This past weekend, I completed my first flying lessons. (In a real airplane. Off the ground. For real.) Being a rational, cautious individual, this was approached with some anxiety, but not nearly as overwhelming as I expected.

The most immediate thing you notice is how overwhelming the initial lessons can be. Even before you start yanking and banking, you've already gone through an hour of pre-flight, flight clearances, and the like. Sure, it's important but the numbness from information overload is already setting in. I could probably have stopped after pre-flight and still felt like I learned more than enough for one day. Instead, I'm (poorly) taxing from the tie-down to the runway where the instructor points the nose down the runway and into the air. During this initial lesson, when I'm still trying to remember at what RPM we tested the mags, I'm already trying to keep straight and level flight, make thirty-degree banks, and make altitude changes.

Of course, this being my first time in a small plane (without all that many trips in an airliner), I have to deal with the new physical sensations. Assuming you are in good health, your body maintains balance by monitoring the direction and magnitude of the forces exerted on you (namely gravity). In a plane, especially while maneuvering, gravity is pulling at odd angles and at strengths other than 1 g. In the first several minutes of flight, my instructor felt the need to comment on this with such things like “don't worry, you aren't going to fall out of the plane.” Sure, I know that, but please explain it to my completely confused vestibular system. Thankfully, the non-debilitating panic did not survive the first flight.

So, thus far, I've learned the basics about keeping a small plane from impacting the ground. And I've learned that I can get in a small plane without throwing up. At this point, the only impediment to earning my wings will be my patience, determination, and continuing lack of a major screw-up.