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Erin Pierce, Times columnist
and owner of Pierce Aviation
• Flyino00
ment -- can make us go crazy
in a variety of ways•
I didn't stop to contemplate
all of this as I ran screaming
through the streets of Gover-
nor's Harbor with the specific
intent of murdering whoever
had separated me from my lit-
tle boy.
"HAVE YOU SEEN A LIT-
TLE BOY?" I queried everyone
I saw. With each passing min-
ute I could feel the odds of my
finding Patrick innocently play-
ing with some local kid fading
away to nothingness.
I rounded the corner by the
church and came face to face
with the police officer from the
day before. He jumped up from
the bench where he was seated,
and dropped the small paper
cup he had been drinking from
as he pulled his baton and or-
dered me to stop. I obeyed.
'WV-hat is going on?" He de-
manded.
"I lost my son." I responded
a little too loudly.
He lowered the baton and
seemed to think about that for
a moment, "Relax. I am sure he
is fine. Take a deep breath." He
ordered, "I tink I know where
he be."
We walked along the harbor
toward the Customs building in
silence. I was well aware that
the first thing you tell a hysteri-
cal person is that evex cthing is
fine, yet I clung to the hope that
his comments regarding Pat-
rick's whereabouts were more
than lip service• We walked up
the stairs of the Customs build-
ing, but instead of turning right
at the top to go into customs, we
turned left and went through a
storefront door with a sign that
said, "Breakfast"
It was a small deli with a
.: narrow countertop and sev-
eral upright glass coolers full
of sandwiches and sodas. The
: woman behind the counter had
• . long blonde hair, blue eyes, and
an athletic build. She reminded
; me of my wife Erika -- in short,
she was absolutely gorgeous.
She barely noticed our arrival
because she was helping Pat-
rick cut pineapples with an ex-
• . tremely long knife.
"PATRICK!" I yelled as I
ran around the counter and
squeezed the holy hell out of
,- him. "Are you alright?" I asked.
' " "Hi
., Daddy!" He cried as he
. 'e"
i': squeezed me back, "I was just
.=- helping Alicia cut up pineap-
° ples. They are very good. Would
you like some?"
I exploded on him. "WHY
DID YOU WANDER OFF?
Here we are, illegally in an-
other country, broken down on
a beach you've never seen be-
'. fore, and you decide to go for a
walk without me. How the heck
did you get here, anyway? I was
beginning to think something
bad had happened to you. I AM
:: VERY UPSET. YOU HAD NO
BUSINESS LEAVING THE
; AIRCRAFT WITHOUT ME"
, I very rarely raise my voice at
,. Patrick, so he began to look as if
,: " he would begin to cry. I held him
! "8
,, close to me again, "It's OK. You
, just scared the hell out of me.
"' Don't leave me again. Not even
for a second!" I squeezed him so
tightly he couldn't breathe.
"It was all my fault•" Alicia
said as she put down the knife,
"I saw Patrick sitting on the
beach by himself and thought
it was a little odd for a white
kid his age to be out there that
early in the morning. When I
asked him where his family
was he started telling me about
robots, transformers, and Iron
Man, then added that he was
a pilot and flew that airplane
here from New Orleans, but the
landing gear broke and he had
to land it in the water, so now he
had to wait there until someone
brought him a new costume. I
think I figured out the rest of it,
but I'm not too sure about the
costume bit." She added with a
smile.
"Customs." I said between
clenched teeth. "We haven't
cleared Customs yet."
"OH!" Alicia exclaimed as she
laughed. Her laughter was mu-
sical and infectious -- almost
as good as Erika's. I wound up
laughing, too.
"Well, the strangest parts
were all true." I responded
"They usually are!" Alicia
replied as she peeled off some
more laughter.
The police officer then of-
fered to escort us next door to
clear port customs• He promised
Alicia that he would bring us
back for breakfast if we didn't
go to jail from there. I couldn't
tell if he was serious, and I was
beyond caring. I had found my
son. Nothing could worry me.
The customs office next door
was dank and dingy. The air
conditioner vent was creating
a large pool of water on the
floor that a young customs of-
ficer was making a half-hearted
attempt to clean up, and the
portly port officer was busy
playing a crossword puzzle. The
police officer walked up to her
and began explaining the situa-
tion. She glanced over the edge
of her horn-rimmed eyeglasses,
but she did not look happy to
see us.
I dropped to one knee to dis-
cuss this with Patrick. "Patrick,
this is serious. Do you see that
big woman behind me? Well,
she is not happy that we're here,
and I need her to like us. You
need to be very adorable right
now. Can you handle that?"
"Daddy, I am going to make
that lady want to take me home
and feed me chocolate." Patrick
responded with a grin.
Patrick put all his best moves
on this woman. As soon as we
were within earshot, he began
telling me that he thought she
was pretty. He followed that up
with a request to take her with
us, and then told her directly
that when he was older he was
going to look her up. He was
completely over the top, but
what comes across as insincere
to' adults can be adorable in
children.
Her attitude changed so fast
that it gave me whiplash. She
was suddenly charming and
agreeable. She told us that she
didn't have the authority to
clear an aircraft through cus-
toms, so she pretended it was
a ship instead. She filled out
all the forms for us in a couple
of minutes, then joined us for
breakfast next door.
All five of us ate breakfast
together (Patrick, the police of-
ricer, the customs lady, Alicia
the sandwich shop owner, and
I). Alicia called a friend with a
55 gallon drum and a truck to
go pick up the fuel I needed,
and the police officer informed
me that he had made good on
his promise to inform Mr. Letok
(our employer's agent) of our
difficulties. The return message
was for us to get to the fueling
dock of the Staniel Cay Yacht
Club before noon. There a fel-
low named Jackson would take
possession of the aircraft and
arrange to get us back home.
We ate johnny cake and
drank mango juice for about
30 minutes before a large ferry
from Nassau pulled up at the
dock across the street and the
customs lady had to leave. The
store was soon filled with tour-
ists, so we said our goodbyes and
headed back to the aircraft.
Alicia's buddy with the truck
arrived witfi 55 gallons of Av-
gas from the airport. He pulled
close to the beach and used an
old hand pump and a garden
hose to transfer the fuel. The
whole process only took about
20 minutes, and I was very sur-
prised to learn that Mr. Letok
had already paid for the gas.
I wondered how he could have
known about it.
We did a very thorough pre-
flight, then a few locals helped
me push the aircraft back into
the harbor and turn it around.
Patrick and I boarded through
the main cabin door in the rear.
In a few minutes we had the
engines running smoothly and
taxied to the Southeast side of
the harbor so we could make a
take-off run into the wind.
It had been a while since I
had done a water take-off in a
Widgeon, and I forgot how sen-
sitive they were to bleing pushed
over onto the step. Water start-
ed to spray as the old girl began
to porpoise a bit, but I was able
to keep it from getting out of
hand. Soon we were flying low
over the Caribbean Sea toward
Staniel Cay.
This should have been an
easy 30 minute flight, but about
ten minutes into it I began to
feel a strange vibration in the
airframe. The right engine
manifold pressure was sudden-
ly about two inches lower, and I
could see faint wisps of smoke
coming from the #2 exhaust.
In retrospect, what I did next
was probably wrong. I allowed
my respect for the equipment
to interfere with my judgment.
I opted to shut the right engine
down instead of running it with
an unknoWn problem. I didn't
tell Patrick what I was doing;
I just reached up for the right
throttle and pulled it. Next, I
pulled the right prop back to
"feather" before finally pulling
the right mixture to idle/cut
off. The cabin got quieter as the
right propeller stopped wind
milling.
When Patrick asked what
was going on, I did what any
good daddy should do, I lied.
"I'm just trying to save fuel,
buddy!" I cheerfully responded•
"It is quieter with that engine
off, anyway, isn't it?"
We cruised the rest of the
way on the left engine• It only
took us a few minutes longer, so
I was pretty pleased with my-
self until I began to scout out
our landing spot. I crossed the
bay upwind and decided that I
would rather land with a slight
right crosswind and have more
space to slow when it occurred
to me that I was a real idiot•
You see, one can't taxi a multi
engine seaplane with an engine
shut down. The asymmetrical
thrust will just make you go in
circles. I had no way to get to
the dock without the right en-
gine, so I had to start it again.
I pushed the mixture back
up, and the prop forward to
let it windmill into a start, but
nothing happened (no accumu-
lators on a Widgeon). Next I hit
the starter, but that old start-
er wasn't up to spinning the
propeller fast enough to start
while it was feathered like that.
Crap!
OK, so what could I do? If I
landed with only one engine
running, the ship would start
spinning as soon as I slowed,
and I wasn't too keen on shut-
ting the other one down while
there was a chance I could need
it. I opted to land quartering up-
wind and turn into the channel
as I came off the step, then shut
the left engine down. Although
it is a sin to leave the flaps
down after landing in a Wid-
geon (because water will hose
them down quite hard and they
block the main exit door when
extended), I opted to do so be-
cause they would help the wind
propel the aircraft backward to-
ward the dock from the spot I
was hoping to reach by means
of momentum• If it worked, I'd
exit through the forward hatch,
then climb over the top of the
aircraft to fend off the dock
from the tail... I wasn't sure
how well I could reach the dock
from there, but figured that it
would be the least of my wor-
ries. I'd rather run into the dock
backwards than into a volcanic
coral head, and that seemed to
be my other option.
At least at the dock I had a
reasonable chance of getting
help.
The plan worked perfectly. I
got off the step and turned the
aircraft about 20 degrees, ex-
actly where I needed to. Next,
I managed to climb over the
aircraft without falling off or
damaging anything. Finally, I
was able to get one of the locals
with a pole to fend me off the
dock. We tied the nose cleat to
the dock, and allowed the wind
to carry the aircraft around the
other side--where it would be
safe from colliding with any of
the nice yachts parked there.
Since no one on the dock
1st Annual Angel of the Delta
Festival set for Sunday
Special to The Times
MADISONVILLE - On Sunday, November 14 from 11 am - 5
pm, the Madisonville Riverfront will play host to the first "Angel
of the Delta" festival. The Angel of the Delta Festival is named in
honor of the late Margaret Gaffney Haughery who dedicated her
entire life to feed, clothe and house orphans in New Orleans.
Margaret, an orphan turned
entrepreneur, left over half a
million dollars in 1882, to or-
phans and poor of every race
and nationality. This festival
is the brainchild of musician/
folk singer Danny O'Flaherty
and Marylee Orr, Director
of L.E.A.N. (Louisiana Envi-
ronmental Action Network)
and LMRK(Lower Mississippi
Riverkeeper), who are working
in conjunction with the Town of
Madisonville and St. Tammany
Parish, to aid the families and
children of the fishermen still
struggling from the Gulf Oil Di-
saster.
This free festival will include
music, dancers, food vendors
and boat demonstrations by a
variety of vessels, all represen-
tative of the diversity of nation-
alities aided by Margaret. Do-
nation boxes will be available to
patrons for monetary donations
and non-perishable food items,
All donations will be distrib-
uted to the fishermen's families
through the United Commercial
Fishermen's Association.
Music will fill the air with
the sounds of Irish music by
Danny O'Flaherty, Julian Mur-
ray, and the Crescent City Celtic
Band; German music from Julie
Council & the German Jubilee
Band; Tropical Folk from Dan-
ny Taddai, and; Jazz with Sil-
ver and Gold (Gypsy Elise and
Ryan Way) will also be heard
throughout the day.
You will also be treated to
some spectacular dance by the
Muggivan School of Irish Dance
and the McTeggert Irish Danc-
ers. In addition, after the fes-
tival, Danny O'Flaherty and
Joni Muggivan will host a ceili
and concert in the Madisonville
Town Hall building• Tickets for
the ceili and concert are $10
and all proceeds from the con-
cert will also be distributed to
the fishers' families.
Take a stroll along the river
and enjoy the nautical demon-
strations that will be featured
all day on the Tchefuncte River.
THE PONCHATOULA TIMES, NOVEMBER 11, 2010, PAGE 3
seemed to know who or where
Jackson was, we went into the
bar of the c.lub to ask. The bar
was relatively full, and the res
taurant was packed. We eased
around to an empty space on
the opposite end of the bar. I
sat down, and Patrick sat in
my lap. "Do you know where I
can find a guy named Jackson?"
I inquired when the bartender
finally made his way around to
me.
"Mr. Jackson? He Mr. Dapp's
Pilot. Mr. Dapp is behind you.
Ask eem." He responded as he
opened a Killik for me.
I turned around to meet the
most famous person I have ever
met. Mr. Dapp, indeed. No won-
der he wanted to remain anony-
mous.
"I didn't hear you arrive.
I just looked up and saw you
there. I thought it would be
louder." He said.
"We had the engines off."
I said. I told him most of the
events since I left Bozeman as
concisely as I could before offer-
ing him my card.
"Jackson told me that he
didn't think we'd find someone
to fly the aircraft down here un-
til next summer." He continued,
"When we saw you had arrived
in Hammond he told me that
you were either very good or
very reckless."
"I'd like to think I'm good."
I laughed, "What happened to
Mr. Letok?"
"As you might have guessed,
I am Mr. Letok." He answered.
"Please pardon the deception,
but I find it useful to conduct
my own business under that
name. i tried the Hollywood
type 'personal assistant' thing a
few years ago, and it is far too
intrusive. I prefer to manage
my own personal affairs."
"I can appreciate that." I re-
sponded.
We talked for about an hour.
Eventually our employer in-
quired if we would like to use
his Net Jets account to go back
to Hammond. (Net Jets pro-
vides private jets to people on
demand for a fee) Naturally, I
jumped on that opportunity:
Our employer and his pilot,
Jackson, brought us back to
the Governor's Harbor airport
in a very well-appointed Maule
Super Rocket on amphibious
floats. Onco there, they walked
us through outbound customs
without a hitch, then led us to
the ramp of a waiting Citation
XL (a nice corporate jet).
"I really enjoyed meeting you
two." He said as he handed me
a check, "Is there anything else
I can do for you?"
I had been devoting some
thought to this very issue on the
ride over from Staniel Cay. '%(es
sir. I know this is a cheesy re-
quest, but I would really like to
see you do Captain Jack Spar-
row before we go."
He did, and Patrick gasped
in comprehension. It was very,
very cool.
Gator 's Den
LIVE MUSIC
EVERY SUNDAY
3pm till 7pm
i: .... This Sunday
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Old Hwy. 51 South, Manchac, LA 70412
085) 386-7902
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HAPPY HOILDAYS FROM THE
STAFF OF LIBERTY LOANS
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register to
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no payment till Jan. 2011
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Ponchatoula
386-8889
