick up my date on the way to beautiful and amazing Santa Ynez wine country. The sky is overcast but I don’t care. It’s my first mini vacation of 2016 and I am ready!

Around 7:45 I pick up Chris and we make a quick stop at the Santa Monica airport. He needs to drop off the keys to airplane that he rented the night before. My date is an amateur (but licensed!) pilot. This means that he enjoys flying teeny, tiny planes far below the altitude of commercial airplanes. I am an amateur passenger, which means I sit quietly in said planes and try not to cry or puke.

We have been dating since Thanksgiving. We are not boyfriend-girlfriend, but we are not seeing other people (we are dating in our thirties and not big on labels).

We cruise up the 101 and despite some coastal fog, the view is beautiful and the drive is lively. It’s Chris’s birthday and I have agreed to stop at the Santa Barbara airport on the way to wineries so that we can do a quick fly over the valley. Soon we arrive at that tiny airport and have to wait outside for the owner to come and open it up (to be fair it's only 10am). The wind is terrible and sky is still overcast. My date casually mentions that he may not be allowed to operate the plane without an instructor present (due to current conditions). He suggests that I do a “discovery” flight, since the instructor will be in the plane with us anyways. He explains this means that I will sit in the pilot’s seat, which sounds totally fun, so naturally I say yes.

As we are checking into in the airport the instructor is asking me all sorts of questions about my feelings concerning flying. I am getting the impression that the “discovery” flight is veiled attempt at selling flying lessons, but I don’t really care. The instructor and I chat happily while we finish up our paperwork and walk out to the plane. Soon I am climbing into the pilot’s seat, the instructor into the co-pilot seat (which has a full set of controls), and my date into the back seat. I glibly ask him to hold my purse… this is going to be awesome.

As we are taxiing to the runway the instructor tells me that I am going to push down on the throttle and then pull the steering wheel towards me until the plane lifts off of the ground. Wait. What?! 10 full seconds of shock pass. Before I know it, I am flying the freaking plane.

Through a state of utter shock I am slowly realizing that “discovery” flight is code for “you’re-gonna-fly-the-plane-and-should-have-been-a–better-listener-earlier-today-when-we-discussed-this”. Ha, touché birthday boy. I’m flying an airplane!

I keep a calm face and silently follow the instructor’s directions. She is very clear and emotionally supportive. I am grateful for her composure but I am still freaking out inside. Eventually the plane hits an appropriate altitude and I am instructed to follow the coastline north to a small bay. At the bay I turn the plane around in the widest 180-degree turn of all time (oh my God, I am still flying!). 

20 minutes or so has passed and we are approaching the Santa Barbara airport again. The instructor tells me that I have done great job and that I can let go of the controls now. She is going to land the plane (thank God!) and my new job is take pictures (which I do!).

Now we are on the ground again and Chris and I politely sit through a half hour sales pitch on flying lessons. I feign some interest and eventually we leave. Soon we will be back on the road to wine country. That was officially the most bizarre side trip of all time.

We stop at the harbor for a quick lunch and a strong cocktail. I definitely need a drink! Once lunch is over we continue up the freeway to our first winery, Gainey. We taste a few wines and Chris picks up his wine shipment; he is a member. Next we head over to Foxen Canyon where we befriend a 30-something woman who seems to be wine tasting alone. She tags along for the rest of the day (let the record show that I am not threatened). We end the day at Kenneth Volk. I try all sorts of Italian varietals and am bordering on drunk by the time we check into the hotel.

We have an hour or so to recover before dinner. We are meeting Chris’s friend, who is also a vineyard owner. I want to be impressive, but I am drained and half-drunk. Nonetheless I rally and attend the longest dinner of all time at the Hitching Post. Around 11pm we arrive back at the hotel. We are exhausted and I am fast asleep by 11:01.

Tomorrow morning we will head back to Los Angeles. Chris will be 39 years old and I will have flown an airplane. What a day.