Math In Public: The dream and nightmare of Opening Day flyovers

In January 2008 I called the front office of the NY Mets and told them that I was a lifelong Mets fan flying F-18s in Virginia and I wanted to do the Opening Day Flyover. They submitted the appropriate paperwork, it was approved, but it was assigned to a different squadron in Virginia. My squadron was assigned the Yankees opening day.  A friend of mine named Greg (from Sparta, NJ) and I called the Yankee squadron and worked a preseason trade. Shea for Yankee. They thanked us for the opportunity. (Turned out Yankee Opening day was cloudy and they got canceled. That’s what you get Yankee fan!)

So to abuse my excitement I am given the honor of leading the flight. Sounds good, but its not. I contact the Navy and get the military flyover approval. I contact the FAA and get the FAA approval and waiver. The guy at the FAA tells me in no uncertain terms that if I screw this up he will make it his mission in life that I never fly again. He sends me a legal document that I need to sign. It is filled with some great quotes like, "LT Stickles takes sole responsibility for the safety of the people in the stadium." Wow.  I didn't even think of that, but thanks. 

The proximity to LaGuardia is also an issue. Air traffic control says they will try to make a hole for us, but they give us a 1 in 3 chance of it happening.  Heaven forbid a Jet Blue flight is 2 minutes late. Anyhow I do my best job of smiling and saying "Sir" every other word and wouldn’t you know it Air Traffic Control and the FAA both approve. I am shockingly close to getting my name announced opening day with the Mets - a dream I gave up on when I was 12 and curve balls became legal in little league.  

The day of the game is the clearest day ever. Cold, but not a cloud in the sky. ALSO, God is nice enough to make the wind come from the south - which causes LaGuardia to switch runways so there is nothing in the way between Long Island Sound and 56 thousand drunk fans in David Wright jerseys.  

The flight up there was actually one of the highlights of the day. I had never flown around New York. We flew up over the statue of liberty, past the tip of Manhattan and were given a spot to hold over the Long Island Sound. We got there 20 minutes early. What could possibly go wrong? 

Here is where the Mets tried to take the best day ever and turn it into the seventh circle of hell. The Mets hadn't had a flyover in several years, due to the LaGuardia problem and general disinterest. They apparently thought of us as the pregame entertainment, like we were a mascot juggling baseballs who they could tell to go, or stop whenever they wanted. Unfortunately, the reality was we were four dudes, flying two 45 million dollar jets over the most populated city in America trying to be over the stadium at the end of some Opera singer's moment of glory. We can't exactly change the plan. I started to make this point clear over the phone the day before, but was cut off - "Look my man, there is TV scheduling involved here, when we say the National Anthem will be over at 12:58 and :30 seconds, we mean it." Roger that. I’ll be there. We get paid to be on time.

At 12:53: and :30 seconds we push from Long Island sound for the stadium. We are going 4 miles a minute, and are 6 miles away at 12:57. Perfect formation, lined up dead center with home plate, no Jet Blue planes in sight. Life is perfect.

Unfortunately for me, at that moment our friends at the NY Mets are losing their mind. Keith Hernandez took two ovations after the ceremonial first pitch. The announcer paused during the Phillies intro so the crowd could boo Jimmy Rollins. The Mets meandered onto the field when they were announced like a bunch of beer drinking softball players. At 12:58:30 they announced the Manager. Had we remained on our scheduled time we would have looked like idiots. Idiots who really like Willy Randolph, but idiots.

We fortunately had a guy in the stadium with a radio. At 6 miles he told us to delay 4 minutes. That launched me officially into my own personal hell, living my childhood nightmare where there are 56,000 New Yorkers, and a team full of my personal heroes watching me take a math test. As my college roommate Sean will attest, at the good old United States Naval Academy I never passed a Calculus final. Ever. Neither did he. (Sorry Sean) So I did what every history major does, I tried doing the math, but relied mostly on luck and the ability to estimate. I roll the jet into an angle of bank, figuring I can do a rough three minute turn, then pick up the speed and be over the stadium on time. Great plan. I roll out, my wingman in perfect position and we are ready to go. Unfortunately Rico Palatzo hasn't even started the Anthem and they tell me to delay two minutes and 35 seconds more.

My helmet almost catches on fire I am thinking so hard. I decide we don't want to be early, better to be late and we spin again. It is then that I look out the window and see a school we are 1000 feet over. Sorry Kids Enjoy the sound of freedom. 

Half way through this turn, my guy in the stadium says "Uh oh...." and then starts singing along with the anthem, which has apparently stared "By the dawns early ligggtttt......" I make a mental note to shoot the condescending guy on the Mets staff who swore they’d be on time and my friend butchering the anthem to us over the radio.

Three miles from the stadium, right around "THE LAND OF THE FREEEEEE" we go to afterburner and wind up about 20 seconds late, but because of the delay we are on TV, and they put us on the Jumbo tron, so most people think its all part of the show.  In the YouTube video you here a woman say "Come on. . .come on. . !" I hate her, but we fly over and some dude says, "that was awesome." They were both right. 

Hopefully there is a little kid in the building who wants to be a Met when he grows up, but develops a plan B to fly over the stadium instead. 

My Mom, Katie, Dad, Vicki are all there. I think that other than Katie none of them has ever seen my fly a plane. The only people who had a better day then me were my Mom and Dad. They were pretty pumped.  

We land at LaGuardia and my mind finally catches up with my body about a second before we land. I am still trying to calculate the turn radius of a hornet, and figure out how long it takes to get from "land of the free" to the word "brave." The Mets sent a car for us, so by the time we wind up at the stadium, I have forgotten how I almost drowned our Willy Randolph's intro with afterburners, made a bunch of 3rd graders think that the Russians were attacking, and signed my life away to the FAA that I wouldn't hit the cranes building the new stadium. The security guards at the stadium waved us right through. The New Yorkers were great. I took some pictures with some kids pumped about the jets, some dude bought me a beer, and the ultimate sign of man-love - a guy let me cut the line in the men’s room. We spent the game going section to section and seeing our family and friends. I had forgotten how New York treated the military - people we didn't know were excited and thanked us for showing up. My buddy McAndrews is also from New York, and is currently deployed to Baghdad. It was clear that the people in the stadium were really trying to thank him but I was the only one around. 

The Mets won, we tailgated, went out in Manhattan (free subway tickets in uniform too by the way) the Hoboken crowd bought me all the beers I could drink, we stayed in a hotel compliments of the Mets (a dump but free is free) and the next day woke up to clear skies for the trip home. Rich came to LaGuardia to see the jets. I made it from the Statue of Liberty to Virginia Beach in 30 minutes. He hadn't even made it to the tunnel going back to Jersey.

In July, I am sure that the day the baby is born will be the new best day of my life. But, that little rug rat better bring her A-game. She has a pretty good day to live up to.