Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Thunderbirds Over Miramar - The Sound of Freedom

Sunday October 14, 2007

San Diego, CA - My son and I love to go to air shows. We wanted make sure we caught one this year since it had been a couple of years since our last trip. Edwards Air Force Base did not have their Open House this year, so we set our sights on Miramar. After looking up the performers on the Internet, we learned that the Blue Angels would not be performing. The show, billed as "Thunderbirds Over Miramar - The Sound of Freedom", was going to feature the USAF Thunderbirds. It was the first time in 35 years that the Thunderbirds had performed at Miramar. Usually the Blue Angels fly here but this year they were at Kaneohe Bay in Hawaii.

Today marked several anniversaries. First, the Air Force turned 60 this year. Most air shows featuring the Thunderbirds had some sort of recognition of the milestone. Second, it was 60 years ago, to the day, that Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier up in the high desert of California in the Bell X-1 rocket plane he named Glamorous Glennis. Most of the fighter jets flying today are designed to fly at Mach 1 speeds and beyond. The F-22 Raptor, which only flew Friday, does it without afterburner.

Compared to today's technology, the F-15 Eagle is ancient. But it doesn't know that. The F-15 was starting its demo when we parked. When it kicked in the afterburners, nothing was safe from the noise. It was LOUD! It was so loud that the echo off the building we were in line next to actually whistled. I have never heard that before. Maybe an acoustician out there can explain this phenomenon to me. Anyways, that Eagle flexed it muscles, proving it had more than enough thrust to get the job done. During one low-level pass, the F-15 turned and headed out over the parking lot where we were standing, setting off just about every car alarm on base. He circled back, almost right overhead, burners lit. He was so close and moving so fast that it was hard to follow him. He flew directly over the crowd at show center, probably scaring the mess out of some poor unaware spectators.

The F-117 Nighthawk, aka the Stealth Fighter, was actually silent compared to the F-15. Its routine was much less spectacular. But, looking at it from the element-of-surprise point of view, you could see how the Nighthawk can be as effective at its job as it is. It made one quiet, high-speed pass, causing my son to remark that you wouldn't know this plane was around until it was right overhead; in other words, too late. Hmmm. Sounds like what the Nighthawk pilots themselves said. "The only way you know the F-117 is in the area is when things start blowing up."

One thing I did notice at this air show was the visible increase in corporate advertising and sponsorship. Several resort communities had tents up, one offering a chance to win a Hawaiian getaway. They had video touchscreens to enter your contact info and survey answers. The company reps gave everyone a magnetic card when they entered the gate, which you swiped in the reader attached to the video screen. Inside the hangar there seemed to be more non-military exhibits than military ones. Even a dentist had a space.

Another thing new (to me anyway) was the use of jumbo screens which displayed some of the action. They were hung from skylift forklifts. We were treated to cockpits views, helmet cam views, interviews, views of the announcer, etc. Which is a nice touch, but they blocked our view of some of the ground action. Several of the photos I took had peak action like smoke from the landing gear tires the instant the jet touched down, or one of the Golden Knights stretching for the ground as he landed. But they also had half of the jumbo screen in the photo, or worse, the action was completely obscured. It would be better if the screens were placed behind the grandstands so that spectators in the static display areas could see. Unlike at a sports venue where the jumbotrons are along a wall or hung from the ceiling, there's really no place to put these screens where they won't block views of the flightline.

As with most air shows, there were many booths where spectators could buy pins, posters, t-shirts, and, of course, food. Johnsonville Big Taste Grill, billed as "The World's Largest Grill. Period", was here. It was huge! Certainly no reason to doubt their claim. Unfortunately I didn't get to try one of their brats because they had closed right after the show ended.

Nearing the seating area, we heard the familiar sound of Shockwave warming up. Shockwave Jet Truck is a tri-jet Peterbilt truck that runs at over 300 mph. Sporting 3 Pratt & Whitney J34 engines, Shockwave set a record for trucks at 376 mph. Driver Ken Shockley usually races other planes. From a standing start, he can catch and overtake flying aircraft who have challenged him to a race. Today's victim, er, challenger was Bill Reesman in his Red Bull sponsored MiG 17F. We saw most of Reesman's performance but since we hadn't gotten to our seats yet, we didn't see the actual race. But we could clearly see all the smoke Shockwave generated. Shockwave ran again later in the day, this time solo.

The Army's Golden Knights Parachute Team officially opened the show. A lone jumper parachuted down with the flag, while the Red Baron Stearman Squadron circled around her. Once the jumper landed, the opening ceremonies began with the singing of the National Anthem. Since our jumper, Hal as she's called, had a birthday yesterday, the announcer led the crowd in singing "Happy Birthday" to her. She also recently received a promotion, for which the announcer congratulated her.

Sean Tucker is, in my opinion, hands down, the best aerobatic pilot anywhere. What he able to do in his new custom-built Oracle Challenger is absolutely incredible. It has to be seen to be appreciated. Planes simply aren't supposed to do what he makes the Challenger do. Pilots aren't supposed to be able to withstand the kinds of forces he subjects himself to.

I had never seen the Patriot Jet Team before. They perform in L-39's, a two-seat trainer. They have a unique red, white, a blue smoke pattern that is absolutely striking when set off against their black paint scheme and a blue sky. One of their signature maneuvers is called a "Tail Slide" where the jet climbs vertically until it stalls, then actually slides backward (downward) on its tail for a second before flipping nose down and resuming flight. No other jet team does this. Only a couple of jets in the world can even attempt this maneuver and survive.

Air show photographers love two types of days. One is a clear day with nothing but blue skies. Aircraft really stand out in photographs with a deep blue sky as a background. The other is days with moisture in the air. Days like today. When the jets made high-speed passes and high-G turns, condensation vapors pours off the wings and stabilizers. When caught at the right instant, it makes for remarkable images. My favorite shot today was catching the F/A 18 Super Hornet during a high subsonic pass. It created a cone of condensation around the body. Yeah! Shots like this are why I love shooting airplanes.

Several others performed throughout the day. One thing I love about Miramar is that there is almost continual flying. Something is always up in the air, or taxiing preparing to get in the air.

MAGTF (Marine Air-Ground Task Force) is a simulated assault from the air and ground. A whole military arsenal is unleashed upon the base. Tankers refuel choppers and jets. Helos drop troops. Hornets and Harriers bomb targets. Heavy lift transports bring in armored vehicles and more troops. While the Marines conducted this exercise for the crowd it wasn't hard to imagine what a real assault looks and sounds like.

By this time the clouds had started to roll in from the northwest. The Red Baron Stearman Squadron had to make a couple of slight changes in their routine because the clouds blocked the spectators' view of them. It was a trade-off; more clouds blocked more and more of the sky but the darker skies and cooler weather made for some hot (no pun intended) afterburner shots when the jets flew.

Last year the Thunderbirds featured the first female military demonstration team pilot. Major Nicole Malachowski flies Right Wing in Thunderbird number 3. She returns for her sophomore season, again at right wing, but is joined by another female pilot, Major Samantha Weeks. Major Weeks flies Thunderbird number 6, Opposing Solo.

As the clouds thickened, only a small patch of blue remained in the sky toward the southeast. Low clouds forced the Thunderbirds to run their short program, which I had never seen before. To give you an idea of how low the clouds were: Major Weeks does a high-speed transition on take-off. She barrels westward down the runway in full afterburner, raises the landing gear and holds it a few feet off the deck. She then she pulls back on the stick, transitioning into a vertical climb. Literally two seconds after pulling up, she vanished into the clouds. Because of the low clouds, the Thunderbirds didn't do their bomb burst or any of the other high-altitude maneuvers.

Getting off the base was slow, which was to be expected. What was not expected was a crash on the northbound I-15 at North County. It took 90 minutes to drive 8 miles. The F-15 could have made it all the way to Washington, D.C. by then. Even with the shortened schedule at the hands of Mother Nature, this was another excellent air show at Miramar.

For the men and women who have served our country, THANK YOU! For the men and women out there in harm's way, THANK YOU! For the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice, THANK YOU!

Update: This blog has moved to a new location. Click here to continue following this blog.

Smart Growth?

August 15, 2007

Angelenos can't get anywhere as it is. And now they want to pack even more people into already congested areas? Why are our elected officials pushing 'smart growth' when we don't have the transportation infrastructure to support it? The people making these decision should be made to drive their vehicles during rush hour from outlying cities like Simi Valley, Fontana, Garden Grove, or Corona, into the very areas they've targeted for high-density developments. They should be made to make the drive for six months before approving any more so-called 'smart growth' projects.

LA Weekly's David Zahniser wrote an very eye-opening article entitled "What's Smart About Smart Growth?" Be sure to read all of the related articles under the "More On Smart Growth" heading in the yellow sidebar to get the full effect what the future holds for L.A. residents.

The whole premise of 'smart growth' is for residents who live in these dwellings to give up their cars and use public transit. Fat chance of that happening. First, the transit system has to be in place and reliable. MTA's proposed Expo Line may have just been dealt a fatal blow in a budget-slashing session by our state's lawmakers. For the whole story, check out this LA Weekly article "Sacramento Bites Back".

Things got worse last Friday when the state budget finally got approved. Lawmakers conducted a $1.3 billion ambush on the funds generated by sales tax on gasoline - funds that were supposed to be used for badly-needed transportation projects - and used the booty to help balance the budget. Where's the proportional cut-back in development plans? At this rate, our highly-anticipated high-speed rail project will never get off the ground. Smart growth planners continue to write checks the City cannot cash.

What's the saddest part about all of this? Unless you read publications like the LA Weekly, listen to local public radio, or search for blogs like this one, you will never hear about major projects like 'smart growth'. You will never hear about how they will radically change the face of the city you live in and drastically affect the quality of your life… until it's too late.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

11 Days in Jamaica - Last Day

Sunday June 24, 2007

Today is our last day in Jamaica. After breakfast I decided to take a walk around Ochee. Since it was an early Sunday morning there were very few people out. It was nice and quiet. I had to force myself to slow down and really take everything in. For some reason I walked an extra block eastward toward A3 highway. During my previous 5 trips here, I had never walked out on this street before. Of course, everything was closed but I was still enjoying seeing all the businesses for the first time.

When I got to the highway, one of the newspaper persons was selling the Sunday Observer. I decided to buy a copy to read on the way back to the airport. It also gave me a chance to spend some of my Jamaican coinage.

Turning back northward, I walked up a street I had only driven by in the past. Everything seemed new to me although I knew all of it had always been there. I must have passed at least 3 churches on my short walk. Then I passed one in a tiny strip mall.

Why this particular church caught my attention, I do not know. Maybe God knew that the message from this one church is one I needed to hear. So I drew closer to the door.

The church was packed all the way to the back door. Although it was a typically hot Caribbean morning and a bit more humid than usual, it was still packed. There were four or five floor fans blowing full force. Parishioners fanned themselves with paper fans. I couldn’t help but think how many Americans are sitting in big, air-conditioned churches right now. Would they still come to church if it was 90 degrees/75% humidity outside with no air conditioning inside?

One of the ushers invited me inside. I thanked her, but declined, explaining that our group was leaving in about half an hour. Even though I was standing outside the door, I was not alone.

Inside the preacher was delivering his sermon, which could be heard from where I was standing. He was drenched in sweat, his clothes looking like he had just taken a shower in them. But he was undeterred by the heat. He was fervently preaching about love. “Love without action,” he said, “is deceitful.” He gave a few contemporary scenarios. Time had gone by so fast that I didn’t realize it was time to get back to the hotel already.

One of my regrets is that I had never been able to attend a church service while in Jamaica. We’ve always had to perform or leave on Sundays. Next year, if I am blessed enough to return to Ochee, I think I will try to attend a service at this church.

We loaded up the equipment truck and headed back to Mo Bay and the airport. I was glad see to that the stretch of road from Falmouth eastward was finished. It was good to ride on a smooth road for a change. We got to the airport, got our equipment and ourselves checked in, got through security, and waited for the boarding call.

Unlike last year, this time we had plenty of time after checking in. Some band members snoozed in the chairs downstairs while others shopped. I stopped in at Jamaica Farewell and bought my usual bottle of Sangster’s Rum Cream. Too bad you can’t get this stuff in the States. Well, actually you can, from a company called Jamaica Direct, but they charge a hefty shipping/courier fee. I went this route last year. Even with the shipping/courier fee, it was still worth it.

Four of us were hungry, so we headed off looking for something to eat. One of the members said an employee at the Jamaican Bobsled shop told him about the café upstairs. So that’s where we went, the Jamaican Bobsled Café. They have several restaurants on the island. Arguably, the most famous one is on Gloucester Avenue in Montego Bay.

It was close to boarding time when we finished our lunch. We headed back to the terminal area. Once we found the gate, we found out that the plane was going to be delayed. Figures. So this edition of our Jamaica trip ends the same way it began, with a late plane.

11 Days in Jamaica - Day 10

Saturday June 23, 2007

(Click to see photos from the trip)

Two years ago we were able to stay in Montego Bay overnight before leaving Jamaica. We took a side trip to Negril and watched some of the cliff divers at Pirate’s Cave. We had a time constraint so we didn’t get to stay very long. That meant even though I wanted to try it, I didn’t get to jump off the rocks.

This year was different. This year we had all day Saturday off. I was determined to get back to Negril. Early in the week I started talking up a possible excursion to Mo Bay and Negril around the band. By Saturday, Dave, Rory, and Robert committed to going with me. It was going to be a very long drive from Ocho Rios all the way to the west end of the island and around to Negril. Chris and Papa Wilson answered the call yet again to drive us.

It was a kicked-back day, no rush, no reason to hurry. It was a good time to enjoy not doing much of anything. All of us at one time or another dozed off for a while. Chris pointed out some places of interest to those who were awake. He commented on the noticeably increased police presence on the roads. We assumed it was to catch speeders. (I later found out from The Gleaner newspaper that the police were adapting to criminals’ tactics; bad guys from one parish would come and do their dirty work in another parish. But, to make it easier to slip past the constables, they would leave their weapons in the parish where they committed the crimes. That way if they were ever caught, they’d be clean as far as weapons go.)

As we rounded the western end of the island just past Mo Bay, Chris directed our attention to a massive construction site along the ocean side of the road. We couldn’t tell what it was going to be but his guess was another mega-resort. It looked like a small city. He said that it would be good for the residents of the town in that it would provide much-needed jobs. By this time we had been on the road for almost three hours. We did endure one traffic jam in Montego Bay due to bridge construction.

Soon we pulled into Negril. Chris again went into tour guide mode, pointing out all the hotel properties we passed. Sandals, Beaches, Riu, Hedonism II, Swept Away, Couples, and on and on.

There’s a spot that Chris and Papa Wilson took us to in ’05, just beyond what I refer to as ‘hotel row’. It’s called the Negril Treehouse Resort. This is where we stopped for lunch. We piled out of the van, stretched our legs, then made a bee-line for you-know-where.

The circular, open-air restaurant surrounds a bar. It sits right on the beach. On occasion, a beach-goer will walk in, still dripping wet, and order a drink or three. Chris and Papa Wilson took a table near the hotel side of the restaurant while the four of us sat on the beach side. I ordered Jerk Chicken, expecting it to be similar to what most hotels serve, i.e. ‘watered down’ for the tourist palate. I asked the waitress how spicy it was. She replied that the chicken itself wasn’t spicy, but they could add extra sauce if needed. She asked how spicy I wanted it. “Very,” I said.

Our meal arrived promptly. Beverages? Of course, Red Stripe all around. A dark-colored sauce glazed the chicken and there was a generous portion on the side. Again, thinking this was the ‘lite’ version, I brushed on the extra sauce like I was painting a fence. Then I took my first bite. Whatever image you have in your mind now is probably close to what happened. My nose started running, the thermometer rose, the steam whistle blew, but my head did not explode. I was in heaven. Yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! That’s how I like my Jerk Chicken! But this was a new taste I had not experienced before. I thought I knew Jerk Chicken. Now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew.

After eating, Dave and Robert decided to go walk around and get a little sand and water between their toes. Rory and I stayed and just kicked back. I did take a few photographs meanwhile.

Robert and Dave came back to the table. We got up and walked over to the gift shop. Outside was a policewoman with a machine gun slung over her shoulder. Once I again, I wondered why this did not make me at all nervous. If policemen in the States walked around with machine guns, I’d be nervous, but not here.

Our next stop was Pirate’s Cave. It’s just up the road a bit from the Treehouse Resort. Along the way, it felt like we crossed over into a whole new world. You leave the commercialism/tourist part of Negril behind. This section of Negril looks more like a smaller Caribbean island like Grand Cayman than it does Jamaica. Dave commented that what we should have done was planned to stay the night and just be beach bums here all the next day. Next time we may do just that. The vibe is certainly laid back here.

One couple was eating lunch out on the patio at Pirate’s Cave when we arrived. I looked around and did not see the cliff divers. We walked along the edge of the rocks, taking in the view of the huts off to the left, and the azure Caribbean Sea 3 stories below. The cliff diver must have either seen or heard us come in.

Robert and I were ready to jump. Rory and David said they’d be happy to just watch us. ‘Donovan’ - I’ll call him that because I forgot his name - gave us some instruction. Step out, no need to jump out very far. Keep your legs straight and your arms at your sides. Robert went in first. He came back up the stairs from the cave below. Looked easy enough, so I stepped up to the edge. I had come all this way just to do this. There was no turning back now. I looked out and jumped off. I picked up speed quickly and soon heard the rush of the air in my ears. Then I heard Donovan yell, “Tuck in your arms!” Obediently, I pinned them to my sides. I remember thinking, “I should have hit the water by now.” I finally did hit the water in what felt like an explosion. I had done it! What a rush!

Swimming back to the cave took a bit of effort because the water kept rising and falling. I climbed up the stairs and reported back to the guys. I was ready to try a dive now. Donovan had cautioned me earlier about diving and recommended that I jump first to see what it was like. He did two dives to show me how to do it right. I told him I was ready. I stepped to the edge again and…… “Man, that’s a long way down.” All the things that could go wrong started running through my head. What if I over-rotate? What if I don’t position my hands the right way? We didn’t have any more gigs to play so Lee couldn’t get too mad if I did get hurt. Ooh, getting hurt might hurt. So I backed down. The guys told me that was a smart choice. Still, I wanted to jump in again. I convinced Donovan to do a tandem; he dove while I jumped. Chris got it on film. Check one more thing off life’s to-do list.

Much has been said about Rick’s Café. All the hotels feature a trip to Rick’s where you can have dinner, see the famous cliff divers, and watch “the most beautiful sunset in Jamaica.” I asked Chris to drive us by there just to see what this Rick’s Café was all about. Rick’s was less than five minutes further up the road. We turned into the driveway. In the parking lot were 15 or more big tour busses and tour vans. Security guards were directing traffic. We looked at each other and told Chris to keep right on going. After the relaxing day we’d been having, the crowd here would have ruined it completely. Personally, I think Pirate’s Cave is much better place.

Chris drove out of the driveway and headed back the way we came. Robert turns to me and says, “So, Stan, where are we going next?” It made me feel good to know that everyone enjoyed the day. Chris and Papa Wilson deserve the credit for turning me on to Pirate’s Cave and the Treehouse Resort two years ago. Maybe I should start working on another trip for next year now.

Darkness had long since settled over the island by the time we got back to the hotel. Long excursion, a lot of driving, but a good time was had by all.

11 Days in Jamaica - Day 9

Friday June 22, 2007

(Click to see photos from the trip)

Today is Friday. We have our last gig of the trip tonight. I have no plans until then. Funny that even though this is mostly a vacation, I still keep waking up around 6 am. I usually go on down to breakfast before it gets too crowded.

I hadn’t lain out on the beach all week. After breakfast, I ran the stairs, changed clothes, headed back down to do just that. It was still early enough that only five or six people were in the water. I picked out a lounge chair and lay down. The bright sun was climbing higher in the sky. A few big clouds gave the sun something to briefly hide behind once in a while.

The people in the water were far enough away that their voices were barely carried ashore. The gentle sound of the waves lapping the shore was louder than they. A few chairs to the right of me, a family was seated, trying to catch some rays. There was no one on my left. What a peaceful scene. I was going to enjoy this. I drank my water and quickly dozed off.

My bliss lasted nearly three hours. What shattered it was the arrival of a group of about eight people. They were loud. Instead of taking the lounge chairs in the row behind me, they dragged the chairs up closer so they were now in line with mine, surrounding me. I tried to shut my eyes to shut them out but I knew getting back to the bit of heaven I had just been jolted out of wasn’t going to happen.

Five minutes later I hear, “Stan!” A few of the band members were walking around and spotted me on the beach. They asked what I was doing (!). We ended up trading places; all except Leroy walked over to the area where I was, while Leroy and I walked back toward the hotel. Leroy had mentioned wanting to do some more shopping so I went with him.

We walked through Soni’s Plaza, down past the Craft Market, all the way down to Taj Mahal. Since we had gotten in the habit of not dressing like tourists, walking around town was so much easier. It was kind of like being in two worlds; in the gift shops that catered to tourists, the store clerk stayed very close to us, never letting us get out of sight. In the stores that catered to locals, we got quizzical glances, something like, “you look like you’re from here but something just isn’t right.” On the way back, I talked Leroy into stopping by Island Grill.

Island Grill is a Jamaican fast food place that is giving Burger King and KFC a healthy serving of competition. They have something like 14 outlets across the island. There is something about the fries they serve there. I tried them for the first time in Kingston last year. They are the best-tasting fries I have had anywhere. Leroy agreed; those fries are the bomb!

Today was also the last chance I’d have to try an Indian restaurant called A Passage to India. It is right across the street from the hotel. I had seen the place and the billboards countless times but had never tried it. I told Rory that I was planning to go, mainly because Ronnie, our alto player last year, wanted to go.

We walked up the winding staircase to the restaurant. We were the only diners there. Another group came in much later, but for the most part it was just us. The dining area was covered, open air, with a patio and a larger indoor dining area. Service was a tad bit slow, probably because everything was cooked fresh.

Our appetizers arrived. They were so good we practically inhaled them. For the main course, we had lamb tikka and chicken tikka along with garlic naan. (Why horn players would eat at an Indian restaurant before a gig, I don’t know. Why horn players would order garlic naan before a gig, I don’t know. But I’m glad we did on both counts.) The naan came to our table straight from the oven. The flavors in the tikka sauce were like a well-balanced symphony. All the different spices seemed to burst out at once, but none overpowered the other. We ended up sopping our plates with the naan. Ronnie, thank you for the suggestion!

Usually I feel a touch of sadness when we play our last gig here. It means we’ll be leaving Jamaica in a day or two. This time I didn’t feel as sad because some of us were going to Negril tomorrow.

Tonight we played two sets for the dinner crowd. People would walk by and look. Some would stop and take pictures of us as we played. Those who were dining would bob their heads in time with the music. Others got a little pep in their step as they passed.

David, our alto sax player, really dug into his solo on one of the songs. He played through the changes like a master. I wish someone had recorded it because it should be used in the classroom to teach students how changes should be played. A perfect example of improvisation. I was so mesmerized that I missed my entrance at the end of his solo.

At the end of the set, Lee thanked the crowd for listening and the hotel for having us. We took our bows and packed up our gear. Some stayed and ate dinner while other took their gear back to their rooms. God willing, I’ll be able to join the band here again next year.