With the recent passing of the legendary basketball player Kobe Bryant, it makes me reflect on the many many times that I flew in helicopters as an engineer visiting my offshore oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico. That was almost 8 years ago since I hovered over the clouds but that is something that I’ll never ever forget.
The very first time I flew in a helicopter for work I was heading to a West Cameron block in offshore Louisiana. It was a little yellow four-seater Bell helicopter. I’m certain when I found out that I got to sit shotgun next to the pilot, my giddy mood reflected that exact shade of that sunny yellow chopper. Here I was, a young engineer on my first trip offshore. The only emotion I can remember feeling was excitement.
The pilot flashed me a weathered grin when this young 23-year-old climbed aboard. He was a Vietnam veteran like many of the helicopter pilots flying at the time were. I was amazed as I pulled the seat belt buckles tight and pulled the ear muffs down over my ponytail. I could hear him call out his coordinates to the platform and I knew when we were going to take off and land. I felt like I might as well have been flying in Vietnam with him as I marveled at how he controlled the aircraft with both hands and feet. His only gentle warning to me was that my door had a little bit of trouble latching so I needed to make sure I shut it hard and slam down the lock for it to close. No big deal, right?
I obeyed his directions and was giddy as we started to lift off above the asphalt. As the blades chopped faster during our ascent, the little yellow helicopter started to vibrate and as soon as we were airborne wouldn’t you know my door started to jiggle open! I was mortified! More from not following this sweet pilot’s instructions and less from worrying that I’d be sucked out of the aircraft. The pilot didn’t seem to notice because he was too busy flying with his hands and feet. I grabbed the door handle and held it closed for dear life for over 30 minutes on our flight to the platform. He never said anything to me about it. My hands were sweaty and my fingers sore when I finally let go of the handle and exited the helicopter.
About a year later, I started working on Deepwater oil platforms. These platforms are stationed in thousands of feet of water over 100 miles offshore which required much larger helicopters to fly in with dual engines. I regularly flew over an hour in S-76 and the S-96 helicopter that seats up to 24 passengers – there was no risk of these doors opening inadvertently because I didn’t close them properly. The bigger concern now was in the unlikely event of the helicopter ditching in the Gulf of Mexico, could I punch out my window like I had learned in water survival training. This feat only involves waiting until the cabin completely fills with water after you crash before you can push out the window to escape. Oh, and by the way, you’d be up-side down in the process of pushing out the window, unlatching your seatbelt, and escaping into the frigid waters of the Gulf. No big deal, right?
Thankfully I never had to put into practice my water survival training. But at the time, I’ll never forget how I felt when 30 minutes into one flight the pilot said we had to turn back because there was a problem with the controls.
That was the first time I ever realized that I really no longer have control of what is going to happen to me in that helicopter. I learned that whatever is going to happen is in the hands of God and my angels. My rosary beads have never been rubbed so raw and I have probably yet to catch up with the number of Hail Mary’s I said on all those flights all those years.
Did I enjoy my time flying in helicopters for those 9 years? No. Would I go back and trade my experiences? Never.
I now have a million stories to tell and emotions I felt that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Without those helicopter rides, I couldn’t have seen my offshore platforms, that were like my children before I had children, or I wouldn’t have been able to visit the people offshore that were like my extended family. Without those helicopters, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to hover above the clouds, to feel the machine’s power as the nose slightly dips down while it accelerates leaving the feeling of my heart somewhere in my stomach. I wouldn’t remember the sound of the blades chopping through the air and still have the knack to identify a helicopter from miles away just by the way it sounds.
Without flying in helicopters, I wouldn’t have felt the gentle touch down on the deck of a platform that only seconds before looked like the size of a stamp. I wouldn’t remember the feeling of my hair whipping in the wind of the blades as I ducked and exited the chopper. And without those helicopters, I wouldn’t have seen the gorgeous views of the horizon and the night sky hundreds of miles from land.
I’ll never regret flying those helicopters because it taught me how to let go, it gave me a very physical feeling of leaving my future up to God for that hour in the air. Honestly, those were the times I felt the closest to God, the saints, and the angels… Rest in peace Kobe and Gianna Bryant, John, Keri, and Alyssa Altobelli, Sarah and Payton Chester, Christina Mauser, and Ara Zobayan.
Prayers always for the thousands of my brothers and sisters who work offshore, continuing to fly bravely, and who get the honor and privilege of hovering above the clouds…