Another MSFS Adventure

I had only been home a few hours. The tv was on, it was a rerun of Seinfeld, the one where George...

 

I kind of drifted off. I was having a dream where I was deep in conversation. With George Costanza, of all people. The dream was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. I fumbled for it. "Hello?" I recognized the voice on the other end immediately.

 

"Glad I got you at home."

 

It was none other than "Lisa" Samson (and honestly, until this very moment I never even noticed the similarity between her name and a certain cartoon character.)

 

"What do you want?" I asked.

 

"Well," she said, "It turns out there's more to that drug ring than we had originally thought. They started singing as soon as we arrested them." Lisa laughed. "They told us everything they knew, and we aren't done yet."

 

"Maybe you aren't, but I am." I hung up the phone.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You didn't think I'd get off that easily, did you? You did! No such luck. The phone rang again almost immediately; Lisa was not impressed.

 

"You aren't finished, you have more work to do."

 

"Why me?"

 

"Because we don't want to bring in more people than we have to. You've already seen what happens, so you're in."

 

With a sigh, I agreed. "But I want to be paid this time!"

 

Lisa scoffed. "We'll see." With that see started dictating instructions and I had to hurry to take notes. Go to the airport, a ticket would be waiting at the desk, the flight number, headed for New York, then the address to go to one I landed. Okay, I thought I had everything.

 

I arranged for an Uber to take me to the airport, and sure enough, everything had been arranged exactly as I had been told. I found my seat, crammed into coach between a woman who smelled like she had already been drinking and a big guy who was really sweaty. This was not going to be a pleasant trip. I closed my eyes and tried to block them out. Easier said than done, but somehow I managed. I lost myself in my own little world and we were cruising before I knew it.

 

The flight wasn't long enough for food to be served, or anything like that. After a bit we dropped down and made a landing at JFK.

 

 

Much like Los Angeles the last time, I've been to New York more times than I can count. In fact, it's one of my regular destinations. I love to fly around the area and take in the sights. However, I very seldom see it from the ground. So once again, riding in a taxi I got to see the amazing variety of people and structures that lined the streets. So much variety.

 

The driver seemed to know where he was going, whereas i had no idea. So I didn't try to give him any directions, and watched as we passed over the Brooklyn Bridge. Soon, we were right downtown, and the congestion was pretty severe. Progress was slow but we made it to a hotel where I was let off at the curb.

The views were unlike anything I'd seen before, but there was no time for sight-seeing.

 

I remembered the directions I had been given and made my way inside to the elevator. I really had to squeeze to get in, but somehow I did it. I couldn't reach the buttons, so I called out my destination hoping someone would respond. "Can someone hit 23?" I saw the button light up.

 

We stopped several times on the way as the crowd thinned, and by the time we reached my floor, I could breathe again. I stepped to the hall and turned right. I counted the doors as I passed them. Six, seven, eight; I stopped when I got to the number I'd been given, and knocked three times.

 

It only took a few seconds for the door to open, with Lisa inside. She stepped aside. "Come on in."

 

From the window, I could see an impressive view of the city.

 

 

"So," I said. "What's the situation?"

 

"More of the same, I'm afraid," Lisa said. "We got some of the cartel in Columbia, but not everyone."

 

"So you need to get the rest," I said with nod.

 

"Exactly."

 

There was so much traffic it took us all day to get to the airport. Alright, yes, all day is an exaggeration, but I'm the one telling this story, what are you going to do, stop reading? Fine, go ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are you still there? Oh good you didn't really stop.

 

Ok, it wasn't all day, but it was a good while. We made our way to La Guardia and found our way out back. I've heard people complain about this airport, but I don't mind it. It's nice and close to the city, with an incredible view as you fly that approach to runway 4.

 

Anyways, Lisa managed to rent us a plane, if you'd call it that. It was a tiny little thing with barely room for the two of us. But it had a glass cockpit with an autopilot and everything. How odd. It was easy to taxi though, and I got us to the end of the runway with no trouble, and despite its small size, it had more than enough power to get us lifted off fairly quickly. A flight plan was already entered, and I set the autopilot to follow it. If nothing else, at least it made things easier on me.

 

I set an altitude of 3000 feet and from there we could get what I figured would be a good look around. We weren't too low, and weren't so high so that we couldn't see anything. 3000 feet doesn't sound like a lot, but in that tiny little plane I wasn't going to try for more. But visibility wasn't great, so there wasn't a lot too see.

 

The flight plan led us all the way past Long Island, out over the water and then put us down at another place I'd been to countless times before: Block Island, not far south of Providence.

 

 

In my travels over the years, I'm sure I've come across places as peaceful as Block Island. Off the top of my head, I couldn't think of any. It's quite possibly the most idyllic little place you could find. So calm and carefree you can feel your troubles melt away as you stroll through the place. But don't take your car, the roads are wide enough.

 

The birds were out and singing as Lisa led the way along the trails that wound between houses . I tried to imagine what sort of significance this place might have to a drug ring.

 

Finally, we came to a single story grey house with a green roof, and a chimney at the side. Lisa went to the door and knocked gently. At first no one answered, and I didn't mind. I listened to the birds, and smelled the ocean, which was never far away.

 

Then a woman opened the door. She was in her 60s, or maybe 70s. Her short hair was not completely grey, but was no longer its former colour either. She wore glasses along with a beige sweater. She smiled at both of us before stepping aside so we could enter. Like the outside, the interior of the house was simple. A living room in front of us with a wide, comfortable-looking couch and a big tv in front of it, along with a small kitchen off to the left. To the right an open doorway revealed a bedroom. The woman led us to the kitchen where we sat at the table as she poured three glasses from a plastic Coke bottle, before sitting with us.

 

"Joan," Lisa said. "It's so good to see you."

 

Joan smiled. "It's good to see you too, dear."

 

"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," she said, nodding in my direction.

 

"Well you're a friend to me if you know..."

 

Lisa cut her off, and I was disappointed as I felt maybe I was about to learn her real name. "You once told me that you knew someone."

 

"Well," Joan began, "It wasn't really me. It was when I was still married to Stan." She turned to me. "My Stanley passed away many years ago." She cleared her throat before continuing. "We used to live in Colorado back in the days when our health could withstand the weather. He got involved with a few seedy types."

 

"Go on," Lisa prompted.

 

"I'm not sure how much I should say, but they used the airport there for moving their 'product' around. That's what Stanley always called it, their product."

 

"And it's still like that?" Lisa asked.

 

"Yes, in fact I was e-mailing Marianne just the other day, and she said just that. There's still things going on in that area."

 

Lisa sat back. "Thanks so much, Joan"

 

"Anything for you, dear."

 

With that, Lisa rose from her chair and headed back to the door. I finished my drink in one gulp before following her. Joan spoke one last time before we left. "Please dear, be careful, and be safe."

 

"Always." Lisa reached out and squeezed Joan's hand and we were off again.

 

We retraced our route to the small airfield and again climbed into the tiny plane. The engine started with a sputter when I turned the key, then we pulled onto the runway and took to the air back to New York

After takeoff, I tuned in the VOR at JFK, and followed it in. I have to admit it, I was way too high when I got to the airport and had to circle around to get low enough to land. We parked and found our way into the terminal. After a quick stop at Starbucks so Lisa could get some coffee, we checked for available flights. There were two seats open on an Orbit flight to Denver, and we had to run to get to the gate in time.

 

We got to the gate just as they were getting ready to close the door. Lisa flashed her boarding pass and I did the same before we ran the last bit to waiting 747. The seats were close, but not right together, which was fine with me. I fastened my belt and then closed my eyes for a little nap.

 

The flight was smooth, and the landing in Denver was flawless. We made a stop at another Smashburger for dinner and Lisa made us detour to Dazbog for coffee before we headed for a hotel.

 

My room was on the 12th floor, I'm not sure where Lisa was. I couldn't help but remember how there was a time when if she had left me alone, I'd have darted to get away. I'd really changed over the course of our time working together.

 

Morning came far too early, and I had just gotten out of the shower and dressed when a knock came at my door. Surprise, surprise, it was Lisa, cup of coffee in hand. I think she's developing a caffeine addiction.

 

"Morning, sunshine," she said.

 

I faked a laugh and waved her in. "So what's the plan today?"

 

"We've got another trip to make."

 

"Great."

 

We headed for the elevator and down to the ground level, then back to the airport where we rented a Diamond twin engine. I'd flown that model before and always enjoyed it.

 

We had to climb to a pretty good altitude, and the weather was bad. I used my glass display to get me around the mountains, and I couldn't remember what it was like to do without one.

 

We finally arrived at our destination of Telluride. The weather had partially cleared up, only to have gotten bad again. I swung the plane wide to make the approach. Full flaps, landing gear down.

 

We were too low, I could see it. I pulled the gear back up and shoved the throttle levers forward; it wasn't enough. The underbelly of the plane scraped the ground. We bounced once and hit the ground hard. The plane spun around and I blacked out.

 

Who is reading? Enjoying? Feedback?

What happened next came in bits and flashes.

 

My next recollection was that I was checking into a bed and breakfast. I stirred and my eyes opened.

 

"There you are," came voice.

 

In front of me appeared a nurse. She was black with glasses and wearing blue scrubs. She put two fingers against my wrist. "Do you know where you are?"

 

"I'm at a b-n-b," I said. then the fog lifted from my brain a little. "No...I'm at the hospital."

 

"That's right," she said with a nod. "And do you remember why you're here?"

 

"The plane...it crashed." I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

 

"That's right..." she began, but I never heard the rest.

 

I opened my eyes again to find Lisa sitting near the foot of the bed, thumbing through a magazine, coffee on the table next to her. I tried to speak but my mouth was dry. I guess she noticed because she looked up.

 

"You gave me a bit of a scare." She walked over to the bed and looked down.

 

"How long?" I finally croaked.

 

"It's been about three days."

 

I tried to sit up but my head was still swimming. Lisa waited until a nurse came, though it wasn't the one I had seen previously, who helped me. They wouldn't let me stand on my own, instead insisting that I use a walker to get around, which I did for the better part of the day until I felt strong enough to try on my own. I took a few ginger steps, and kept one hand on the wall to stop myself from falling. Pretty soon I was able to get around without help.

 

Lisa was waiting when I went to check myself out.

 

"So when do we go to look in on...whoever?" I asked.

 

Lisa laughed. "You've been laid up here, I've been busy getting things done. I looked in on things the day after we got here. I don't know how much was going on when Joan still lived here, but there's nothing left but a few street level players."

 

"Coming here was a waste of time?"

 

"Not completely," Lisa shook her head. "When the police got involved, they told us where they got their supply. I've been in touch with the agency, and I think we've got a few solid leads. I'm still going to need your help."

 

"In for a penny..." I said.

 

"Glad to hear it, we've got some work ahead of us."

Thanks to Lisa's people skills, and I assume her good credit, we rented a plane to get us back to Denver, a King Air which had lots of power to get us over the mountains. I admit that I got a little turned around at Denver, and wasn't as close to the airport as I thought. But then I got it down and we parked.

 

Lisa arranged for tickets for another flight, and stopped for coffee (seriously, this woman has a problem,) before joining me as we waited. We ended up on an Orbit flight to Mexico City. It's really something, as much as a city like Los Angeles was spread out and hard to find the way around, Mexico City was a whole other level.

 

We caught a taxi at the airport; it was pink and white. Then it pulled away from the airport, and we started the long drive. The congestion was incredible, and the progress was so slow.

 

But eventually the car pulled to the side of the road next to a one story, brown house.

 

 

As I reached for the door, Lisa grabbed my arm and whispered to me. "Be careful, this isn't a good area." Not the type of thing I wanted to hear. We got out and waited for a chance to cross the road. Lisa knocked on the door and a heavy set man with grey hair opened it, a cigar dangled from his lips.

 

"Si?" he said.

 

Lisa spoke in broken Spanish. I don't speak more than a few words, and even I knew that she was doing pretty terrible.

His name was José. That was about all my limited Spanish could make out, and to be honest, I was pretty impressed with myself that I could figure out even that much.

 

He listened to Lisa try to talk to him for a minute or two before turning with a shrug towards the interior. Another voice spoke, and he waved us in. Inside the small room were four people, all of them smoking and the room was thick cigar smoke. I felt like I was going to be sick.

 

The bunch of them spoke for a while, I held back and had no idea what they were saying; they could have been plotting the end of the world or trading recipes for cookies.

 

They continued for a long time. I needed air and stepped outside, leaving the door open. The air in Mexico City is pretty horrible, but even it was better than the smoke that permeated the room. After a while I heard movement behind and as I looked, they were rising from the table. Lisa looked between each of them before joining me. The door slammed behind her.

 

Without a word, she had her phone out, tapping away, and Lisa didn't speak another word to me for a while, as an Uber pulled up. The car swung into traffic, as we made the long, slow trip back to the airport. She was still silent, staring out the window.

 

"Tell me something," I said.

 

She looked slowly in my direction. "They gave me some bad news."

 

"What?"

 

"There's a thing going on between the cartels, and it's getting bad. They said it'll probably come to a head any day now, and when it does, it won't be pretty."

You're probably asking "what does that mean?" The truth is, your guess would be as good as mine.

 

Lisa was quiet, I would go as far as to say sullen, for the rest of the trip. We made our way back to Washington D.C., and to DEA headquarters. Once again, we went to the top floor, and into the same meeting room I'd seen on my previous visit. The room was empty, a table sat in the middle, a dozen chairs surrounded it, with additional ones against the walls.

 

The walls were painted an off-white, while a worn industrial carpet covered the floor; it was stained in a few places were people hadn't been careful. There was a window in one corner of the room, which I hadn't noticed before. I looked out, and a long way below I could see the street, although I couldn't remember the name off the top of my head. The traffic was moving at a pretty good pace for that time of day, and the sidewalks were bustling.

 

Lisa sat about midway along the table and I took the seat next to her. I could feel air coming from the vent above, and the breeze was somewhat refreshing. It was then that others began to fill the room, and one by one, each chair was occupied.

 

A man stepped to the front of the room. He was tall and slender with grey hair, wearing a crisp, green military uniform, onto which several medals were pinned. He cleared his throat and the gentle murmur of conversation in the room, which I hadn't noticed until then, faded away.

 

"Once again," he began, "We are gathered here due to the efforts of agent Samson." He gestured toward Lisa and she nodded her head to the room. He began an explanation of what he continued to refer to as the "situation," using a lot of jargon which the others seemed to comprehend. I, on the other hand, was a little lost.

 

But I got the basics. At least two rival groups, whose names I'm not going to disclose, had been running drug across the border for years. Once the head had been cut off of one group, the other was moving to take over, they weren't going to win without a fight. There was the potential for civilian casualties, and possibly a lot of them.

 

Many of those gathered were assigned teams they would lead, Lisa was one of them. With that, we were dismissed.

I'd really like to tell you all the things that happened next, how we prepared for the next phase. But there are some security issues involved, and I really don't want to spend the rest of my life in some prison.

 

But after a while, we were back in the air, to a destination soon to be revealed.

 

Loaded with equipment and personnel, we flew from Washington all the way to Laredo, Texas.

 

From the airport, we drove south until the River was directly ahead, a bridge dividing the countries of Mexico and the United States. Lisa held up one hand and our small convoy came to a halt.

 

We climbed out of the vehicles and took up positions, where we could just see the bridge. Although I hadn't noticed it until just then, most of the people in the area had been cleared out, and I admit I was pretty terrified about what was to come.

 

One person appeared on the bridge, then another and another until there was a whole crowd. They were carrying weapons.

 

Lisa motioned with her hand and several of our group stood and fired. I clamped my hand over my ears at the din. One of the men just ahead of me fell and Lisa hurried to his side. As she reached him, she spun around as blood spurted from her head.

 

I didn't know what to do, Despite myself, I was on my feet and I hurried from one covered location to the next, leaving the scene behind. How I wasn't picked off like the others, I still don't know.

 

I didn't stop moving until I found myself at the perimeter of a small, grass airfield. There was a small plane parked at one end of the runway, while a boy no older than a teen ager stood not far away. I crept up, keeping to the trees as long as I could, then darted to the plane. I started the engine, catching the boy's attention. He came running to the plane as I shoved the throttle forward. I left him behind as I climbed away.

 

As I flew that little Cessna, a few things occurred to me. First, I remembered how infrequent it was that I flew something that small. Second, that I was much more used to being behind the controls of something a lot faster, and it was taking a long time to get anywhere..

 

With time, clouds began to gather overhead, and drizzle appeared on the windshield. It grew heavier and heavier and before long it was coming down in big, fat drops that made it hard to see. I looked down and saw the outline of a city below, with the shape of an a small airport to the north. I pulled the throttle to idle and set the trim for a steep descent. I flew past the field and then made a steep left turn to line up with the runway.

 

A slight crosswind tried to blow me off the centerline and I had to act quickly to counter it. As the wheels touched the pavement, the water made braking a little spongy, but I had more than enough time to pull onto one of the taxiways on the right. I parked and climbed down, staying under the wing to keep myself dry as I looked around.

 

 

I was then that a flash of lightning lit the sky. I counted the seconds and was only at seven when the clap of thunder followed. That meant it was close, and I had gotten myself down just in time.

 

Sometimes it's funny how things work out. If I hadn't stopped at that little place on that particular day, I'd have never met Bruce.

Well, your tall tales of flying machines always get a two thumbs up from me!

Thanks so much! I appreciate your feedback and would love to hear from any others who are reading as well. :) :)

I'm no fool. Once the lightning started, I moved pretty quickly so that I wasn't standing under those metal wings. The odds were slim, but I didn't want to be hanging around should a bolt happen to hit.

 

I ducked my head and ran toward a nearby hangar. It was made of wood, and had yellow lettering at the front. But the paint was so faded I couldn't make out what they might have once said. The sound of someone tinkering greeted me even before I got to the door, and though I tried to be quiet, I had obviously caught someone's attention.

 

It was a man in blue coveralls, who was making adjustments to a little taildragger with enormous off-road tires.

 

 

"I'm sorry," I said as he looked over at me. "I'm just trying to..I'm just...never mind." I turned to leave but the rain was still pouring down. I looked back.

 

"I've seen that face before," he said. "The face of a man with troubles." I couldn't disagree. "Who are you running from?" He peered at me. "It's not a woman, it's about...money?"

 

I shook my head, not sure how much to tell him. "It's...the government."

 

With that a smile crossed his grizzled face. "Well anyone who has a problem with them is a friend of mine. The name's Bruce." He reached a hand toward me. I lifted my fingers with the intention of just brushing up against him and then pulling away, but he grabbed my hand and shook vigorously.

Edited April 9, 2021 by andyjohnston

We were like peas and carrots.

 

What movie is it where they keep saying that? Well Bruce and I were not like peas and carrots. We were like oil and water. We should not have gotten along, but we did.

 

We sat in that hangar and we talked and talked. The rain that was pouring down and forced me to land let up, and then stopped. Darkness fell, and Bruce invited me to stay with him for the night. So we piled into a beat up, red Ford pickup truck and trundled along a series of dirt roads until we came to his trailer nestled just off to one side. I spent the night sleeping on...I wouldn't quite call it a couch.

 

And i woke the next morning to the smell of breakfast. Bruce served me eggs along with some kind of potatoes. I don't usually eat breakfast but I wasn't going to refuse Bruce's hospitality.

 

"You know," he said to me, his mouth stuffed with food. "I was thinking about it last night. I think I know someone who can help us."

 

"Us?"

 

"Well I'm not leaving you now."

 

I didn't know it, but I would end up staying in touch with Bruce for a long time.

 

We were soon back in his truck and on the road. In the darkness, I hadn't noticed the fine details of his ride. The paint was faded and rusted, and the seats had tears being held together with duct tape.

 

He brought me to an airstrip which was dotted with small planes.

 

He drove me out to one particular apron, and as we came around the corner, I was faced with something I was not expecting to see.

 

Bruce stomped on his brakes as he came skidding around the corner in a move that looked like he had picked up watching the Dukes of Hazzard. We had barely come to a stop and Bruce already had the engine turned off as he almost jumped from the truck.

 

"Hey Sammy," he shouted. "Sammy, where are ya?" At first there was no response and Bruce cupped his hands around his mouth before starting again.

 

A slim man with salt-and-pepper hair ducked around the corner of the plane in front of us. "I'm right here, you don't need to be hollerin'"

 

Bruce half turned to look at me while pointing a finger. "I told you he'd help us. This is Sammy. Sammy this is a friend of mine." His expression turned dead serious as I strode to his side. "Sammy," Bruce said, "We need your help, and we need your plane."

 

Sammy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Bruce, how many times I done told you this isn't my plane? I just work on it."

 

"Well then let us in to take a look."

 

Sammy looked between the two of us. "Well alright, just a look though." He let the way around one side where he pulled down the steps to the interior. Bruce pushed me ahead then dragged Sammy up before closing the door.

 

"Hey," Sammy tried to object. "What do you think you're doin'?"

 

Bruce pushed us both into the cockpit then shoved me into the pilot's seat.. Sammy," he said, "We just want to look. What would we do if we wanted to see all the numbers?"

 

Sammy raised an eyebrow before pointing to two switches. "First that one, then this one here."

 

"Go ahead," Bruce urged me. I flipped the two switches and the panel came to life. "Perfect," Bruce said. He pressed a few buttons and the whine of the jet engines filled the plane. He shoved a knob in and the red "Parking Brake" indicator on the panel blinked off. Bruce gave the plane some power, and we were rolling along the taxiway.

The plane was screaming down the taxiway, and as much as I wanted to slow it down, Bruce wouldn't let me pull the throttle levers. So I set the flaps and pulled back. Behind me, I heard the door open along with the rush of escaping air. I don't know where Sammy thought he was going, but Bruce leapt from his seat and into the cabin.

 

I rolled the plane hard to the right, using the rudder to keep control. I looked over my shoulder to see Bruce pull Sammy away from the door, and then it was closed. With a glance behind, I saw the two wrestling with each other until Bruce overpowered the smaller man. I straightened the plane out as Bruce came back to the co-pilot's seat.

 

For a plane so sleek looking, it was slow. There was no auto-throttle so I had to manage the speed manually, but even flying right at the red line, we were going so slow I knew it was going to take us a while to get anywhere.

I must've said more to Bruce than I thought I had, because we flew that plane all the way to Washington.

 

We parked and Bruce hailed us a cab, and it took only a few minutes to be back at DEA headquarters.

 

Much like before, I'd really like to tell you what happened next, but it's all hush-hush. I can't tell a word. Suffice it to say...

 

 

No? I can't even say that. Well I guess we'll just have to fast-forward a couple of hours.

 

 

 

 

The elevator doors opened and I stepped back to the lobby floor. I heard Bruce before I saw him. He was slumped over in a chair, fast asleep and snoring. I gave him a gentle kick as I walked past, and he jumped to his feet, following me out the door.

 

"So?" he asked.

 

I turned to look at him and heaved a sigh. "Looks like I'm in the clear."

 

Bruce laughed as he slapped me on the back. "I knew everything would work out!"

 

With that, we hailed a cab that took me to KDCA, though Bruce stayed in and continued on to the bus station on Massachusetts. I made a stop at Smashburger to grab a cup of coffee in memory of "Lisa" before making my way to the departures area.

 

You might remember I told Lisa I wanted to be paid. And it was about a month later that I saw money had been deposited into my bank account. One dollar, minus the tax.

 

Which reminds of of the time...

 

Well, that's another story.