Rick showed me around the hangar and then the outside exhibit area on the hangar apron. I hadn't realized how many different kinds of aircraft existed until then. I had been given an assignment by the magazine editor to write an article on the historical preservation activities of the Air Museum. It wasn't my choice actually, I was the junior reporter and all of the other reporters had been able to wheedle out it. It was automatically my assignment at that point and I had decided to make the best of the opportunity to grow professionally.
I arrived at the airport gate and followed the signs to the museum parking lot feeling a little anxious as all of the buildings seemed so oversized. I walked in to large hangar through a small door lettered for the museum and found myself in a hallway with several doors. I slowly walked looking at the name plate next to each until I found the administrative office. There wasn't anyone sitting at what appeared to be the receptionist desk and I called out to see if anyone was there. There was a shout and I walked towards the voice. I quickly found myself sitting in the Directors office taking notes as he answered my questions. After twenty minutes he walked me out into large hangar to a small office just inside the large hangar door.
He introduced me to Rick Hodges, their project manager, who appeared to be all of four or five years older than myself--quite a surprise as I expected someone much older. His office was loaded with drawings, photographs, and shelves full of reference books, and what appeared to be military technical manuals. We talked for a few minutes after the director explained what I was doing and that he should take the time to assist me as much as possible. The director turned to me with a smile and left saying he was leaving me in good hands. I couldn't help thinking he was absolutely correct, but probably not for the reasons he had in mind--Rick was as handsome as they came.
We talked for a while, then he suggested it might be more interesting if we looked at several of the museum's restored aircraft. Rick showed me the newly restored B-24 Liberator named 'Betsie' by doing a walk around, pointing out the aircraft's basic features, then took me inside the aircraft and explained the function of the different compartments and instruments. I was really impressed with his knowledge of the aircraft and how it functioned--there was not a single question I asked that he hadn't answered with confidence.
His explanations also brought home to me the reality of how crude a World War Two four-engine bomber actually was; there were no amenities as I was accustomed to on a commercial airliner. The thin aluminum skin on steel ribs were covered with green batting in a few places and some armor plate in others, was Spartan, basically a hollow shell with guns, a bomb bay, navigation equipment, and a cockpit. Not an inviting place to spend time in my opinion, particularly in subzero temperatures with an oxygen mask on.
By the end of the tour, if nothing else, I had gained an appreciation for what the men who fought in bombers had endured during the war. Rick had done an excellent job of relating a few stories about the raids this bomber had been involved in--drawing me in with his vivid descriptions. I asked if he knew where the name on the nose came from and he replied it was named after the pilot's sister.
He looked at me with those wonderful eyes and an enticing smile that showed beautiful white teeth. I found I was quite happy to spend time with him after no more than a few minutes inside the cramped quarters of the plane. Of course, trailing behind him gave me some wonderful views of his really nice looking ass and solid frame. As we prepared to climb down from the cockpit entry-way he looked at me with a wide grin. "That's it. I'm sure more than you ever really wanted to know about a B-24 Liberator."
We climbed down out of the B-24 and started to walk toward the static exhibit area inside one of the massive hangars that held part of the museum's collection. The exhibit hall and theater held photographs, pieces of equipment, and miniature aircraft models to educate the visitor using a multimedia approach that I thought was very well done.
As we walked I looked over at a smaller two-engine aircraft sitting on the far side of the huge hangar; like the B-24 it had a twin tail configuration. I asked what it was.
"A B-25 Mitchell bomber." Was his ready reply. I noticed the faded name painted on the side of the nose--'Poon Tang.' It seemed a strange name and I wrote it down in my notebook. He then explained that was his current restoration project and that it would be nearing completion in another month with new paint and installation of restored cockpit seats and some flight instruments.
I wrote the story the next day, accompanied with a few photographs I had taken, and turned it in to our stodgy editor. A day later he told me it was well done. I beamed--it was hard to get a compliment out of the man.
I decided to return to the museum on the coming weekend on my own time as there were exhibits I hadn't really had time to explore fully. I found myself fascinated with the museum's focus and the history of the aircraft it displayed. I had taken the time to research the name of the B-25 and found myself with mixed emotions- '
a woman or women regarded solely in terms of potential sexual gratification
'.
I reminded myself that these aircraft were operated during the war in entirely male inhabited areas where women were not present. So the artwork and names didn't receive the kind of scrutiny they would garnered had they been stateside where the general public would be present, especially women.
I was looking at the exhibit dealing with women who worked in the aircraft factories during the war, this when younger men were mostly on active duty and not available for manufacturing work. I was reading the text when I heard a male voice behind me.
"Well, I didn't expect to see you here again so soon."
I turned to see Rick standing a few feet away with a broad smile. He was dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. His tanned face and limbs suggesting a life spent outside whenever he could get there. I smiled a hello--though inside I was more than smiling as I felt myself warm. I quickly passed my eyes over him hoping it wasn't evident I was checking him out.
"So, is there anything I can do for you? You know, pull a plane out of a hangar for a photograph, buy you lunch, take you to dinner?"
I turned with a smile trying not to show my delight at being hit on. "Not so fast flyboy." I laughed. Hoping to disguise the warm tingle I was feeling and an intense desire to touch him.
"Okay. I'm not a pilot, only an aviation historian. I guess I shouldn't have hit on you so hard, but you have to understand I'm not used to having a pretty, single woman show up very often."
I felt myself flush a little. Damn he was handsome and confident. Not that I hadn't noticed before. I didn't want to admit I was thrilled with his pitch as my mind worked hard to come up with something to say that seemed relevant, and not overtly suggestive.
"Do you know what Poon Tang means? You know the name on the B-25."
"You remembered it was a B-25!" He exclaimed obviously surprised.
