Want To Be A Fighter Pilot? GREAT ARTICLE!

Recommended Posts

Got this in an e-mail. LOVE those pilots!!!

This guy writes for Sports Illustrated. VERY funny!

On a Wing and a Prayer by Rick Reilly

Now this message for America's most famous athletes:

Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's
most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have -- John Elway, John
Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me
urge you, with the greatest sincerity . . .

Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own death. Whatever you do, do
not go. I know.

The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was

I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of
fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple

He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling
handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his
leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast. Biff King was
born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA
missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting...." Remember?). Chip would
charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up
from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We have a

Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million
weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie.
I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked
Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning. "Bananas," he
said. "For the potassium?" I asked. "No," Biff said, "because they taste
about the same coming up as they do going down."

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name
sewn over the left breast. (No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or
Leadfoot - but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my
arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail
Nicole Kidman, that was it.

A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me
into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of the
plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious
from the G-forces. Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the
canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In
minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then
canopy-rolled over another F-14. Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life.

Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80 minutes. It was like being on the roller
coaster at Six Flags. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls,
loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a
vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it
chased us. We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea.
Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G-force of
6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing
against me.

This is my favorite part . . .

And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth
grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing
stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick
bag, but two. Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At
one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock
bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in
and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to
throw down.

I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman
making a five-iron bite.

But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron
stomachs and Freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's
black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a
rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and
the fighter pilots had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a
patch for my flight suit.

What is it? I asked....

"Two Bags."

you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' -- well do you, punk?

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
You're welcome! An article like this makes you realize exactly why every fighter pilot you meet has an ego the size of Texas.

My favorite part is:
"If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it."

you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' -- well do you, punk?

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

A really good article. Oh my god. You have got to be kidding.

This guy is an IDIOT. The guy who wrote article and the steeley eyed pilot as well. How do I know this?? I was a RIO in Squadron 213, when we flew him. (Yes, with a cool callsign too)

The cool fighter guys like "Biff" ..you have to be kidding me. The most arrogant, self absorbed excuse for a leader I have ever seen. He destroyed countless of good naval officer's careers (not including mine, but I saw many destroyed). He got a top 5 blue angel select grounded for personal reasons..the list goes on. Oh, did I mention, he wanted to send the first female to Top Gun (who was lazy and incompetent) because he was sleeping with her????

So go ahead, love him and the article, but it is all B***shit....

And oh by the way, the only bigger joke in Aviation is Scott O'Grady being a hero...

I think I am done now.

It is mercy, compassion and forgiveness I lack, not rationality.
-Black Mamba

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Hey great article! So funny! But seriously, if you do get a chance to ride in a fighter, GO!! I got a ride in an F-16, just awesome...a once in a lifetime experience. I swear I could hear the Top Gun theme in my head as we took off..very cool
"Dancing Argentine Tango is like doing calculus with your feet."
-9 toes

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Love the article!!

Now just how the hell do you get a ride in a fighter?? I'd probably give my right arm for a chance at that!!! That sounds like it would be as fun as skydiving.

A few thousand dollars and a plane ticket to Russia will get you a flight in a your choice of Russian fighters. I wanna do the Flanker. You get to ride in the front seat, do aerobatics, go supersonic, the whole bit.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.