Two weeks after my divorce from Mindy was final I started on my trip from Minneapolis to the American West. I needed to get away. In my mind I had gone through all of the scenarios and emotions of revenge, reconciliation, separation, unsolicited advice, depression, anger, hate, regret...you name it. Now it was time to clear my head.
Unlike most 45 year olds who have been married 23 years and have three adult or near-adult children, I at least had the advantage of no money problems. I had worked hard building a company that made solar cells by an innovative process that I co-invented, and when I first found out about my wife's cheating I quickly accepted the most desirable of the several open offers to sell that I had received over the last two years. The offer that I had accepted was the best for my employees and the second best for me, the monetary difference between it and the best offer inconsequential. You can only spend so much money in your lifetime.
Particularly rewarding to me was the unique circumstances that allowed me to avoid sharing any of the proceeds from the sale with my ex-wife, although she got half of everything else we owned, enough to leave her comfortable even if not filthy rich like me. Before I could get a loan to start my solar company seventeen years ago the underwriter had insisted that my wife sign away all of her rights since the underwriter could not take the chance of a change in management. For that assignment Mindy had been paid $200,000 that she put into an account that I signed away all of my rights to. She was very happy with the money at the time because she had no faith that my business would succeed; she's not so happy now (ha, ha).
My 21 and 19 year old sons, one a college graduate the other a sophomore, had accepted my decision when the facts became known. My 17 year old brilliant (now a freshman at Stanford with her tuition prepaid) but highly emotional daughter was pissed that I wouldn't reconcile. She told me that my wife, her Mom, had strayed because "she has a bad self-image and no longer felt attractive so she was just trying to have some positive reinforcement; and now she's over it and sorry," like that was a magic wand that would make everything go away. It didn't help me one iota.
There may have been something to the low self-esteem argument, however, because my ex Mindy felt necessary to compare herself to me and to several other women in our social circle. In our 23 years of marriage my ex had put on about 20 pounds and was sure that her tits were sagging and that her ass was flabby. Meanwhile I weighed only three pounds more than I did when I played football at a Division III school at 225 pounds, so that comparison bugged her somewhat. However, I do believe that it was comparing herself to two of our mutual female friends that was the most disturbing.
Kathy and Nicole, two of our female friends who were a year or two older than Mindy is, looked like Lululemon models (i. e. ultra fit). Both were intelligent and personable too. Kathy had a happy marriage however Nicole had caught her stupid husband cheating two years ago and divorced his ass so fast he thought that a train hit him.
While I never said anything negative about Mindy's looks - in fact I almost daily told her that she was beautiful and never unfavorably compared her to any other women - she seemed resentful that I went out of my way to be nice to Nicole when she was going through her divorce and helped her out. Despite the disastrous way Nicole's marriage had ended because of her husband's affair apparently Mindy thought that having her own affair was the solution to her malaise.
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After a few stops at various national parks and monuments, typically only staying over two or three nights, I pulled my Tesla Model X into Hualopai Lodge in Peach Springs, Arizona, adjacent to the Grand Canyon. After two fun days there I decided to take a helicopter ride into and around the Canyon. I met the pilot and four other guests from Haulopai at the copter.
The pilot Rex was about 50 and very experienced; ex-military. Two of the guests were a small Vietnamese couple. The other two passengers were women who spoke with a British accent. Often to the embarrassment of women passengers all customers have to be weighed to balance the aircraft. This is done out of sight of the other passengers and is simply used by the pilot to properly balance the load.
The first of the presumably British women looked like she was about five feet eight inches tall and 125 pounds - not that I'm a very good judge of women's weight - and maybe 40 years old. The second British woman was about five feet eleven and likely 150 pounds, and very muscular, and I estimated 30-35 years old.
The pilot put the Vietnamese couple and the second British woman on one side, and me and the first British woman on the other, and since the helicopter normally accommodates six passengers and since my side was a little lighter than the other the pilot allowed - in fact even encouraged - me to bring along my backpack (which he also weighed) rather than check it at the office.
The first British woman introduced herself as Brie Taylor, the second as Margaret Evans, and the Vietnamese couple as Chau (woman) and Due Nguyen. I, of course, introduced myself as Brent Rossin, because that's my name.
Most of the flight we had headphones on listening to the pilot's narration of what we were seeing but before takeoff and at points where we didn't have headphones on everyone seemed very friendly.
There were two odd things about the British women, however, which I only noticed after about half an hour into the flight. Brie's face looked funny; it wasn't because she wasn't decent looking, it was because there was just something off about it. I was never a thespian but as a layman my guess would be some sort of stage makeup and/or prosthetics. As far as Margaret was concerned she seemed to have an uncomfortable top on and unless I knew better a bulge near her left shoulder that looked like a small handgun - not unusual per se in Arizona, but strange for a British tourist.
The scenery was breathtaking so I didn't dwell on the idiosyncrasies of my British companions. We all were enthralled by the scenery and having a great time until we heard some unpleasant "ca-chung, ca-chung" sounds. If I didn't know better I'd have thought that the engine blew out.
Well apparently I didn't know better.
Rex got on the intercom shortly after the last "ca-chung." In a very calm voice he had first frightening and then reassuring words.
"You probably heard those sounds and they're not good. My instruments and observation are both telling me that the engine has died," he started out. "That's not as bad as it sounds, however. That does not in any way doom us."
Rex then sounded like a flight instructor when he continued. He assured us that helicopters have a built-in mechanical control called the collective pitch lever that allows them to descend slowly and land relatively softly if the engine dies. He said that by manipulating the collective pitch lever he could change the pitch of the chopper's blades to find an ideal angle that keeps the blades spinning, generating enough lift to touch down softly, a maneuver he called "autorotation."
Obviously we had to take his word for it. It didn't mean that we weren't scared. In fact I held Brie's hand and Chau held Margaret and Due's hands.
When I looked out the window I didn't see a good place to land at the bottom of the Canyon. Apparently Rex was thinking the same thing because I heard soft curse words coming into my headphones. We did seem to be gliding, or whatever a helicopter does, fairly slowly but when we hit my and Brie's side of the copter hit after, and much softer, than the other side.
While Brie and I were shaken, we were not seriously hurt. However, it looked like Margaret and Due had hit their heads and were moaning and if not delirious close to it. Chau was really shaken but apparently her head hit something soft, and she appeared to be in better shape than Margaret and Due.
Even after hitting the copter skidded a while, but then came to rest still upright, but at an angle, my and Brie's side above the other side.
