I feel the need... The need for speed!
I think I’ve said before that, before I sufficiently lowered my standards and decided I wanted to be an Actor, I wanted to join the Royal Air Force. It was 1988 when I made my decision; for some reason Mum had allowed me to watch Top Gun on VHS and I was sold. Fast jets? Yes please. Kelly McGillis? Well, I may have been eight years old but I knew that I liked her. Saving the day? You betcha bottom dollar, sonny. I knew then that I would grow up and go to Miramar, and I wouldn’t end up flying a ‘plane full of rubber dogshit out of Hong Kong.

For the next five years, my appetite for anything linked to planes and flying was practically unquenchable. I even played Top Gun in the playground, using the strip of concrete outside of the classrooms as an ‘Aircraft Carrier’. Stuart was my Wingman (the Iceman to my Maverick), and life was good.

Before long, my thirteenth birthday dawned. I was finally old enough to join the Air Cadets. Finally, I would have a taste of what life in the forces might be like, and this would also get me brownie points for when I applied for the forces in years to come. OK, so the F-14 wouldn’t be my plane, but the Tornado GR-4 was better anyway. For the next 3 years I was industrious – I gained my solo glider pilot wings, racking up thousands of hours in the process. I made hundreds of hours in small prop planes. I even, on one memorable trip, got to sit in the jump seat of a GR-4.

I climbed the small ladder that lead to the cockpit. Making myself comfortable in the seat, I looked at the myriad dials in front of me. I looked to my left, and saw a small box with yellow and black chevrons upon it, out of which came a small handle.

“Do Not Touch!” It explained, “Ejection Control”.

Tentatively, on some level not even aware of what I was doing, I reached out. Perhaps I was (in my mind) in a flat spin, on the point of ejecting far behind enemy lines. My fingertips connected with the ejection control.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice from the real world “not if you want to get splattered on the roof of this hangar.”

Slowly, I retracted my fingers. Splatterfication would definitely limit my aspirations when it came to fast-jet flight.

And so came the fateful day where my life would change. A RAF careers man came to my ATC Squadron, and gave a careers talk. I took notes. I studied what life would be like in the armed forces. I resolved that I would get through basic training, and then in to fighter school. I needed only to know one thing.

“Excuse me, Sir.” I said “what qualifications would I need to join as a pilot? I want to fly fast jets.” – I was nearly sixteen.

“I’m sorry son,” came the response, “but you wear glasses. All pilots have to have 20/20 vision to fly fast jets.”

Oh, shit. Shit. That’s the last eight years out of the window then. I was completely, utterly dejected. The sense must have filled the room, because he followed that little gem up with:

“But you could join Air Traffic Control.”

“What? Fuck you, you patronising fuck. I’ve just had my dream torn in to a thousand pieces and your recommendation is a desk job? Shut up. Fuck you, you fucking dick.” – Just some of the words that I did not say to him.

To this day, the one thing that I have ever been sure of is my desire to fly. And, because of stupid biology, whenever I see the fast jets flying overhead I inwardly sigh, and dream of being up there, with the best of the best.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:08, 14 replies)

But this is the future!
Lasers! Laser-eye-fixing.
( Cawl, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:12, closed)

*clicks*
and sympathises with having spastic eyes.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:12, closed)

That sucks.
I'm sorry.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:14, closed)

This wont help...
As a US Marine, I have several buddies who are still in, flying and all that fun stuff. I've also done the unthinkable and become friends with Air Force and Navy types, most of whom are pilots.

Presently, in the US military: 20/20 vision is no longer a requirement. "Vision correctible to 20/20" is fine.

So my buddies who now wear Major, Lt Colonel and Colonel rank and fly jets ALSO wear glasses. Scary.

Sorry mate. If it's any consolation, I was originally slated for Pensacola for flight school. 1991 post Gulf War was a BAD time to be sitting with a ticket to flight school. So I left that slot and entered intelligence. Not a bad move, but ultimately, whenever I was in the shit, there was some lucky bastard screaming overhead in an F-18 or a Harrier.

But at least "I" go to see the look in the eyes of the people I shot. :D

Cheers!
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:15, closed)

My friend had a similar problem
He was too tall for fighter jets, but at least they gave him helicopters to fly instead, Chinooks to be precise.
(Jugular, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:16, closed)

@ Jugular
Over here, well, at least in the Marines, we refer to Chinooks as "Shit Hooks". Just in case you come over here and are jabbering away about it and the Marines in the corner start giving you dirty looks. :)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:21, closed)

this ALSO wont help
My buddy was the commander of a National Guard fighter squadron: F-16's. He was recently promoted.

Two summers ago, the squadron was being deployed to Iraq. I arranged for my Niece's band to play their deployment party in the Colonel's back yard.

So he gets back from Iraq with a bunch of thank you gifts: a squadron beer stein, some t-shirts, an American flag flown over the US Capitol Building AND Baghdad (they are Washington, DC National Guard, so on Sept 11, they were the fighter CAP over DC).

So a couple of weeks ago, he is promoted to Operations Group Commander and I went to the change of command ceremony. He comes up, all smiles and says "It's about fucking TIME you make it down here you asshole!" And I laughed and said "yeah, you're right." He then says: "If it weren't for this ceremony, I could give your REAL thank you gift for setting up your Niece to play that party."

"Oh? What's that ask I?"

"Cant tell you. Come down to the house after this and I will tell you about it."

So I drain a couple of beers at the after party at the base and then head to his house. He hands my a flight suit. I thought: "oh, this is cool."

Not the gift. I am getting two hours of simulator time and then a 30 minute hop over Washington, DC. I will post pictures if anyone is interested. :)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:26, closed)

@Kaol
Even if I fixed my eyes, I'm too old to join now! :(

@Citadel: I'd be interested in seeing those pics... That sounds incredible!

EDIT: SHIT! Stupid being British. Oh well. You still in the Marines, Citadel? That may well qualify you as being the scariest man on B3ta! :)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:34, closed)

Roger
I will send them over once I have returned from the sortie!

From the looks of things, August or early September is when it will take place. It IS good to know some in relatively high places. :)
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 16:38, closed)

That struck a chord
I didn't go through the air cadets but always wanted to fly a Torando. Luckily an RAF recruiter shot those dreams down early, for the same reason.
(paxvobiscum, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 1:40, closed)

Awwww...
*hugs DiT*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 27 Jun 2008, 9:56, closed)

Me too
Eight year old PJM wanted to be a pilot in the RAF. Not flying any old fast jet, oh no... It had to be Lightnings.

Never mind that they're chronically under-armed and under fuelled, despite being five decades old, they're one of the fastest jets ever to take to the skies.

For a paltry couple of grand, I still can have a go in one here:

www.thundercity.com/

Fancy climbing skyward from the runway to 50,000 feet in sixty seconds anyone?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 27 Jun 2008, 10:33, closed)

Same here
When younger I wanted to join the RAF as a pilot but realised/was told earlier than you (thankfully) that with my spastic eyes I didnt stand a chance. Another ambition dashed.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 28 Jun 2008, 10:32, closed)

My story's worse
I actually passed all the medicals, aptitude tests, interviews and selection, and was awarded a University Bursary as a pilot. I spent three years flying Bulldogs in between lectures, but two months before I was supposed to go to Cranwell for Initial Officer Training I was "chopped" for failing to make sufficient progress (I was only up to spin aero checks). So basically I had the physical and mental aptitude, but being a student turned me into a lazy twat.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Wed 2 Jul 2008, 10:31, closed)