Goodbye, Mr. KennedyA Story by Jamie BeckettThe shocking death of John Kennedy Jr. brought about this editorial. It ran in the July 20th edition of the Winter Haven News Chief. John Kennedy and I have bumped into each other twice in our lives. I say bumped, rather than met, because our meetings were total happenstance. Neither of us intended to meet, and in all honesty I can tell you that I suspect I was far more pleased by the coincidental encounters than he was. I, like you, am not unaffected by fame. A prominent face must be tough to carry around in public, I think. And whether you feel fondly or disdainfully about John, and the Kennedys as a whole, you have to admit that he lived in sharp focus under the harsh spotlight as well as anyone could. The first time we crossed paths was on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village a dozen years ago or so. My wife and I were on our way home from a club, and as we walked toward our apartment, which was right around the corner on Bleeker Street, we came upon John, astride his bike, looking somewhat lost, as if he were unable to find an address. It was very late. Certainly after midnight. Not the best time to confront strangers in New York City. But he showed no signs of fear or discomfort as we three twenty-something's (then) shared the streetlight and the night air. The second time we met was this past April. Ironically again, on the ramp of the airport in Kissimmee. John was working on his instrument rating, which he would then be able to use in conjunction with his private pilot license to fly in bad weather, or in limited-visibility conditions. We talked about airplanes, and flying, and his powered parachute. A two seat go-cart looking machine that hangs under the canopy of a parachute. They are safe, fun and have a tendency to not take you anywhere very far from home. He had just been flying his the week before and he said as much about them. His favorite use seemed to be to take friends on low altitude tours of the beach. He smiled and laughed easily. I liked him. I have a flight instructor's license, and used to teach people to fly for a living both here in Central Florida and in southern Connecticut. I have flown over the same waters that the wreckage of John's plane will be found in. And I have flown through the same type of New England summer haze that he was flying through on Friday night. So while I know nothing of the specifics of his unfortunate end, I know the situation he was in well. Most pilots know that situation well. And it has left some of us with very sweaty palms and a quickened heart rate. The FAA and the National Transportation Safety Board, which will be conducting the investigation into this crash, are bound by certain rules, and will have nothing specific to offer in the way of an explanation for some time. I, on the other hand, am not bound by those rules. So I will offer you my impression of what you will find out in a few months from the federal investigators that issue the final report. Pilot error is the most common cause of airplane accidents. It is the unfortunate but irrefutable reality of the flying business. If you bite off more than you can chew, aviation has a tendency to bite back. And if you aren't on your toes it can bite you back hard. On a hazy, hot day at the end of a hazy, hot week in New England you'll notice that you can actually see the dirt and smog hanging in the air. Visibility can be cut to the point that it is possible to have to fly by instruments on what appears from the ground to be a fairly clear, cloudless day. So you are flying as if you were in the clouds with no visual reference to the ground. A flight like this is common, and rather routine to tell you the truth. Unless you aren't trained for it, or you aren't used to it, or both. Then it can be an experience that goes from tense, to scary to a full-blown panic in a matter of minutes. A human being deprived of his sight gets scared pretty rapidly. Especially when he has a workload that he has been relying on his sight to accomplish. Once he passed Long Island, John wouldn't have had much of a reference to land left. The water, under the best conditions, blends into the sky rendering the horizon vague and uncertain. Flying over the ocean is an instrument flight in my opinion, not a visual one. I have no doubt that the poor visibility, the lack of land references, the darkening sky and John's lack of experience in a high-powered aircraft (300 horsepower is considered well into the high-powered realm in general aviation) could lead to an unrecoverable situation for him. As it could for me, or any other pilot that found himself in a similar situation with similar equipment and skills. John Kennedy had top notch flight training from one of the best flight schools in the country. He told me that he was pleased with the instruction he received there. He was flying a well-engineered aircraft that has a solid reputation and an excellent safety record. What he didn't have was experience. There is an expression that says "two out of three ain't bad." Unfortunately, in aviation two out of three is one short of what you need to be safe. I barely knew John Kennedy Jr. And I am sure he had no memory of me or our brief conversations. But I will miss him just he same, and cherish the memories I have of his presence on this planet. We were of the same age, and while our lives were very different, I could identify with him as a man rather than as an icon of the media. As we parted this past April he was waiting for the fog to lift so he could go flying. I said I thought we should continue to get together like this every dozen years of so. Apparently, we won't. Goodbye, John. © 2008 Jamie BeckettReviews
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5 Reviews Added on February 6, 2008 AuthorJamie BeckettWinter Haven, FLAboutI was once a musician, who became a pilot, then found his way into computer science. Along the way I've worked in garages, on farms and written more newspaper columns and magazine stories than I can k.. more..Writing
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