MyMrMallory: "Wilco," he said from the right seat. "Ha-ha. He's telling a Cherokee to to keep its speed up."
Tower: "One niner juliette, you are number one for landing. Keep your speed up. I've got a Lear and a Citation behind you."
Me: [Nervously I studied my instruments to comply with speed and altitude.]
MyMrMallory: [Geez.]
Tower: "One niner Juliette, could you do a short final on three-five for me?"
Me: Watching runway 35 disappear underneath my cowling, I wondered want kind of steep 180-degree teardrop turn I'd need to do to comply with tower's request. My first thoughts were, "Unable," and "He's nuts."
MyMrMallory: "Yes, but we'll have to go out right to turn back in."
Tower: "Disregard and could you do a short final on three-four? If you can't, I'll send you out to let the Learjet in first."
MyMrMallory: [This is where the fighter pilot emerges from within the sweet, darling man I married.] "Wilco, one niner juliette for runway three-four," he said to tower, and then turned to me, "I have the flight controls."
Me: "You have the flight controls," I said, taking my hand off the yoke.
MyMrMallory: "Fort Worth, one niner juliette. How does this look?" he asked them as he made a fast, steep downturn, which I knew he would do, to my delight, as nimbly as a fighter jet. Picture a Cherokee steeply, quickly, coming in for a landing -- nothing I would dare do myself with a Learjet and a Citation at my tail.
Tower: "Good. One niner juliette cleared to land runway three-four."
MyMrMallory landed smoothly despite the high speed, and then we hastily exited, parking at Texas Jet in Meacham.
I filed this morning direct to the Bowie VOR, then the Matzo intersection, then for Meacham airport. Our flight felt smooth in the cool morning, and we marveled, as we do, at the lack of turbulence and the scenery of North Texas.
Flying along peacefully, keeping the needle pointed at the Bowie VOR, Center came over the radio and announced, "One niner juliette, cleared direct Matzo." I remembered Lehrer saying at a time similar to this one, "Welcome to the world of IFR." I wondered what I would do, if I were flying by myself, realizing that I had forgotten to prepare for this change in my route. "What did you do?" I later asked MyMrMallory at our one-hundred dollar taco lunch. He said, "I panicked. I should have foreseen the change." He figured things out by studying his iPad, and so we proceeded to Matzo intersection without too much winding around.
"What is your soup?" I asked MyMrMallory after he returned from the buffet.
"I don't know."
I watched him stir his soup and sip delicately from his spoon. He had a distinct grimace with every sip. I did not want to utter the word "tripe," or he would drop his spoon and push the bowl away.
The waitress passed by our table, then, having glanced at his bowl, swirled around and stopped.
"Do you like menudo?" she asked him.
"No," he said.
"I was thinking what a brave man you are for liking menudo!" She took his bowl away.
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"What is 'menudo'?"
"Later," I said, taking a big bite of my taco, and then slid my plate toward him. "Want a taco?"
Back to this morning, we heard from Center:
Center: One niner juliette, contact lost. Verify altitude.
MyMrMallory: Five thousand, one niner juliette.
Center: One niner juliette, radar contact.
Me: [Nervously I cross-checked my instruments. Thus far, I held 5,000 within fifty feet since reaching that altitude -- easy to do in such smooth air -- so I did not understand the problem, and wondered if my radio malfunctioned. Fortunately, it was fleeting and everything worked properly.]
On our return, I filed for the Kingdom Seven departure through continued smooth air. We flew a 300-degree heading until we intersected the 285 radial to Maverick, then flew directly home. And what happened at home? I had the most beautiful landing ever in the presence of MyMrMallory! Finally!
"This the way you are always supposed to land," he said.
Holding for a King Air on final to runway 34 at Meacham.
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