Flight journal: Prologue (part 3-last)
Posted: Sat Dec 23, 2006 8:06 pmPrologue-part 3
It was a weekday afternoon, and I was a bit surprised that it seemed fairly quiet at Teterboro. I had three schools here to check out...
First stop on my list was a very swanky-looking place on the west side of the field. When the receptionist finally noticed me in the gleaming lobby, she indicated a pile of price lists. I almost dropped the one I picked up- if the reception was a bit cool, the prices were chilling!!
I think I left without even taking the list; it was stupefying.
I was already discouraged. Was this the norm for this airport? I hoped not. I'd been told where to look for the next school on that side of the runways, and soon found a small cardboard sign on a hangar wall indicating its presence there. But a search through the narrow office hallways proved fruitless. It looked like they had perhaps moved, or were moving: looking through one glass door, I saw a pile of boxes, etc. but there were no more signs, no note, no nothing... nothing which might direct potential customers to their present location.
I shrugged, got in my car, and drove over to the east side of the field.
My next prospect was the first one I'd heard about here, but I had been hesitant to look at it because it was actually inside the airport's Flight Standards District Office. Something about being that close to The FAA Itself bothered me initially.
But there could be advantages, I realized as I parked there... perhaps this school has to maintain a higher standard in such a setting.
As I entered, I was encouraged by the fact that the first instructor who greeted me was almost as unusual as the two Norwegians I'd met at the other two schools I was considering... he was black! I could not recall ever seeing an African-American at any airport I'd visited so far. I knew there were a good number of black pilots in the USA, but I hadn't met or even seen one in person. He'd have to do more than be dark-skinned to prove a worthy instructor, though... that really made no difference to me one way or another. But it was curious: two Norwegian pilots and one black pilot since I started searching...
He was also another eager beaver: practically pounced on me, introducing himself and carefully reciting a string of Interesting Facts about the school while shoving a price list into my hand. I immediately liked him.
A whirlwind tour followed: a video library; classroom; simulators... the school seemed well-equipped. In no time at all we were out on the ramp, where I would meet the fleet.
A sharp-looking 150 with a fresh paint job caught my eye, but E. led me straight to the nearest 172.
Again, the ritual began: sitting in the airplane, talking about taking lessons. I was still fairly certain I wanted to start with 150s, but was curious about its 4-seat cousin. It was definitely roomier, and E. pointed out that it had a much better power-off glide ratio. I made a note to move up to this type at some point, but told E. I'd probably start out in a 150.
He seemed sad about that, although he no longer tried to discourage me, and I didn't know why... until later.
By the time I left, I'd decided to begin my training odyssey there, but didn't have sufficient funds yet to make a deposit. I'd soon be back, however...
Next: first "official" flying lesson!
It was a weekday afternoon, and I was a bit surprised that it seemed fairly quiet at Teterboro. I had three schools here to check out...
First stop on my list was a very swanky-looking place on the west side of the field. When the receptionist finally noticed me in the gleaming lobby, she indicated a pile of price lists. I almost dropped the one I picked up- if the reception was a bit cool, the prices were chilling!!
I think I left without even taking the list; it was stupefying.
I was already discouraged. Was this the norm for this airport? I hoped not. I'd been told where to look for the next school on that side of the runways, and soon found a small cardboard sign on a hangar wall indicating its presence there. But a search through the narrow office hallways proved fruitless. It looked like they had perhaps moved, or were moving: looking through one glass door, I saw a pile of boxes, etc. but there were no more signs, no note, no nothing... nothing which might direct potential customers to their present location.
I shrugged, got in my car, and drove over to the east side of the field.
My next prospect was the first one I'd heard about here, but I had been hesitant to look at it because it was actually inside the airport's Flight Standards District Office. Something about being that close to The FAA Itself bothered me initially.
But there could be advantages, I realized as I parked there... perhaps this school has to maintain a higher standard in such a setting.
As I entered, I was encouraged by the fact that the first instructor who greeted me was almost as unusual as the two Norwegians I'd met at the other two schools I was considering... he was black! I could not recall ever seeing an African-American at any airport I'd visited so far. I knew there were a good number of black pilots in the USA, but I hadn't met or even seen one in person. He'd have to do more than be dark-skinned to prove a worthy instructor, though... that really made no difference to me one way or another. But it was curious: two Norwegian pilots and one black pilot since I started searching...
He was also another eager beaver: practically pounced on me, introducing himself and carefully reciting a string of Interesting Facts about the school while shoving a price list into my hand. I immediately liked him.
A whirlwind tour followed: a video library; classroom; simulators... the school seemed well-equipped. In no time at all we were out on the ramp, where I would meet the fleet.
A sharp-looking 150 with a fresh paint job caught my eye, but E. led me straight to the nearest 172.
Again, the ritual began: sitting in the airplane, talking about taking lessons. I was still fairly certain I wanted to start with 150s, but was curious about its 4-seat cousin. It was definitely roomier, and E. pointed out that it had a much better power-off glide ratio. I made a note to move up to this type at some point, but told E. I'd probably start out in a 150.
He seemed sad about that, although he no longer tried to discourage me, and I didn't know why... until later.
By the time I left, I'd decided to begin my training odyssey there, but didn't have sufficient funds yet to make a deposit. I'd soon be back, however...
Next: first "official" flying lesson!
