Passion meets passion

I got to Omaha to meet a smiling gentleman about my father's age. We went to collect my bags. However, no bags showed , and I was back in the Kafka-esque nightmare. No gear. No merchandise. No clothes. No toiletries. The baggage claim dude told me that my bags would be in on the next flight and they'd deliver to McCook in the middle of the night.

We went to where Dick's Piper was lodged. I almost fainted. I'm afraid of heights. And I've got a small fear of flying no matter that I fly all the time. This would be by far the smallest plane I would be in. Then he said "you'll be getting your first flying lesson today" and I was astonished. He showed me how to steer with my feet and allowed me to steer us to our takeoff point. He gave me a few quick lessons in reading the instruments, what was essential, what the feet control, what the hands control, fuel gauge, etc. and vrooooom, the plane took off and we were up there in the sky, the blue blue sky, over the rolling green plains of Nebraska, our shadow below us, up 3800 feet into the columns of cloudpuff. Dick let go and I was steering the plane by myself. He told me of how thunderclouds form, how to read them, how to read the air and the mists and the bumps of the sky. He pointed toward a tophat cloud and said "Go through it!" I said, "really?" he said, "Yep" and then I was pointing the plane directly at this large white puffield and we were INSIDE THE CLOUD and for a brief moment everything went white and I couldn't see and then we were through to the other side and I let out a 5 year old "Whooooop" and tears ran down my face. I'd never ever ever even entertained a flying fantasy. Never had that in me. Never thought about it. It wasn't on my bucket list. But there I was, piercing a cloud with this small plane. Coming through the mist and the blue of the sky burst open and the ground below rolled by and I was floating on air, literally. I watched the sky change, I watched the ground go by, towns go by, and soon we were near McCook and I was rocking the plane back and forth, rolling it down the descent, comfortable now with the feel of the wingspan. We talked of history and life and Dick asked me about my life as a musician and said. "Now see, we're the lucky ones. We found our passion. Yours is music and mine is flying and I've been flying my whole life." And then safe and sound on the ground, I was whisked to the show, just in time, in the same grey-hued clothes I'd been all day, no makeup, not a brush on me to smooth my hair, no jewelry, nothing fancy. No tuner or mic or DI. No set list. No anything but my bare face and my unadorned guitar and a sold-out crowd of people waiting for me.