Its official- this (or its dish-less but still awesome cargo carrying brother) is my new ride for the next few years of my life.
Last Saturday while you all were either sleeping off a hangover or rubbing one out to your sister, I was doing this:
I was in jet number 206, but you get the idea. (she blew a tire on me- sounded like a bomb went off during the most surprisingly violent experiences I've felt in aviation.)
During workups for the boat, we all grew mustaches (its tradition; we think it was started mostly to keep chicks away from us so we concentrate on the boat) then dyed them all jet black. You have no idea how creepy 9 dudes in the same cutoff yellow polo with identical black mustaches in a white government van look.
Well, maybe...
[ninja add-in]
Its supposed to look ugly.
So, I am no longer a jet pilot (for now) and no longer fly aircraft for the Navy single-pilot. However, I just landed 14,000 lbs of unruly aluminum on 90,000 tonnes of angry steel safely and consistently, and my last flight in the jet was being launched off the bow of the U.S.S. Bush into the afternoon sun after successfully completing the last major hurdle to getting my Naval Aviator's wings.
Here's what it looks like in video format.
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