I dined Sunday evening with the Philly Flyers, Dan Banjock and Dennis Moritz, at the Sunshine, Bill Rich's favorite restaurant. There was a wide-ranging conversation. At many points I had to defend my Hoosier heritage. For example, I argued that attaching pictures to the wall with particle board screws though the frame was merely the Sunshine's way of doing it, and not representative of all Hoosiers, who should not be judged by the actions of one restaurant. The subject of laughter came up. "The Philly Flyers are known for laughter," said Dan. "What are we laughing at?" asked Dennis quizzically.
Monday I flew a little stunt after the quite satisfactory appearance judging (the pizazz added by the artisanal vortex generators made up for the dings acquired over the last year) and dined at the DQ, now open later than 10:00, with aviators, who told interesting aviation stories.
I flew a little stunt this morning so's to be coached by a famous stunt coach. Said coach, I have observed, has two modes: Encouragement mode and Coaching mode. When one is flying substandardly, he just says what a great flight one did. One has to reach a certain level before actual coaching takes place. I seem to be somewhere on the border. He applauded when I got the first loop of my vertical eight somewhere close to 45 degrees on the second try.
I sold some VGs to the National Stunt Champion this morning. He didn't have them on his plane for appearance judging, therefore he can't use them in the contest, so he's screwed. Don't let this happen to you.
We became becalmed, so I went to the Twelfth Street and had lunch with people from Ohio and Michigan, who told me about the tilt in the Great Lakes, something that they tell to outsiders, I think.
All meals described so far included fried mush, a delicacy of my people, except for the DQ, which was a cone.