Babes Maj and Barb, Having a Bad Plane Day
Believe me, we are all serious pilots. It was started by a bunch of middle-aged broads (we're all in our 40s) who recently started flying in reaction to the collective "mid-life crisis." (If we were guys, we'd probably be driving red Porsches.) We are in this for fun, not for a career change. The name "Babes and Airplanes" came from a long-ago posting on the AOPA website message boards by an ATP (commercial airline pilot) named Ralph, who wanted to know where he could get pictures of "good-lookin' babes and airplanes." We jumped all over him!!! How rude and sexist!!! Through us gals blabbing and joking with each other, and picking on poor Ralph, we became pals and eventually decided to take the name on for ourselves. Through the AOPA message boards, this original group of five or six people has grown to many. Both women and men. Both younger and older. From Mexico to Alaska, from the Pacific to the Atlantic. The only prerequisite is that you must have a sense of humor. We're famous for sacrificing chickens to the checkride and weather gods. We also dream about the ideal plane, which would, of course, have a hot tub in the back. Since most pilots are men (only six percent are gals) the gal babes in the group try to coerce the "wives" into becoming pilots themselves. Our goal is to increase the current 6% female pilot population to at least 6.005% by the year 2000. As a group of pilots we ABSOLUTELY believe in being serious and safe. Because we are all fairly new pilots we continuously encourage each other to really learn how to fly. (The Private certificate is a license to learn.) Because we live in different states, we rendezvous in new places each time we fly, always a learning experience. And, we always leave a copy of the above, "Bad Plane Day" picture on the bulletin boards of the FBO's we stop at, and on the sides of cash registers at the restaurants where we eat.(BTW, no, we didn't break it, just stumbled across it. It's all better now and back in the air.) We may take our flying seriously, but we also have a lot of fun.
The Gospel according to Mark The Gods These come in two different flavors: Checkride and Weather These gods control the lives of Babes and others and must be worshiped and have sacrifices made theretofore upon to asunder. The Checkride God is
fickle and at a whim can dash the hopes and dreams of a
fledgling Babe. On the night preceeding a babe facing the
dreaded DE (son of Checkride God), the faithful must
sacrifice a chicken, whilst raising a glass of Merlot to
praise the CRG. If the sacrifice was successful, another
duckie is born. The Duck  In the beginning, the Founding Babes needed to make a sacrifice and were sent forth throughout the land to find an appropriate fowl. One unnamed Babe, seeking the Holy Rubber Chicken, was unable to find such a beast, and settled upon a rubber duckie, hence forth to be known throughout the land as the Alpha Duck, who was thence cast upon the waters of Hot Tub and sent forth to begat. It was decreed that Dave the Duckman should be the keeper and when a new Student Babe was born, a baby duckie was to be given to celebrate a first solo, and whence a new Pilot Babe was born (or a new rating bestowed) a direct Alpha Duck descendent should be given and celebrated. As protection against all evil, said duckie should ride proudly on the glareshield as protection for the Babe and when on the ground, the duckie shall serve as a sign to all that herein lives a True Babe. Also, all duckies should come once a year in Mecca (OSH) to hot tub parties to partake in flying lessons, lest they forget their purpose in life. The Frog Once upon a time, a certain Neander, known to some as Rick, spake foul of all things P.C. and femaleish. Know to cavort with Midwestern Cows, this one established new lows in the testosterone poisoned species and as knuckles dragged lower and lower upon the ground, a reversion took place as it slithered back into the slime to thence again become a frog. Spending much time in hot water, the frog was eventually joined by others, spending their time in the frog pot, being roasted slowly by the testosterone challenged. His offspring have been, on occassion, sacrificed in the form of a frog legs dinner, following a severe pithing. The FrogHouse If the "PC" envelope is pushed to the max or general consideration for the other gender, um, princess, is not up to "General Princess Operating Standards" the offending "frog" is banished to the doghouse which was renamed "The FrogHouse." The froghouse has since become a safehaven for frogs who like to push the sensibility envelope just far enough to make a "Princess" snap. Between the help of legions of others was well as Dad, LeapFrog, Dave and I, we made quite place for ourselves with a Coors cured couch, a voluminous refrigerator, and the TV Remote of Honor.Flash, Frog Jr., OotG Notes from Razor: Saturday 25 March 2006, 12:15pm Class title: "How to Cook Bulk Frog Legs" Description and Materials: Will use live frogs (you may bring your own) to start this delightful dish. Will use handy meat cleavers and sharp knives for pithing and dismembering. Saturday 25 March 2006, 3:45pm Class title: "How to Sew a Frog's Lips Shut" Description and Materials: Using yarn needles and 300-lb fishing line, you'll learn the best way to keep irrelevant chatter from affecting you ever again. The technique can also be used to sew a frog's fingers together to prevent keyboard outbursts. Practice frogs will be provided, however you may feel free to bring your own. So, Dave, which class would you like to attend with me? Razor The Snake The snake, known as Viper, has risen above the slime and goo of Frogdom, to a new level of goodness and mercy. BTW, that whole apple thing was blown way out of proportion by the media and was just a result of a simple misunderstanding and some bad press. OOTG The highest rank a knuckle dragging Neander can attain. After many year of servitude, perhaps a very few can reach the rank of BIC (Babe in Command) of a mission. After many missions, much groveling, worshipping of the Estrogen Enhanced, and only at a large gathering of the Babes, Lady M & M may see fit to bestow the coveted honor of OOTG - One of the Girls. Many have tried, few have succeeded....... So spaketh the Webdaddy...Go forth and be fruitful and multiply
How do I become a Babe?Stick your arms straight out at your sides, spin
around 3 times while making airplane noises with your
mouth.. send me a picture of yourself with a plane (or
without if you don't have one with) and keep the spirit
and love of GA alive... spread the word.
TestimonialsBeing a fringe member of the Babes (being married,
over 50, living in IA, and STILL working on my IFR), I
can only reflect on an early December evening in St.
Charles, IL that I spent with Maj. Maj proved a great
dinner companion because we couldn't bore each other with
pilot and plane talk. I am impressed with her flying
skills and her dedication to improving them. The founding
of Babes as an option to the 99's means no dues,
spontaneity, and a lot of laughs. There aren't many of us
women private pilots anyway, at least not here in Iowa,
and it's great to know we can get together to party and
for mutual support. I fondly remember the last time I was
carded (I was 28) so being a Babe isn't a handicap for
me!! Besides since I learned to fly (at age 51) I have
begun to feel and look younger. (Two years ago a Japanese
business associate of my husband's asked him if I was 35.
Sure liked that!)
Maxfield Parrish
We often take for granted that tomorrow will always come. People who have experienced the uncertainty and mortality of life are the ones who most appreciate the time we have here. We're the ones who notice how the sunset turns the clouds shades of orange and gold you can't get in a crayola box. We're the ones who fly so we can be closer to it, maybe reach out and grab hold of something ethereal. ...unconditional love between two people. We all want it, but we don't get it very often because it's so hard to give. I'm as guilty as anyone. Sorrow, fear, pain, loss, are the only ways that teach you how to really live. Sounds trite, but it's true, even if it doesn't make it any easier. Carolyn "Razor" |
My friend Mary died of breast
cancer at the age of 37. She had a rose tatooed on her
back, and just, in general, loved roses. After her death,
I had an open rose tattooed above my ankle, not only in
her memory, but to remind me to live each day to it's
fullest...