Chapter 11 #3
Amelia shrugged. “Then you’re gonna be stuck here until this whole crowd has left the field.”
Pancho huffed, “Delightful.”
Amelia shot her a grin. “Take comfort from the fact that they’re giving you their backs. If you had a shotgun, you could take them all out.”
Pancho’s face lit up. “Oh, my. I do like that idea a whole lot.”
Amelia laughed. “Thought you might. It’s gotten me through many of these dog and pony shows.”
Marvel harrumphed, “I don’t much fancy being a dog or a pony on display.”
Amelia put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And yet, here we are. I expect the whole race will be like this.”
Marvel rolled her eyes, but she supposed Amelia knew what she was talking about. She was the only pilot in the race who’d encountered this degree of public attention before.
Mayor Mack wound down his remarks, and sure enough, as he and his entourage made to leave the Vega, the crowd parted for them.
Amelia darted forward to get right on the mayor’s heels, and Pancho and Marvel lurched into motion behind her.
He headed toward a huge convertible car with a bristling cluster of cameras and journalists set up beside it.
This was all for them? Honestly, it was overwhelming to Marvel.
She’d grown up in the backwoods of Alaska, and these crowds, flashbulbs, and reporters shouting questions were about as far from that as she could get.
So, this was fame, huh? She couldn’t deny that it was thrilling to be the center of so much excitement.
Sternly, she reminded herself that this wasn’t about her.
She and the other racers were doing this for the good of aviation and to prove women were as capable of flying as men.
“Maybe all this hoopla means we’re accomplishing what we set out to do,” Marvel told Pancho. “We’re certainly drawing a lot of attention to women in aviation.”
Even Pancho looked a little bit overwhelmed when she replied, “Maybe we are. I have to say I’ve never seen a crowd this size, and I’ve certainly never been the reason such a crowd gathered.”
Amelia grinned at them. “Welcome to the big time, ladies.”
Mayor Mack paused to preen for the cameras, and a barrage of flashbulbs exploded. When he was satisfied that everyone had a picture of him, only then did he turn to the three women and hold out his hand toward the waiting car.
Marvel took a step toward it, but Pancho grabbed her elbow, forestalling her. She looked questioningly at her friend.
Pancho murmured, “If the politicians get to have their pictures taken because of this race, so should the people flying the actual planes.” She looped her arms over Marvel’s and Amelia’s shoulders, and Marvel threw her arm around Pancho’s waist. Amelia’s arm came to rest above hers on Pancho’s back.
The crowd cheered in delight, and the cameras clicked like a runaway typewriter.
“What do you ladies think of the crowd that turned out to see you today?” a reporter shouted.
Pancho called back, “I think none of these folks want us back in the kitchen, which is just as well, as I’m a terrible cook!”
The crowd laughed much more loudly at her joke than they had at any of the mayor’s. Marvel caught a look of irritation on his face. He didn’t like having his spotlight stolen, did he? Too bad. He wasn’t the one who had risked his neck today to make this giant event possible.
“All aboard, ladies,” he said a shade impatiently.
Pancho ignored him. “Smile for the cameras, girls,” she said cheekily.
Marvel’s cheeks ached by the time the cameras stopped snapping.
Only then did Pancho turn her and Amelia loose.
When Marvel got in the car, Mayor Mack was red-faced in the front passenger seat.
The three of them piled into the back seat.
The other women pilots were being herded toward a half dozen more cars that had pulled up behind the mayor’s car. When all the women pilots, hot and grimy and grinning, were loaded into the convertibles, the drivers inched along, waiting for the crowd to part and let them through.
Amelia commented, “This is the slowest moving parade I’ve ever been a part of. And I’ve never been in one where the crowd was right on top of us like this.”
Marvel looked around in wonder at the excited faces that seemed to go on forever. “I’m never going to forget this day.”
Pancho reached out to squeeze her hand, and the two of them shared a look.
They’d both been through a lot to get here.
They’d spent long years flying in obscurity, honing their skills.
They’d overcome odds that would’ve stopped most people.
And they’d both risked their lives, faced death, and lost friends along the way.
Yet here they were. At the pinnacle of the flying world, being recognized for their accomplishments by tens of thousands of people and probably millions across the country. Marvel lifted her hand and waved.
How many times had she—heck, all of the women here—been told they didn’t have what it took to fly?
Here today, there were plenty of people who seemed to think they’d done a fine job of flying.
Little did they know exactly how much skill all nineteen pilots had shown in successfully landing under these conditions.
Marvel let herself be caught up in the excitement. She wanted to savor it, store away some of this enthusiasm for the next time she had to fight to register for an air derby because of her gender.
“Where are we going?” Amelia asked, frowning. “Usually I get taken to some sort of stage or grandstand where I have to thank everyone for coming and I’m supposed to gush over the event organizers.”
But the mayor’s car seemed to be heading toward the road that ran alongside the airport.
The car stopped, and the mayor turned around in his seat.
“Mrs. Barnes, if you’ll climb out and get in the car waiting ahead of us, you and Mrs. Omlie, today’s winners in your respective classes, will ride in the parade’s first car, please. ”
“Parade?” Pancho echoed. “Now, hold on. I don’t mind being driven around the airfield like a prime heifer on display at the fair. But we need to get our planes refueled, check them over, and get them ready for tomorrow’s leg of the race.”
Mayor Mack shook his head. “All pilots are required to attend the evening gala scheduled at each nightly stopover. It’s in the rules.”
Pancho scowled. “I was there when the rules were written, and I don’t recall any mention of having to go to parties.”
“I have it in writing. The rules clearly state you must attend all festivities in your honor.” He extended his hand toward the waiting car.
“You’ll participate in my parade, or you’ll exit the race right now on the grounds of having violated its rules.
It’s up to you. I’m happy to call the race chairman and let him know you’ve withdrawn. ”
Sensing the volcano forming inside Pancho, Marvel piped up. “How can we be expected to race if we can’t fuel our planes?”
“Planes need to be inspected after every flight,” Amelia chimed in.
The mayor waved at the crowd again before leaning back over the seat to snarl, “The cities hosting this race put up good money to expand and prepare their airfields so this race could happen.” He glared at them before continuing, “Personally, I don’t care one way or the other if you want to risk your pretty little necks in those death traps.
I’m in this for the votes. I promise the lot of you that I will call Horace Aldridge in Cleveland myself to have you booted from this race if you don’t attend tonight’s gala .
. . and, furthermore, charm every last one of my supporters.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at having to explain how the world works to a group of uncouth, thrill-seeking females. ”
The volcano inside Pancho definitely looked ready to explode, and Marvel jumped in to change the subject, praying she was in time to stop Mount Pancho from erupting.
“If you’re in such close communication with Mr. Aldridge, then can you tell us what the race route is for tomorrow?
When we took off this morning, there was still debate over where we are and are not landing tomorrow. ”
Mayor Mack said casually, “Dr. Ayers will make his decision later tonight. At the banquet.” L. W. Ayers was the senior race official traveling with the women and was in charge of making all final decisions regarding the race as issues arose.
Marvel risked a peek at Pancho. Her face was nearly as red as Amelia’s airplane, and her dark eyes sparked more than a locomotive’s wheels when the brakes locked up.
Pancho opened her mouth, but Amelia hastily grabbed her elbow and pulled her around to face the row of cars behind them, where the other women pilots were chatting and laughing with the crowd.
Pancho hissed at Amelia to let her go, but Amelia did not.
Instead, she said in a low voice, “The male pilots have to attend all the banquets, too.”
Phoebe Omlie was walking toward their car with a look of chagrin on her face. “Hey, Pancho,” she said glumly. “Did they tell you they’re going to put you and me on display like jumbo trout?”
Pancho grunted. “We probably smell like dead fish. I want to fuel my plane, plan my route tomorrow, and then I want a bath. In that order—”
Phoebe cut her off. “They said they’d kick me out of the race if I don’t do their parade. Let’s just get this over with, Pancho. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I want to eat before I do all that other stuff.”
Marvel and Amelia both murmured that they could use a bite to eat as well.
Pancho looked at all three of them in disgust. “It’ll serve you girls right if all you get tonight is a plate of rubbery chicken.”
To Marvel’s vast relief, though, Pancho climbed out of the car and trudged over to the lead car with Phoebe.
Yet another disaster averted. Would this day and its challenges never end?