I got my first model plane when I was about twelve. I scrapped together all my pocket money and got a really nice radio controlled glider. It took me weeks to assemble and then, just before the maiden flight, Georg accidentally sat down on it — the plane was destroyed before it ever flew.
Years later I finally worked up the courage and I decided to try my luck again and after working all summer I had enough money to buy the top of the line electro helicopter.
It was beautiful! Black body with white rotors.
The whole family gathered in front of the house, I let it hoover right before my eyes — a moment of pure bliss — which ended abruptly when a gust pushed it into a nearby tree trunk.
It went off like a splinter bomb.
For weeks my father was still picking up broken helicopter parts while mowing the lawn.
So when I decided that it was time to unleash my inner ace pilot again, I had a plan.
Of course I bought the plane that I wanted to fly, but I’m a married man now and therefore much more responsible. So I also got a super cheap one. You know just to get back into the hobby again.
The first flight was a full success. I was using my environment to it’s full extent — a totally random three dimensional walk through the park. The innocent bystanders were like frozen puppets staring wide eyed at the chaotic wonder that was zooming above their heads.
When I finally crash-landed — after thirty long seconds — I felt spent — like a fighter pilot after a hard battle.
For my second flight I shot up twenty meters, turned around, narrowly avoided the ground and ended up in the tree right behind me — pure adrenalin.
The third flight was probably the best and longest. Like before I had absolutely no control over the plane whatsoever, but managed to avoid hitting any of the spectators for at least 45 seconds — until I landed in a tree top, from which the plane was totally unrecoverable.
I guess Christof put it best when he said:
Ali, once you manage to bring one back in one piece you will know how to fly.