Fancy a Flight?: Reporter takes ride in stunt plane and finds that he doesn't have the stomach for it

If you ignore a question long enough, sometimes it just goes away.

In this case, the question in question posed by an editor didn't seem to be a life-and-death matter: "Would you go up in a plane with a pilot who'll be in town to promote the Winston-Salem Air Show?"

That was last week.

Two days ago, the question -- much like an annoying rash -- returned, this time with renewed urgency. "The flight's at noon Wednesday. The pilot is an Iraq veteran. Want to go?"

It sounded simple enough. The pilot was Maj. John Klatt of the Air National Guard. He has logged more than 13,000 hours, flown F-16s "Fighting Falcons" in Iraq and C-130 transport plans in Operation Desert Storm, and works as a commercial pilot. "Give me 20 minutes to think about it," I replied. All the while I'm thinking, "This guy's piloting a stunt plane designed to do flips, loops and, God knows, what else.... I'll fly when pigs fly."

Insurance paid up

Just after noon yesterday, I'm walking toward a two-seat Extra-300L, a high-performance aerobatic plane.

I don't even like to fly on jumbo jets. I turned green on a roller coaster at the Kentucky State Fair a few years ago. Playing my son's James Bond video game made me queasy. And they're shooting video of this? (Yeah, you can see it online. Swell.)

It's a long-standing game as old as public relations. Take some schmuck local reporter for a preshow ride. He (or she) gets an easy -- and hopefully entertaining -- story, and readers (potential customers) are alerted that the Winston-Salem Air Show is nigh.

Everybody wins. Unless the reporter encounters midflight stomach turbulence.

The air show is in its second year back in its familiar September spot at Smith Reynolds. It had a hiatus in 2006 and 2007.

The first Winston-Salem Air Show was held in 1911. Along the way, it has attracted daredevil aviator Charles Lindbergh in 1927, and the U.S. Navy's Blue Angels jet team.

Before this weekend is out, thousands should turn out to see vintage aircraft on the ground and in the air.

Klatt's show -- billed in advance promotional material as "high-energy maneuvers that seem to defy gravity" -- is one of dozens of attractions. Only a lucky few get the chance to ride in the Extra.

"If you get sick, you won't be the first, and you won't be the last," Klatt said during his preflight briefing. "Just don't lose the airsick bag up there -- it'll make a mess."

Preflight pep talks

None of the other preflight "pep talks" worked, either. My 14-year-old daughter said not to worry -- but then asked if she could get a car with the insurance money should the plane crash.

A friend at the YMCA put it best yesterday morning when I described the plan for the day: "You're an idiot," he said.

The harness is strapped in tight, and I've got a parachute strapped to my back. That's merely a legal decoration, because if this plane goes down, I'm going with it. I'm wedged in the seat so tight that it would take Houdini 10 minutes to get out sitting still.

We were about to hurtle down the runway, and all I could think of was: "The stool softener was next to the Dramamine at the drugstore. I should have bought it, too."

Once airborne, Klatt started to talk into his headset -- to me, the flight tower and perhaps the startled bald eagle that flew between the stunt plane and a second aircraft carrying two photographers.

The flight itself was fine, as long as Klatt kept it right-side-up. A couple of short maneuvers called torque rolls weren't awful.

A stunning sight

"We did something called an aileron roll," he said afterward. "We pulled the nose up and did a 360 (degree) roll. Then we did the inverted flight, of course."

Of course, that's when things went fuzzy. Looking down at the green-and-brown patches of what had to be Davidson County several thousand feet below while completely upside down was a stunning sight -- once I had opened my eyes, that is.

I stammered something about skipping the loops, and Klatt turned north back toward Smith Reynolds. The rush of sweet, fresh air when he opened the plane's canopy on the runway helped stave off what can be described only as the Godzilla of airsickness.

Back on the ground, safely in the swank, fully stocked mobile home in which Klatt's crew cruises the country, our pilot talked about his job.

"It is a kind of a tool for marketing the Air Guard, sure," Klatt said. "It's good for our recruiters and retention specialists, and I get to tell kids about all the cool stuff the Guard has to offer. Kind of like Santa Claus."

Maybe. But I can't recall any accounts of Rudolph leading Claus' sleigh through a few barrel rolls as he turns green in a passenger seat.

■ Scott Sexton can be reached at 727-7481 or at ssexton@wsjournal.com.