Feathers in the air

I skipped right to the end in the previous post didn't I.

Returning to the club yesterday for the very last time, for an interview-feedback session, the journey there and back had been more emotional than expected, with you looking out at the passing scenery, trying to remember that one reservoir you like. After all, it sparkles under the strong sunlight, it really does. Glitter dances across its surface and the shades of blue always appears to be changing- it was always the highlight of the entire ride on the bus.

You took pictures with your instructor, and the planes, and the sign of the club.
Self-indulgent, yes, but it's the only steadfast memory that you know wouldn't fade, that you wanna be printing out for the little stash-away-notebook you're making for yourself.
Before I go on, I'd like you to know that this second cca that I'd signed up for was the Singapore Youth Flying Club.
As the name suggests, I'd tried my hand at flying a little plane. At the end of it all -if you make it- you get something called a Private Pilot License (PPL), invitations to join the Air Force and all. It isn't something that you can use, directly, to become an actual pilot, but it provides you with experience and opportunities at becoming one.
When I first joined it was merely something I'd wanted to try out.
It sounded fun, daring, and different.
I wanted to challenge myself.
I wanted at least to try, and not have any regrets at having given up before effort for new things- and only because they are too new, too out of your reach, and all too real.

Besides, it's free and the only chance I'll ever have at flying a plane. If ever I regretted my decision at not giving it a shot, I'll have to spend a ton of money trying to learn this stuff.
So of course I went for it, fear and all.

When you want something,
You work for it.
Things like 1.5-2 hours of pure traveling time there doesn't matter; you switch to reading on the way instead, or resting, or even revision.
I guess that makes it roughly 4 hours spent on traveling time alone, and about 12 hours of that every week once flights and simulator lessons commenced. Still, it was easy to look past that.
It was rather difficult, memorizing pages upon pages of checks (where you remember the names of buttons in the cockpit and the sequence of which to check them prior to flying/during flights), or external checks where you remember parts of the aircraft and what to check for.
R/T calls are radio calls you make as you taxy the plane (moving it on the ground to the holding point and so on), and there are certain phrases to memorize and the timings where you'd have to make the calls. At the same time you gotta listen out for other radio calls made by other planes, and for the responses to your call- and reply as appropriate. (I hope I make sense..)
There too are landmarks you gotta remember, and know when you've exceeded the training area, where to turn, etc.
The checks were fine and my calls apparently good, but looking out and recognizing landmarks whilst flying the plane wasn't something I did well. Multitasking, or task-switching at a moderately fast rate, was not something I did well either. In fact, that's pretty much the reason for my phasing out- I am behind the aircraft because I get too fixated on one thing to move on to the next task to do many different different things well, at one go.
I suppose it isn't a surprise, that I was never good at listening to music while studying the first place, or watching a video whilst making a phone call. Only recently have I gotten better at reading with music, and that's pretty much the only multitasking I do.

Sigh.
Obviously it'd saddened me, that all of a sudden effort wasn't enough due to innate lacking qualities.
At the last session I'd been told that with time and practice all of us would have been able to do it, but limited resources ensures that only those who have a certain level of innate capability get to move on to the next phase. Fair enough, it was what I'd reasoned with myself as consolation anyway.

Still, I'd been lucky enough to fly with two of the nicest (I believe so, anyway) instructors in the entire club. You know how instructors can be; I really am one lucky jelly to have flown with the two of them for my six flights.
Even though I failed, I got the experience. I got to fly an actual airplane!
I mean, how amazing is that?

One of the instructors gave me a lil talk on sortie 5, telling me that I'd tried but multitasking and cycle-motor skills aren't my forte. (No surprise there, I don't play sports outside of school curriculum, and never competitively. I can't cycle as well... >~< )
Sortie 6 I'd wanted to try anyways, but still couldn't do it regardless. The instructor however still taught me as though I'd be advancing on to the next phase. What's more, he really spent time talking to me, asking things like what my desire was when I first joined, then saying nice phrases like I wasn't the first or last to fail, that people are geared for different things, sharing with me his own experiences, then rounding it all off with 'You are young, the future is full of possibilities for you to explore.'
See, even though certain phrases are expected they aren't typical, and it's because not everyone is nice and kind enough to actually voice them out and take care of your feelings for you.
It never is a good thing to expect nice things from others, or to rely upon them for your wellbeing.  But you gotta admit, it's really sweet when someone cares enough to do that for ya.

On the last flight I'd stared out, trying to commit the beautiful scenery to memory.
Taking off is this magical thing where all things familiar to you turns, all of a sudden, to looking tinier and almost fake-looking. When you're 2500ft up in the air, highways look like some sort of well-built game a wealthy kid would be playing with. The cars zoom after one another, and you spot one bright yellow one that looks like one of those models at your aunt's house. The little houses look cute, and the flats like Lego bricks consciously arranged into specific arrangements. Reservoirs have shapes and little islands like messages you'd see in movies whilst soaring atop a talking eagle.
On days where the sky is unbelievably clear, the water sparkles slightly, and you think to yourself you don't wanna give this up.

At 7000ft you are above some clouds, and even though they look to be solid and opaque whilst on the ground, going through one of them the entire canopy screen goes grayish white and you can't see a thing save for snippets of the red roofs below and the highways surrounding them.
As a twelve-year-old kid we are told that clouds are nothing more than water vapor that's evaporated and condensed into water droplets in the sky. In the actual sky however, they look like cotton stacked not top of each other in spontaneous, random tufts, with certain layers alike to thin sheets spread out like floss.
At one point the sky had this beautiful gradient going on- blue at the top, merging into a turquoise that blends into slight hints of green and small areas of yellow, before ending off on a mysterious note- a pinkish-orangish-reddish hue right before the horizon and the bustling city lay below at your feet.
A smattering of clouds here and there took on the whimsical colors of the sky, and you legitimately see a couple yellow and pink clouds here and there.
There are wavy ones too, and there was another part of the flight where clouds stacked itself upon the others, creating this fluffy looking mound that looked like there could be secret palaces with glittering jewels hidden within it. There are flat looking platforms that look like angels and dancing stars bounce on top of them, creating little dents wherever they went.

Singapore is small, but you don't ever realize it, having lived here all your life, until you actually go up there and all you see separating your country from Malaysia is a little band of blue waters, and you can see all the way to Marina Barrage with its unmistakable three buildings- just by turning your head a little.

It was, beautiful.
And for some reason I had been lucky enough to experience a 1.4 hour flight on that last Friday morning, for the reason that there was heavy air traffic in the air.
It was the longest flight ever experienced, and you took advantage of it, wishing you could capture the images like a running video: the teeny tiny fishing village, the sandy beaches that's wavy and textured with different hues of brown, the clouds, the sky, the hazy parts, the fake looking trees and city.
Then it's over, you're landing and you're taxying back to the shed.

I have to say, I don't regret joining the club. At all.
Sure it's been pretty much hell for the past three months, sure I had to wake up really early on some days and be sleep deprived on others, but it was worth it.
Fifty years later, I'll be able to look back and smile and say, 'That was one wild ride, and I'm glad I took it, I'm so glad I tried to do whatever my heart desired.'

Youth is an asset,
And here I'd used it. Along with my height (who would have known it'd be a prerequisite?), my Gold NAPHA results (yep. I'm not sorry for bragging.), and my time, energy, and efforts, I have gotten myself a precious experience in my otherwise constant life.
Side note?  I have not made it, but my face made it on the flyer.
(It really is a coincidence, I shouldn't speak as though I earned it)
Besides, they'd gotten me to do a little voiceover for the graduation video this year, and that was great in its own way.

So much has happened that I shall not forget.

This wonderful, magical, exhausting three-month period of my life-
So much that I shall not forget,
Always.