LIFESTYLE

Getting High with 'Fat Albert'

Tim Forsberg
Posted 6/4/15

Someday, I’m going to die. On that day, if I’m fortunate enough to have all the days of my life flash before me, last Friday will stand out as one of the best.

The day started off like any regular …

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LIFESTYLE

Getting High with 'Fat Albert'

Posted

Someday, I’m going to die. On that day, if I’m fortunate enough to have all the days of my life flash before me, last Friday will stand out as one of the best.

The day started off like any regular workday, but by mid-afternoon I was flying with angels. Blue Angels. And they were preparing for last weekend’s Rhode Island National Guard Open House and Air Show.

About a week prior, the Warwick Beacon received a press release describing events to be held at Quonset prior to the scheduled air show. The invite offered the opportunity to fly in the “Fat Albert.”

The Fat Albert is a United States Marine Corps C-130T Hercules that’s used by the world renowned U.S. Navy Blue Angels for their logistics, to carry equipment, as well as carrying support personnel between the many shows the Blue Angels fly in. The four-propeller plane with rocket-assisted takeoff is operated by a Marine crew of officers and enlisted personnel.

As the special projects guru for the newspaper, I never know where my day will take me. After speaking with my editor, John Howell, about the opportunity, he said to send them a reply and see what happens.

Late Thursday afternoon I finally received a response approving the request that also asked me to fill out a mandatory medical form and to bring it with me. I’ll admit I started to get anxious, which my co-workers and family picked up on and gibed me accordingly.

I spent the remainder of the evening and the following morning trying to focus on other things, which was nearly impossible. I then headed to Quonset for my 1 p.m. flight. This was an event I didn’t want to miss. I wanted to be early and ready, perhaps to take pictures of the day, which was Family Day for the servicemen and women participating at the show.

Arriving at the security gate at noon, I promptly discovered I had forgotten my medical form in haste back at the Beacon office. I was told without it I wouldn’t be able to participate. I “flew” back to the office, grabbed the form, and made it back with a moment to spare.

After navigating through the immense base, I met up by chance with Olivia Fecteau of NBC 10 News, who was also waiting to take part in the flight. She had earlier met with my boss for the Geico Skytypers ride and this was her second flight of the day.

We were eventually merged into a larger group of about two dozen servicemen and women from all branches of the military who were chosen for the flight. We were brought out to inspect the plane and then provided with a safety briefing by Major Dusty Cook, the captain of Fat Albert.

Over the roar of practicing jets and planes nearby, he provided a detailed analysis of the angles, turns, speeds and heights we would achieve. I was able to follow his first two sentences, then got quickly lost in the technicalities. Suffice it to say, the crew would put the plane through all the rigors it could possibly withstand.

“I’m not purposefully trying to make anyone sick today,” said Major Cook to the participants, with what seemed like a huge, truth-defying grin. I swallowed hard, thankful in my choice that I only had Gatorade earlier that day.

Passengers then started to board, but Major Cook asked Olivia and me to stay behind as the servicemen and women filed into the cargo section of the plane. He said he would take us to our seats.

We were the last two to board the plane, when the major directed us to a small bench in the cockpit. I sat down to Olivia’s left, and we strapped our lap belts with assistance. Someone put a postcard-sized brown envelope between us.

“MOTION SICKNESS BAG [For use during moments of upset stomach],” the envelope read. Inside was only one folded up white plastic bag, which we removed. Olivia and I looked at each other and made our best promises not to use it. I swallowed harder.

The engines revved and we began moving. It was then that the totality of the moment really hit me. I’ve experienced times in my life when words have utterly failed me, and this was one.

I was in the cockpit of a plane filled with the best of the best, who worked most of their lives training to sit in the seats in front of me, and it was absolutely humbling to watch them work in synchrony. I wondered how the heck someone like me had such an opportunity.

I quickly sent an expletive-filled text message of excitement to my wife, Christine, who I thought would never believe. We then began moving faster.

After a takeoff like no other I’ve experienced, we were airborne and heading straight up into the sky. A minute later, we experienced zero gravity.

It only lasted for 10 to 15 seconds, but it was something I’ve always wanted to sense and understand. My arms lifted, as did my feet, and my lap belt kept me from floating around. A crewmember jumped around the cockpit for a split second. My stomach was kindly reminded of the Gatorade, and I briefly closed my eyes and laughed at myself. This was beyond any old Rocky Point ride I had ever been on.

A moment later, gravity returned and I was forced back into my seat. Another minute later, we experienced twice the force of gravity as we turned and banked. Where before my arms floated freely, they now felt like lead weights. I struggled to keep my camera steady and in front of me. It was a workout.

I felt like a sock in a dryer. And it was amazing. Brilliant flashes of light and the blue hues of the ocean and sky filled the cabin as the plane dove, turned, climbed, reached peak speeds and then hit a near stall. None of these moves fazed the pilots or crew at all; they had total control.

And I had none. Neither did the two dozen soldiers in the rear of the plane, whose yells and cheers rose above the screams of the engines as we maneuvered.

I tried to take pictures and videos of the experience and was only moderately successful. I feared that I’d lose my phone and camera at any minute. I put them away just before landing, which again was nothing like I’d ever experienced. A nearly straight down dive directly to the tarmac, seemingly stopping on a dime as the smell of burned rubber filled the air.

Just like that the flight was over. It only took 10 minutes, and for me it was life-changing.

Olivia and I were the first off the plane and immediately celebrated that we hadn’t gotten sick. As the soldiers disembarked from the rear of the plane, it became clear that others weren’t so fortunate. Some carried (with pride) full white plastic bags with them, obvious that they were still thrilled to be there.

After a quick post flight briefing with the crew who thanked the flight’s participants, I quietly made my way back to my truck alone, in a total daze which has yet to lift.

I had just flown with the Blue Angels, and I wondered what heights my next adventure would take me on.

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