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To become a pilot was an obsession. Since flight instruction was expensive, some aspiring to be pilots would work around the hangers in exchange for instruction. We would sweep, clean planes, help mechanics, run errands, and listen to the conversation of pilots and airport personnel. We were in the background, the lowest echelon of airport lackeys striving for the opportunity for occasional flights or to become pilots. Not all had the perseverance to continue. We would discuss planes, engines, flight instructions, aerobatics, and the overheard conversations of pilots..
Pilots seemed to have a magnificent aura of daring and achievement. They had admirers and fans, male and female, hanging around the airport. We, the would-be pilots, not only saw the glamour in flying, but also became aware of some of the fringe benefits available for pilots. There were girls with the desire to see, meet, talk to their flying heroes, and look for an invitation for an airplane ride. Some would do anything to achieve that goal, and pilots occasionally invited a girl for a ride. We heard some of those pilots brag and compare the pleasure and rewards they were compensated with by various admiring and adulating girls. It was an added inspiration for some of the would-be pilots to become pilots and be rewarded in the same fashion.
We learned who the determined and steady fans were, and the nicknames they were covertly given. They were usually in a group, lined up near the flight line, fawning on their heroes and seeking recognition, a provocative chorus line with an assortment of enticements and compensations to offer to the magnificent men in their flying machines, their idols, the pilots. We were unnoticed, even when we came back from a flight with an instructor, but once we soloed we were granted recognition with a smile or a wave. They girls learned who became a pilot, who owned a plane, or who were able to take up passengers. To those who achieved that status, the chorus line of girls displayed their enthusiasm and eagerness to engage a pilot and participate in a mutually compensated flying experience. As we were earning our way to become pilots, we became more enthusiastic as we neared our first solo, and more enthusiastic as we neared the ultimate achievement. having a pilots license. During that final phase, there were added, in depth discussions about the temptations and opportunities offered by the chorus line that lined up to show and prove their varied talents and appreciation they had to offer to their idols. Indelibly etched in my memory are the girls that were and added inducement and incentive for some of the fledgling pilots.
The line up, or chorus line, offered a varied assortment of talents that they would be displayed for their idol, usually after a flight, in the privacy of the back rooms of some of the hangers. A few would disappear with their hero for a tryst elsewhere. Some of the more enterprising pilots would take the opportunity to take a few different girls for a flight, and be compensated and rewarded by each of their fans. Those pilots made the most of the allotted hours of weekend flying, and the line up of girls. With controlled envy I listened to the pilot’s conquests, and in later years I had to quell my regret that I did not take the advantage I had to participate.
Busty, was a well endowed, curvaceous, dyed blonde. Her barely constrained, uptilted mounds, were enticing and alluring to some pilots. Her small eyes set in a round face twinkled with mischief, while her smile displayed her vanity and vice. Bubbles, a short, pretty, gum chewing brunette, would lick her mobile lips to emphasize her specialty. Gymnast, was of German descent, a muscular but shapely, light brown hair, was known for her abundant, varied and vigorous actions. Her active and aggressive gyrations, and her insatiable demands destroyed the macho attitude of many chauvinistic pilots. Shy One, her young teen age body, and demure look of innocence was a challenge to be reconnoitered and explored. She would slowly yield and obey, then rapidly become transformed into a screaming banshee of ecstasy. Red, her beautiful face and long red hair were provocative and luring. While she seemed aflame with life and sensuousity, she was a disillusionment, her chatter was insipid and silly, and her actions coarse and clumsy. Duchess, her regal looks and attitude provoked a challenge to be conquered and invaded. With noble bearing, she would grant permission to enter her private chamber. Sad One, a freckle faced Irish girl, whose looks were an invitation for someone to solace and comfort her. When someone took her to cheer her up in the privacy of a hanger backroom, she would shriek her joy and thanks. Tiny, child sized, doll like, but street smart, knowing her miniature size appealed to many males who wanted to feel huge and powerful.
There was some turnover, but replacements magically appeared. Some of the more successful married airmen, or exploited their expertise to enter into a successful marriage. A few were well remembered after try left the chorus line. The Greek, was a dark haired Sicilian girl who protected herself against frontal assaults but offered an available rear entry. After one summer in the line up, she appeared, descending from a luxurious Isotta Frashini driven by a swarthy heavy set man. They had come for an airplane ride. While he arranged for a flight, she quickly spoke to the girls in the lineup of her marriage to a rich undertaker, and how her Sicilian in-laws displayed the blood on the bed sheet, proving she was a virgin bride. Legs, her beauty, and shapely limbs in high heels were provocative. She frequented the hangers where plane owners gathered, and married an older wealthy man. He died within a year. She took flying lessons, soon piloted her own plane. She ignored the girls in the line up.
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