The Final Day
Posted Saturday July 27, 2019
When I stepped through the door around 8:30 this morning, it was already hot out. I groaned inwardly: we were about to pay for the pleasantly overcast weather we had yesterday.
I broke my fast as has become my habit, at the Blackhawk Commons cafeteria on campus. It's not what I would call great food, but it's nine bucks and has a better variety than I'd get at the airport. It's also right next to the bus stop, so it's a logical path to follow to get to Oshkosh.
High on my list today was doing the Vintage area tram tour, which has eluded me the last few days. I actually went to the Warbirds area first, but the line looked quite long (thank the Saturday crowd), and there were no trams in sight. I realized I didn't want to wait in the hot sun for a tour I wasn't sure I'd enjoy. So, I turned around and walked back to Vintage. This is a walk of perhaps 10-15 minutes, so I felt a little silly having gone all the way to Warbirds only to have to turn around and re-trace my steps.
One of the shaded trams transporting folks around Oshkosh
No matter, I got myself into the Vintage tour line, which was much smaller. Aside from the uncomfortably intense sunlight, all seemed about right. When the tram finally arrived, I was a bit sad to see that it had no sunshade like the rest of the trams did. Ah well. The tour took us past a lot of planes I'd walked past earlier in the week. I noted that many of the planes I'd seen earlier in the week were gone, which supports my supposition that the pilots who fly in for the week don't typically stick around for the madding crowds on the weekend. I've thought to myself more than once, as I've seen people poking and prodding at airplanes clearly marked "DO NOT TOUCH" that I was glad I hadn't actually flown Norbert all the way to Oshkosh.
An award-winning DeHavilland Moth biplane
It was nice to get the guided tour, despite the sun. It added a dimension to know more about the planes we were passing, many of which had otherwise blended together into one big plane-shaped mass in my head.
The Vintage tourguide mentioned that the Ford Trimotor rides were availble for a surprisingly small price ($55), and I decided to make that my next stop after the tour. It was, naturally, back in the Warbirds area. However, when I got there, I was weirdly disappointed to see that the cost was higher than he'd said, but still $50-75 cheaper than I'd imagined it would be. It's funny how disappointed expectations can be so powerful. I decided I didn't need to wait in a long line to pay $77 for a ride in a Trimotor, for all that it is a pretty cool plane. Back toward Vintage.
Norbert enjoyed many sights from his perch in my backpack; here he is picture at a forum on 3D printing aircraft parts
During all this time, the temperature kept going up. I don't know what the high was today, but it must have been in the 90s with a good dose of humidity to keep things sticky. Lunch ended up being a scoop of ice cream after a too-large breakfast, and I drifted to the NASA booth to see if my scientist friend was there, and to spend a bit of time in the air-conditioned space. She was indeed there, demonstrating the RC plane simulator, and we chatted in brief snippets between her instructions to new players who would come up and fly for a shorter or longer period before dashing the model P-51 Mustang into the ground in a scatter of broken wings.
My next destination was to be the museum, but she'd disappeared mid-conversation and I felt weird leaving that hanging. I waited for a bit, then asked one of her colleagues, who said she was on break. I asked him to tell her I'd said goodbye, so it didn't seem like I'd just disappeared, then I was off to the museum.
Between the heat and my low spirits over my interactions with this NASA scientist (who I'm now going to arbitrarily call Jane just so I don't have to keep typing out "NASA scientist," though I still have no idea what her name is), I ended up taking a break under a giant tent near the KidVenture area that looked like it was set up for a banquet. It was a few minutes to ponder why I was creating this emotional drama for myself; for there is no question in my mind that this whole thing is only happening in my head. I couldn't come up with an answer. I'm still feeling melancholy about the whole thing, though I'm hopeful that tomorrow, with my return journey starting, I can stop thinking about it. As of this afternoon, there's nothing I could do about it if she did contact me, so hopefully I can just let it all go.
The nose of the Bugatti 100 Air Racer
Finally I collected myself, and continued on to the museum. I walked through and spotted some things I hadn't seen the last time. One example is a Bugatti racing plane that used two engines with counter-rotating props, and which had the engines located mid-fuselage with driveshafts that went up to the front. It's a very sleek-looking design, and I was surprised to find that it predated WWII by a bit. Apparently when the Germans invaded France, this racer was shoved in a barn and covered up, and stayed that way for years. It represented such advanced aviation technology that the French were horrified the Germans might get their hands on it and use it in the war effort. It looks like a jet fighter, and was clearly a decade or so ahead of the state of the art.
I took in a few other planes, listening to Dick Rutan give the same talk I'd heard yesterday. I wandered further into the Eagle Hangar, where they were displaying nose art from WWII bombers. Of course they were universally semi-clothed women in improbable heels and labor-intensive 40s coiffures. Artifacts of their time, to be sure.
I think I left the museum until too late in my visit. My brain is already so saturated with everything I've seen that it was hard to really take in any more. I found myself mostly wandering through, not really seeing anything. On the walk back, I decided I'd drop by to see if Jane was there so I could complete the conversation and say good-bye, then make my way back to the dorm. I'd had enough, with the heat and the zillions of people and the sensory overload from airplanes and helicopters constantly flying overhead.
The path from the museum to KidVenture
Fortunately, she was there, so I said I was glad we'd had a chance to talk and that I wanted to talk more. If she was interested in that, she has my information. It seemed cordial but she didn't seem to care one way or another, which is probably the best outcome I could expect. This at least releases me from the majority of further anxiety.
I checked on the Fond du Lac schedule with the bus stop folks (30 after the hour, once an hour; right, I should have remembered that), and got myself onto a dorm bus when the next one arrived, and dragged myself to the dorm, worn out with heat.
Because I left so early, it was only about 5 when I got to the dorms, but I was glad to have the time to do some departure planning. There's a cold front that'll be coming through tomorrow which may make my departure interesting, but it looks like the NOAA forecasts are frequently more pessimistic than what actually happens, as far as thunderstorm activity. I planned out a couple of legs away from Fond du Lac, stopping at Staples, MN again if things work out according to plan.
Earlier in the week, I had wanted to visit the American Champion Aircraft factory, but at this point I think I'm full up to here, and just wanted to start heading for home.
I'm planning shorter legs, trying to space them about 2 hours long instead of the 3 I was planning on the way in. I figure the wind will be against me, and with that factor being somewhat unpredictable, I may be happy to have the extra margin. Or I may find that the wind just isn't as bad as I think it will be, and the 2 hour legs will be silly. The only way to find out is to do it, but 2 hours is definitely the safer option.
Dinner tonight was a sandwich at the local sandwich shop ("What are your vegetarian sandwiches?" "Just the one there, the 'Vegetarian Avocado'." "Oh. I guess I'll have that one, then."). On my way out I'd stopped by the front desk to see if the sandwich shop was good, and was assured it was. I was hoping Sydney would be there, but it was someone else, who said that Sydney's shift is 6-12. I was half an hour too early. She asked me if I was the guest who'd been promising Sydney chocolate cake (I am not), but suddenly all I wanted was chocolate cake. I resolved to see if I could find some. When I finished my dinner at the sandwich shop, I asked the gent behind the counter. He couldn't think of a place to get chocolate cake, but recommended the cookie store behind the sandwich shop. I stopped in and got a half-dozen very good cookies, kept in a special warming oven so they're warm and gooey when you get them. There was a head shop next door. Well played, store owners.
Sydney was there when I returned, and accepted a cookie, even though it wasn't chocolate cake. We conversed briefly, but I had to excuse myself since I had chores to finish before tomorrow morning, including writing this entry.
I devised a devious and slightly scandalous plan to make my laundry effort tonight more efficient: in order to wash both sets of shorts and underwear, I donned my longjohn bottoms and the new Oshkosh 2019 shirt I bought today to wear down to the laundry room. The longjohn bottoms are not intended as outerwear. I'm not shy about wearing tights, but the Y-front opening in the longjohns may be a trifle too permissive in the matter of gapping open. No screaming ladies clutching their handbags yet, but I still have to go retrieve my laundry from the dryer, so there's always a chance.
The rest of tonight will be repacking my somewhat disarrayed baggage once the laundry is done, and arranging everything for a fairly speedy departure tomorrow. I'm planning to hit the cafeteria for breakfast, come back to the room and check out, and hopefully time it all out so I'm not sitting at the Oshkosh bus stop for 55 minutes, having just missed the bus. Then I'll check over Norbert, probably request fuel, and launch for Boyceville Municipal Airport (land of $4 gas and about 2 hours away). If things go according to plan, I should be launching around 11 am CDT (9 am PDT) tomorrow, though it may be closer to 12 if plans go awry, as they so often do. So if you're following along at home, that's about the hour to start checking the flight trackers, mentioned on the front page of this journal.
Copyright © 2019 by Ian Johnston.