Today, leaving Lockridge Lumber with a new door latch for the trailer and a LOOONNNGGG 3/4" bit for the drill to repair the fence, I bumped into a light aircraft pilot that greatly reminds me of my Dad both in style of comments and in interests. This is the first time I've seen him since I've retired.
My image has been liberated! TEACHERS, especially female, unmarried ones, have very restricted social leeway in southern Iowa. So, when a 1500 word contest short story dropped a reference to the "mile high club" into the first four hundred words, I was then struck by my lack of specific detail. Does an airliner traveling coast to coast get at least a mile above the surface? I had NO idea! I'd assumed so, but I didn't want lack of knowledge of a very commonly known fact among at least one segment of the population mar the story (assuming it would have a chance, otherwise...).
So, as BD was heading in and I out, I asked him the question. He not only knew the answer, but could give graphic specifics and make it live, just the way Dad would have. In essence, 30,000 feet would be 5 or six miles above. (He knew exact feet per mile conversion and did the math in his head... So DAD!)
I waited too long before posting, so I've forgotten how he just perfectly naturally wondered why I wanted to know. It was not in a "gee, are you really that dumb," vein at all. So, I told him about the story and the Mile High Club.
"I've heard of that," he said, eyes twinkling, a smile wanting to play about his lips. (Oh, so just like DAD!)
"Most people have." Liberated. Definitely liberated. I shifted my armload of electrical drill, bill, and sack, to fish the keys out of my back pocket, then continued out to the car and drove home, laughing.