Absolutely Bananas: Seattle mom blog

Something roaring this way comes

It’s Seafair weekend in Seattle, our annual summer celebration marked by hydroplane races, festivals, music… and the Blue Angels. Six blue and yellow F/A-18 Hornets (that’s a SUPER FAST airplane, in case you didn’t know) that perform aerial tricks so unbelievable, they’re sure to blow your mind.

I was raised on the Blue Angels. Every year my family would make the pilgrimage to ooh and ahh at their aeronautical feats. And now I find myself with a little boy who loves airplanes and especially jets, so going to watch them fly is a no-brainer. And oh, what a day! I will never forget this day!

It’s just before lunch time. We climb into the car and head for Seward Park by way of Metropolitan Market to pick up food for a picnic lunch.

From the front seat, I am trying to explain to CJ what exactly the Blue Angels are. “They’re really fast jet planes, that are BLUE, and they do really cool tricks.” I tell him.

“Tricks?” CJ looks skeptical. “Are they loud?” (he’s just coming off a bad ZooTunes experience, and is very wary of any sort of thing that’s too noisy)

“Well, sort of.” I tell him. “But it’s loud like the airplanes that fly over our house at dinner time… it’s a cool kind of loud.”

“Okay…” he says, temporarily appeased, but I can see he’s not convinced.

“Really, it’s so cool! They go like THIS… RRRVVVBBRRLPP!! and then VOOORRRRMMM!” I make whirring engine sounds and flail my arm around trying to demonstrate the flying thrills, almost running us off the road. Both hands back on the wheel, I tell myself, Oh he’ll see. He’s going to love it- I can’t wait to see his face.

But as we drive south I begin to worry. The clouds have moved in and it’s beginning to rain. Will we be able to see the Angels? Will they even fly if it’s raining?

A few blocks from the park, CJ lets out a yell. “THERE THEY ARE!” and points up at the sunroof. I crane my neck to get a peek, and sure enough… I see the unmistakable tight formation that can only mean one thing… THE BLUE ANGELS! My heart begins to race, and I feel like a little girl again. I have to hurry! They’ve already started!

The great thing about seeing the Blue Angels fly on Friday is that most of the city is at work (suckers!) so the parks and roadways, which are typically packed and overflowing on the weekends, are actually roomy and passable. We hurry down to the grassy bank overlooking Lake Washington and spread out our coats on the ground. As I unpack our lunch, I hear the roar of the engines, and the Blue Angels sail by. It’s really not that loud, I think to myself, a little surprised. This must just be the perfect spot… you can see them, but the noise isn’t too bad. CJ is loving it. I am loving it. I want to pinch myself… This is the LIFE!

Then to top off our already pretty perfect day with a big fat cherry, the sun comes out. Warm, radiant, glorious. The clouds disappear into the horizon leaving us with a dazzling blue sky whose brilliance is rivaled only by the sparkling water. Off in the distance I can see the I-90 floating bridge, and just above it fly the BLUE ANGELS!!! Yeah!

I dip my crusty french bread into still-warm cioppino and marvel that I get to do this on a Friday afternoon.

And then, as seems to happen when you tempt the gods with too much overt happiness, our glorious day begins an out-of-control spiral straight down into the mud.

It is quiet for several minutes. We munch on our food and soak in the sun, lulled to complacency by its warmth. I wonder if the show is over… but no one around us is leaving. So we wait.

And then, from directly behind us and so close I swear we could almost touch them, all six jet planes come screaming over at sound-barrier breaking, ear-drum damaging speed. And all hell breaks loose. Well, at least for one little 4-year old boy who I happen to love dearly.

I see CJ’s sandwich fly across the grass as he slams his hands to his ears. “NOOO!!!” he screams, his face contorted by sheer terror.

I pull him into my lap, trying to comfort him. But there will be no comforting this day.

The fly-by is the beginning of the real show. No more quiet. No more hearing… anything. They are RIGHT THERE above our heads spiraling and looping, diving and flipping. It is amazing and it is LOUD. Earth-shaking, the-sky-must-be-falling, thunder-seems-quiet-after-this loud. And my poor little son, who is rather sensitive to noise, comes unglued. “I want them to LAND!” he howls.

I throw our lunch into the bag and we make our way up the street with CJ’s little hands firmly lodged against his ears the whole way. The air is filled with exhaust and the smell of jet fuel. And the noise! for a brief moment I have a small sense for the terror that people in war-torn countries feel when they hear jets flying overhead. And I understand how scared my CJ is.

Our car provides us with a safe haven from the noise. We can see the blue streaks from the windows, but the thunderous accompaniment is muffled by the glass and the sweet sounds of Elton John on the radio. I guess nothing seems quiet as scary when it’s accompanied by “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” And so CJ stops crying.

I, on the other hand, have a lump in my throat. I must be the world’s meanest mother. How could I have thought that the Blue Angels would be fun? How did I forget the NOISE?

And so I reach back and earnestly pat CJ’s leg saying, “CJ, I’m so sorry you were scared. Mommy never meant for that to be scary for you.”

“It’s ok, mom.” He tells me.

He has pulled a toy jet plane from his pocket, and he zooms it through the air into flips and dives. “This is the LOUD one!” he announces. He is fine.

Our drive home is accompanied by the sporadic roar as the Blue Angels fly out the remainder of the air show. CJ falls asleep, and I sing along to Enya. As I pull into the driveway, I think that maybe we’ll try it again in 5 years or so… with earplugs.

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