And then, suddenly, there we were, in blinding sunlight, 2,500 feet MSL, a speck of a plane against columns of dark storm next to us and to the west of us and behind us and to the east, as we emerged into…well, paradise, or at least it seemed.
I remember that moment exactly, as we cruised out from between storm clouds, turned the corner and found ourselves looking up into a giant shell of perfect blue sky. I was speechless. And at our 11 o’clock, we spied Wittman Regional, the glinting pearl inside the shell, bright and obvious in a way that airports hardly ever are when you’re looking for them with the naked eye, like it was being lit up just for us.
And when I say “just for…