"Zac would you please stay on a single channel for more than a half a second?" complained Tay as Zac flicked between MTV, VH1, CMT, The Cartoon Network and Fox.

"But there's nothing on!"

"There would be if you'd give it chance!"

Zac frowned and ignored his brother, continuing to prod at the up / down keys on the remote. Tay sighed, got off his beanbag and deftly snatched it out of Zac's hand, and turned to MTV. He flipped the remote upside down, took the batteries out and chucked it back at Zac.

"There, you got something to play with now!"

Zac scowled, but resigned himself to the situation and began to push Gareth's buttons instead. Tay put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his chest. This wasn't the most comfortable of positions, so I kicked off my trainers and lay with my head in his lap, feet propped on the end of the sofa.

Tay sighed and started running his fingers through my hair, my entire body relaxing. I smiled up at his gorgeous face that was looking down on me and smiled back.

"I can see right up your nose from down here."

Tay looked at me for a second, then we both burst out laughing.

"Shhh!" scolded Zac. "I'm trying to watch MTV?"

"Yeah, well you just try takin' me batteries out, Zac!"

"That an offer?"

We eventually settled down and watched the morning edition of MTV news, commenting on how dull and uninteresting Hanson's "Brothers and Sisters of Music" seemed to be today. That is until the last item.

"And news just in some of the roomers that have been circulating about the Hanson brothers may have some substance to them - more on this in our next show at two..."

We all fell silent.

"It's probably nothing," reasoned Ike. "Someone probably followed mom to the supermarket and found that Tay does use a red toothbrush..."

"Morning, guys," said Walker Hanson as he trotted down the steps into the garage.

"Morning, Dad!" greeted Tay, shortly followed by Ike and Zac.

"Where are you taking us?" grinned Zac, bouncing again at the thought that they were about to do something life-threatening.

"Hey, hold on there," smiled Walker. "I haven't met everyone yet! Looks like a slumber party in here!"

He wasn't far off, all the British lads being sprawled over their American counterparts.

"I already know Dean, and if memory serves this is Gareth," he said, looking a rather shy Gareth in the eye. Walker recognised the look from Ike's youth, and decided not to linger with him - for the moment, anyway.

"I'm Tony," grinned Tony, frowning slightly as he tried to extend his right hand but found it trapped between Ike and a beanbag. He gave up and extended his free left arm and received a firm left-handed handshake from a smiling Walker.

"So, what have you guys been up to while you've been away?"

"Weeeell, we went camping," replied Tay, the slight hesitation between the question and his answer causing Walker to raise his eyebrows knowingly, and Tay to blush.

"Zac and I managed to get our house master to join in a pillow fight," smiling at the recollection of Russell being beaten by a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds.

"Yeah," added Zac. "That guy was such a grouch, but he eventually came round..."

"I knew we should have sent that health-warning with you, Zac," smiled Walker, knowing only too well how Zac's exuberant nature often overwhelmed a room full of people, never mind an individual. That man was lucky to still be alive!

"OK, you've met everyone - so tell us we're going already!"

Walker sighed - he had wanted to keep it a secret until they got there, but there wasn't a hope in hell's chance of him managing to keep the car on the road with Zac all over him, not quitting until he got an answer.

"We're going to that new 'park-and-glide' centre a few miles south- east of here near Bixby - they have a set of four-man gliders, a coupe of Cessnas and some microlites. That reminds me - Tay, don't forget to bring your license or they won't let you and Dean up on your own..."

My heart practically bounced out of my mouth with excitement. "You have a pilots' license?!"

"Not exactly," smiled Tay. "I have one that says I can fly in a microlite or a glider without an Instructor as long as we're in radio contact with one on the ground?"

"SERIOUS? YOU NEVER TOLD ME!"

He smiled that mischievous grin. "You never asked!"

"God dammit Zac just SIT DOWN! We're nearly there..." yelled walker as he leapt from side to side of the Pontiac TransSport like he were a dog sniffing scent.

In the back was stacked the customary few cases of video gear to capture the event for posterity along with a positively huge packed lunch Diane had lovingly prepared, the size principally due to the fact that we had Zac with us.

This again was another huge first for me. I'd never flown until yesterday and here I was just about to take a flight a couple of thousand feet up in the air with my gorgeous boyfriend at the controls. Perfect!

My excitement was approaching Zac level as we took the exit that lead neatly onto 81st Street and the airfield. The Ministry of Transport could REALLY take some pointers from the states in my opinion...

We pulled up outside the modestly-sized hangar and piled out, Zac racing up to one of the Cessna trainers that was 'parked' (if that's the right term for a plane) nearest to us.

Tay, Ike and myself unloaded the car and stood excitedly as Walker announced our arrival to one of the staff.

The bloke who greeted us was definitely not the middle aged, just- starting-to-bald guy wearing black shades with gold frames we all had in mind as your stereotypical instructor. In fact, Steff (as we later learned) was the son of one of the other instructors and was nineteen. He was averagely tall, had an athletic build with a gentle face, and (when he wasn't wearing his mirrored ray-bans) had piercing blue eyes, framed by his centre parted, undercut light brown hair. Tay had to dig Ike and Spider in the ribs to get them to quit staring.

As he began his introductory spiel, he introduced himself and explained that his main area of expertise was the Microlites, and hence the gliders and the Cessnas would be left up to the others. He went through the standard safety procedures and the "what not to do" rigmarole as the insurers required. All the way through this, Walker was prancing about with one of the camcorders, yet managing to do it in a well practiced as-subtle-as-possible way.

Two other 'stereotypical' flight instructors walked over to us from the hangar, and were introduced as Kyle and Robert. Ike, Spider, Walker, Gareth and Zac were escorted off towards the glider and the Cessna, whilst we were left in Steff's capable hands.

"So," he smiled, exposing his pearly-white teeth, "I hear you got a training certificate?"

"Uh, yeah," said Tay, fishing the document out of the back pocket of his baggy jeans and handing it to Steff. He took a cursory glance at it over the top of his shades, then handed it back to Tay.

"Your Dad says he wants this filming, but I don't see how you dare take a camcorder up with you..."

"We'll just bolt them on - we haven't lost one yet, unless you count the time Zac wrapped his scrambler round a tree..."

Steff looked visibly intrigued, so Tay put him out of his misery by collecting the final flight case (how appropriate!) of camera gear from the back of the car. He flipped open the top to reveal three 1"x3"x5" camcorders and a set of universal clamp mounts. Expertly, Tay climbed into the microlite and attached one to the 'A' post just in front of the forward seat pointing at the seat itself, one on the crossbar over our heads pointing forwards, and the other directly beside it pointing back and down so that the back seat, engine and a rearwards view would be captured.

He located the intercom box that connected our headsets together and to the radio, and hooked it's 'line out' jack to the input of the camera that was facing him so that anything we said would be heard above the din of the engine and the wind. Finally, he hooked all three cameras up to another medium sized box that he taped securely behind my seat, then fastened the cables to the airframe with releasable zip ties.

"Have you done this before?" I grinned as he shoved the last connector into the back of 'my' camera. My joviality concealed the slight worry I had - this thing looked conspicuously like a frame tent (it was even the same colour!) with a lawn mower engine attached to the back - both objects which were fine on the ground, but would they serve as well at two thousand feet in the air?

Either Steff was very perceptive, or he had dealed with skeptical passengers before. "IT's quite safe, uh..."

"Dean,"

"Dean - it doesn't look like much, but it is very, very strong. More than strong enough to hold the two of you in a loop, anyway."

"Umm, with all due respect, this thing looks like it was made from a kit that comes with instructions along the lines of 'Take wing (a) and attach to fuselage (b) by securing with M4 bold (c), and tighten using cheap, supplied screwdriver (d)...'"

"It was made from a kit..."

HA! I knew it!"

"But it has been checked by one of the manufacturer's engineers and it passed with flying colours, so you've got nothing to worry about except this kid's flying."

Actually, that DID make me feel a whole lot better. After the garden thing, I now just trusted Tay implicitly, even when he did have that evil grin on his face.

"OK, Taylor - everything should be like the other microlites you've flown, but remember this one is a whole lot more powerful! You can afford to ease off on the gas once you're flying quite a lot, OK? If either of you need to talk to me, just push this red button here, OK?" he said, pointing at two buttons labeled "R-TX" on the sides of the seats. He picked up the helmets and chucked them at each of us, making sure that the straps were securely fastened.

"You got anything warmer than those sweaters?"

"Dammit no," scowled Tay, having forgotten how cold it got when you're up in the air.

"OK, hold on," Steff disappeared into the hangar and emerged a moment later with a pair of well-used leather jackets.

"I want these back," he smiled. "OK, Taylor, Dean - I've already done all the pre-flight checks so just get yourselves strapped in and then you're clear for takeoff on runway one-eight-zero..."

Tay positively leapt into the front seat and plugged the trailing wire from his helmet into the socket by the side of his head, and proceeded to connect the ends of the five-point harness. I climbed in behind him, not failing to notice the way the whole thing seemed to groan and bend under my weight, but decided that if Walker was comfortable with it, I guess it'd be OK.

Tay had settled in, and was busy aquatinting himself with the layout of the controls: The flight stick directly between his legs (lucky thing!) and the throttle and brakes by his heft hand. Steff put on his headset and scared the living crap outta me as his voice crackled into my ears at an unbelievable volume, causing both him and Tay to laugh.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner to Meadowbrook airfield: Steff, can you switch that switch on the black box behind Dean's seat, please, over."

"Meadowbrook to foxtrot six-four-niner: can do, Taylor. Radio test is loud and proud. Proceed to North end of runway and await clearance. Have fun, guys! Over."

Oh God, it was happening. Tay shoved the throttle over to full, twisted the Mags switch to "both" and pushed the starter. The flimsy craft shook violently from side to side for a couple of seconds shortly before the engine farted noisily into life, quickly returning to an idle as Tay throttled back.

"You ready?" asked Tay's bandwidth-limited voice through my headset, as he twisted around as much as his harness would allow - enough to see the immense excitement on his face.

"Uh, as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, shaking with both excitement and apprehension.

"OK, here goes"

The engine revved again as the throttle was gently opened, the microlite trundling over the shale onto the smooth tarmac surface of the main runway. We started to gently taxi down past the hangars, both waving violently to the others as we passed them, Walker racing out of their midst to get in a good position to capture our ascent.

We reached the white stripes at the end of the strip and did a leisurely U-turn, lining up for our take-off.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner to Meadowbrook: Request clearance for take- off."

"Meadowbrook to foxtrot six-four-niner" replied a new voice that I assumed was what could laughably be called air traffic control for the airfield "there is a slight 3-knott tail wind and conditions are clear - you are clear for take-off."

"Here goes,"

The engine spun up to its full revs as Tay gave it gas, the propeller behind me drumming the air causing my whole body to vibrate. This was soon accompanied by the rhythmic 'ker-thump' of the sections of runway passing underneath the wheels, the frequency getting higher and higher as we accelerated towards the hedge at the now-not-so-far end of the field. Suddenly, I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach as Tay pulled back on the stick, lifting first the nose wheel then the two rear wheels off the ground. We were flying.

I looked from left to right and saw the ground vanishing very quickly from beneath us. This was SO COOL!

I was speechless as we gracefully climbed into the air, leveling off after a couple of minutes. The roar of the wind and the vibration from the engine soon paled into insignificance as I drank up the unbelievable feeling of "defying" the law of gravity, and jumped as Tay's smooth voice burst into my headset once again.

"Ever see 'Flight of the Navigator'?"

"Huh?"

"The film 'Flight of the Navigator'..."

"Yeah, why?"

"Watch."

Tay banked to the right and descended towards the highway, gently following the road's right-hand curve round. It was so strange to look down and see the highway beneath us, the cars beneath us occasionally being eclipsed by the tiny shadow we cast on to them. We followed the highway due west, then broke off and banked right again as we approached the Arkansas River, dropping lower to tree height. It seemed so surreal - zapping along the river, getting literally a bird's eye view as Tay expertly piloted our little craft slap bang in the centre of the band of water.

"Umm, Tay - is that a bridge in front of us?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

A pause.

"Tay, you're not going to..."

"What do you think I am?"

"OK, just checking..."

I relaxed and began looking left and right again, enjoying the blur of the scenery. That is until I realised we were a whole lot closer to the water than we were a moment ago. I looked dead ahead to see the bridge flick across the top of the wing, and I had to twist around just to make sure I'd seen that right.

"TAYLOR! You said you weren't gonna do that!"

"No I didn't," came the very smug and equally as correct response. "Wanna go again?" he giggled.

I just smiled and shook my head, now too buzzed on adrenaline to actually object. Suddenly, Tay shoved the throttle hard open and yanked the stick back, sending the microlite into a forty-five degree climb whilst gently turning back on ourselves, the river literally dropping away beneath us.

"Foxtrot six-four-niner from Meadowbrook: How's it goin', Taylor?"

"I want one, over!" laughed Tay.

"Good, glad your enjoying yourself! Listen, your dad wants to catch up so he can film you in the air, OK? What is your position, over."

"We are about a half a mile north of the Jenks Bridge, climbing to nine-hundred feet, over."

"Acknowledged: The Cessna will be in the area in about three minutes, over."

"Thanks, Steff! Over and out."

We leveled out again, the engine returning to a more subdued level, gently circling. All of Tulsa could be seen, the sun glinting off some of the taller buildings in the CBD.

A couple of moments later, the Cessna roared past us, followed by Walker's voice in our headsets.

"Lookin' good there, son,"

"This is GREAT dad!"

"Hi Taylor this is Robert - can you speed up a bit? You're going a bit too slow for us to get a steady enough flight, over."

"Sure, man - I'll head back south down the river, over."

"A bit too slow?" I asked.

"You gotta remember we have all the aerodynamics of a Klingon's forehead! The Cessna is designed to fly a lot faster than we do: But this is way more fun!"

Tay turned us around and opened the throttle again, the Cessna easily catching us up, then stationholding on our starboard side. Everyone in the plane was waving frantically at us, Gareth and Zac fighting over who got the seat by the window on our side for the next half-second. Walker had the camera pointed directly at us, so we obliged him by waving back.

It was such a strange sensation flying side by side, almost as if we weren't moving, yet the roar of the wind dictating otherwise.

"Thanks, Taylor," continued Walker as he awkwardly clambered out of the front seat, only to be replaced by an inanely grinning Zac. "We're letting Zac fly for a while, so if we're lucky we'll see you back at Meadowbrook in an hour or so, OK? Over."

"Good luck, guys - you'll need it, over."

"Hey, that is NOT fair! I'm just as good as you are, Tay."

"Yeah, so why didja forget the 'over', moron? Over."

The laughter could be seen, but not heard.

"Whatever - I can go faster than you, OVER" smiled Zac at us as the Cessna pulled effortlessly away from us.

"We'll see you soon, over and out."

We followed the river south again, although this time steadily climbing, the air becoming noticeably colder the higher we climbed.

"You strapped in well, Dean?"

I tugged at the belt tensioners over my shoulders and ensured the centre fastener was in the 'locked' position.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just checkin'"

"WOAAAAAAHHHHSHIIIIIITT!" I yelled as Tay yanked the stick hard left, barrel-rolling us and then going into a steep dive, then pulling back and doing a loop-the-loop before returning to the steady climb.


On to Chapter Thirty

Back to Chapter Twenty-Eight

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The Exchange is © 1999 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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