Recipe for an Airshow
You might think you need airplanes for an airshow. But you’d be wrong. The American Heroes Airshow has no fixed wing aircraft. Hell no. This show is all about aircraft with rotors. You know, helicopters. We’ve got Army National Guard. Navy. Coast Guard. Search and Rescue. ABC7. UCLA. Police. Sheriff. Cal Fire. I’m not going to name all of them, but they’re landing in five minute intervals on the big grass field at Hansen Dam Recreational Area. Some stay all day. One gets stuck. Another couple of birds have to leave prior to expected. At least one cancelled at the last minute. You can catch a ride for less than a hundred bucks, or stay on the ground and visit the booths, where you’ll meet firefighters, police, deputies, sailors, soldiers, Boy Scouts, one year we even had the Secret Service. You can eat world class tri-tip sandwiches on brioche buns or St Louis Ribs with baked beans and cole slaw. Buy cotton candy, inflatable toys of questionable origin, even mango. Ready to become a US citizen? Every year, several dozen individuals of all ages from just about everywhere take the oath as new Americans right here by the fire trucks.
Firefighter Washington poses with the ABC7 helicopter. His dad worked for ABC for 35 years. Joe’s nephew flies with Cal Fire. Joe hasn’t seen him in months. The Civil Air Patrol, young and eager, make sure no one’s out on the field when they’re not supposed to be. They’ve been on scene since 4am. I’m partial to the Air Bosses with their bright orange sticks, guiding the helicopters in and out with their synchronized movements. The lead Air Boss, Dave, is so badass he doesn’t even need the sticks, just his fluorescent gloved hands proving he’s the boss of boss. We’ve got wall to wall photographers, one of whom won’t pose for photographs. They’re aviation guys who know all about helicopters, and me, well, I just love them the way a newborn loves his mama, not knowing who she is beyond knowing she’s mama. This time, I learn that the Coast Guard helicopter is a Dolphin. It’s got that neat looking rotor in its tail. And it’s orange, not camo like the other branches.
Ramsey’s a 23 year old Blackhawk pilot. Let that sink in. He joined the Guard at the age of 19. He’s quick to smile, and by the end of the day, he’s offering us bottles of water and cold pizza they’re going to ditch before heading back to base.
We’ve been going non-stop since the 4am briefing at Denny’s. The field is clearing out, and by 4, all the birds are gone except for the Search and Rescue guys from Lemoore. They’ve got a bad starter, awaiting word on whether they’re ok to fly on one engine to reach repairs nearby. I’m sure they’ll get some sort of approval for something, even if it means waiting four hours for a truck to come haul their bird away. I’d like to see how it turns out, or at the very least be the last photographer off the field, but I call it a day and head on home. Goodnight, Mama Bird. I’ll be back for more real soon.