keyan_bowes | Blue Angels and Kids in San Francisco

I'm in San Francisco now, and this past weekend, I walked up to Tank Hill to watch the Blue Angels air show. There's been talk of canceling it because of opposition from the anti-war and environmental crowds. In the company of several dogs, a few people with cameras, and many more with children, I settled onto the sunny windy hillside with my binoculars. Tank Hill gives a vista over the bay, directly in front of the main viewing area.

A beautiful little blonde girl behind me kicked at the gravel. “Sweetie,” I said, “If you do that, the dust blows here.” She looked at me, her eyes big and blue and round. Her mother considerately moved her away. A baby in a sling whimpered.

We saw the planes before we heard them, four fighters in a tight diamond formation sweeping over Golden Gate Bridge. The sound was misleading. From this distance, the roar actually came from where the planes had been, not where they were. Through my binoculars, I could even see their dark blue and gold colors. They performed their usual amazing aerobatics – rolls, spins, vertical climbs, and the always-popular loops – all in tight formation and at high speed. Usually, four of them performed together, in a diamond or a line-abreast formation; sometimes all six planes flew a tight arrowhead. Here’s a wikipedia entry describing their background and routine.

A song my uncle in the Airforce used to sing ran through my head, “Oh once I buzzed the airfield with another happy chap, we flew a hot formation with my wingtip in his lap, now there’s a new directive and we’ll have no more of that, with the air-force shot to hell…"

LJ-Cut

My head was in the cockpit with those guys. I’ve only ever flown a glider (open cockpit!), which is very slow and quiet, but there’s something about flying an aircraft that made it possible for me to imagine being there. Time slows and at the same time goes terribly fast as you concentrate in a situation where you cannot take any chances, and yet it’s something you’ve mastered and are comfortable with.

There was one amazing manouever I could't figure out: Two planes flew level past the display area with their noses pointed upward at a 40 degree angle, laying down a line of smoke, like vacuum cleaners in reverse. With the nose pointed up like that the plane looked as if it would climb, but it didn't.

The families with their kids were making social contact. A couple to my left made elaborate dinner plans with another couple. The kids were generally restless, enjoying it rather less than their parents had expected them to.

“Annie, stop throwing rocks. No, Annie don’t throw that rock. Ann, if you keep doing that, we will have to go home.”

“Emily, stay away from the edge. Emily, come here, it’s dangerous. Emily, hold my hand…”

“Tommy! Tommy. Tom…Tommy!”

All the kids seemed to be under age six. Where were all the 8 and 10 and 12 year-olds? When I was that age, you couldn’t have kept me away. In fact, one of the big events of my childhood was the air-show at Tilpat, to which my father got an invitation since he worked at the time in the Defense Ministry. We missed school for that.

I watched the show through my binocs until the arrowhead moved behind Twin Peaks, landing, I supposed, at SFO or Oakland. Everyone started to leave.

“Why is everyone leaving?” a small girl yelled. “I want to stay here and plaaay!"

I think I enjoyed the show more than anyone. I'm anti-war and pro-environment, but I'm glad they lost this one.