Hypnotizing Maria

pressed the microphone button.
    “Maybe so, ma’am,” said Jamie Forbes, “but maybe not. You can fly the airplane without him.”
    “No I never learned! Juans over against the door, he’s not moving!”
    “We’d better get him on the ground,” he said, choosing “we” because of what he figured she’d say next.
    “I can't fly an airplane!”
    “OK,” he said, “then you and I’ll get him down together.”
    It happens once in practically never, a passenger at the controls when a pilot’s incapacitated. Lucky for them all, it was a pretty day for flying.
    “You know how the controls work, ma’am?” he asked. “You move the steering wheel, keep the wings level?”
    “Yes.” That made it easy.
    “Just keep the wings level, for now.” He asked her when and where they had taken off and where they were headed, he turned due east and sure enough, a minute later he could see a Cessna 182 at ten o’clock low, just forward of the T-34’s left wing.
    “Give us just a bit of a right turn,” he said. “We’ve got you in sight.”
    If the airplane didn’t turn, he didn’t have her in sight at all, but he gambled and won. The wings tilted.
    He dropped down inside her turn and came alongside, sliding into formation fifty feet away.
    “If you look over to your right...” he said.
    She looked and he waved to her.
    “Everything’s going to be OK now,” he said. “Let’s get you over to the airport and land.”
    ‘ I don't know how to fly!” She said that and the wings banked more steeply, toward him.
    He banked with her, two airplanes turning together. “That’ll be no problem, ma’am,” he said, “I’m an instructor.”
    “Thank God,” she said, her airplane falling into a steeper bank.
    “You might turn that wheel to the left,” he said. “Not a whole lot, just firm and gentle to the left. That’ll bring you back to level flight.”
    She looked ahead, turned the wheel, and the Cessna’s wings rolled level.
    “You’ve got it,” he said. “You sure you’ve never flown before?”
    Her voice came a little calmer. “I’ve watched Juan fly.”
    “Well, you watched real good.” He found she knew where the throttle was, the rudder pedals, got her to turn her airplane to the left till she was headed back toward the airport at Cheyenne.
    “What’s your name, ma’am?”
    “I’m scared,” she said. “I can't do this!”
    “Don’t you be kidding me. You’ve been flying this airplane five minutes already and you’re doing a great job. Just relax, take it easy, pretend you’re an airline captain.”
    “Pretend I’m what?” She heard, couldn’t believe what this person was saying.
    “Forget everything but you’re the airline captain, you’re the first woman captain the company’s ever hired and you’ve been flying for years and years. You’re completely comfortable in the airplane, happy as can be.
    Landing a little Cessna on a beautiful day like this? Piece of cake!”
    This man is out of his mind, she thought, but he’s an instructor. “Piece of cake,” she said.
    “Right you are. What’s your favorite cake?”
    She looked at him out the right window of the Cessna, a stricken uncomprehending smile, some of her fear melting in I’m-going-to-die and he’s asking me about cake? Of all rescuers I get a crazy-man?
    “Carrot?” she said.
    He smiled back. Good. She knows I’m nuts, now she’s got to be the sane one and that means staying calm. “Piece of carrot cake.”
    “My name’s Maria.” As though knowing that might put him in his right mind.
    Cheyenne airport appeared, a streak on the horizon. Fifteen miles out, seven minutes flying. He chose Cheyenne for its long runways and ambulance, instead of landing at the small airports closer.
    “Why don’t you try pushing that throttle in, Maria? You’ll hear the engine; it’ll get louder, as you know, and the airplane will start to climb, just gently. Push it all the way in, now, and we’ll practice a little climb, here.”
    He wanted to remind her of the climb, of course, in case she got too low on her landing approach. He wanted her to know she was safe in the sky and pushing the throttle is the way to get back up when she wants to.
    “You’re doin’ fine, Captain,” he said. “You’re a natural pilot.”
    Then he had her pull the throttle back, ease the nose just below the horizon, and they descended together down to traffic pattern altitude.
    The lady alongside looked back at him from her