Jill Smolinski - The Next Thing on My List

Pride forced me to make at least a cursory attempt at makeup. My eyes were slits, so I tried as best I could with mascara and eye shadow. Later, when the puffiness receded, I’ d get to see if my aim was on the mark or if I wound up resembling Bette Davis in All About Eve. Whatever. If Troy was hoping for foxy ride-along companions, he needed to switch to the afternoon drive-time shift.

The Van Nuys Airport was small and catered to commuter planes and helicopters. Deedee and I made it there a few minutes early and easily found Troy’ s hangar. He was there already, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, drinking coffee and looking over some papers. Outside the hangar we passed a bright yellow helicopter with ‘ K-JAM-Getting L.A. Jammin’ ‘ emblazoned on its side.

‘ Morning, ladies!’ Troy called when we approached.

‘ Morning implies sunlight,’ I replied grouchily. ‘ This is not morning.’

‘ So,’ he said, clapping his hands together, ‘ let me show you around. How about I start with the coffeepot?’

He showed us the operation there. His circumstance was unusual, he explained, because most traffic reporters worked for a traffic reporting service-he was an independent who worked directly for the radio station. K-JAM was the top-rated morning show. That’ s why Lizbeth had been drooling to get on air.

‘ You ever meet Fat Boy?’ Deedee asked Troy, referring to K-JAM’ s morning DJ, who-at least based on the billboards I’ d seen around town-had earned his nickname legitimately. He was about four hundred pounds of pure wacky Latino, and in the billboards he wore thick glasses, a hat, and nothing else but a Speedo.

‘ Sure. I’ ll be on air with him this morning, but we won’ t see him. He’ s at the radio station.’

‘ Fat Boy’ s so funny,’ Deedee said. ‘ I like it when he calls people pretending to be a old lady.’

‘ You listen to K-JAM?’ he asked her.

‘ Yeah, while I get ready for school.’

‘ So what’ s your opinion of my traffic reports?’ he asked her, leading us toward the helicopter.

She gave it some thought, then said, ‘ You could be funnier. Crack jokes. You do a good job talking about the traffic, I guess. I can’ t be sure since I don’ t drive yet.’ She grinned at him. ‘ For all I know, you make it up-there’ s not any traffic at all.’

‘ So you’ re on to me already.’

A stocky man sporting a baseball cap and a beard came over holding a doughnut bag. Troy introduced him as his co-pilot, Dickie Ruiz. ‘ Dickie and I need to go over a few things. You might want to hit the ladies’ room,’ Troy suggested. ‘ You won’ t have another chance for a couple of hours.’ Deedee and I must have looked panicked, because he said, ‘ I can make an emergency stop if you need it.’

‘ I gotta pee every ten seconds these days,’ Deedee whispered as we made our way to the bathroom.

‘ How are you feeling?’ I asked. ‘ You going to be up for this?’

‘ Oh yeah. This is the coolest thing I’ ve ever done.’

We met back up at the helicopter a few minutes later. Troy said, ‘ Good news, June. We’ re down a sponsor, so I’ ll have a chance to throw you a couple questions in the seven o’ clock hour. Anything you want me to focus on?’

While I was trying to decide, Deedee said, ‘ Ask her what’ s her favorite song.’

‘ Thanks,’ I said, ‘ but it needs to be more about ridesharing. Maybe you could ask about the new rail line to downtown?’

‘ Boooooring,’ Deedee said.

Troy said he’ d see what he could do to keep things lively and then opened a door to the helicopter. ‘ Ready?’ he asked. He and Dickie helped us climb in back, where there was just enough room for Deedee and me to sit comfortably.

‘ Where are the parachutes?’ I asked as I buckled in. ‘ Does my tray table serve as a flotation device?’ I was babbling because my belly was starting to do nervous flips. I’ d never been in a helicopter, and even though I’ m not afraid of flying, I wasn’ t sure what to expect. Plus I’ d be talking live on the radio, so it was a double whammy of nerves. I felt I had a lot riding on this, knowing Lizbeth’ s position was open.

Troy fiddled with some controls, and Dickie handed Deedee and me headsets-the huge kind that fit like earmuffs. Each one had a thin microphone that pulled forward. ‘ Once he starts those chopper blades, it’ s going to get loud in here. You’ ll need these to hear what’ s happening on the radio station. Use the mikes to talk to us here in the chopper-it’ s easier than shouting. June, we’ ve powered the mike on yours so you can talk on air, too.’ He smiled. ‘ Do I need to remind you of the words you can’ t say on the radio?’

‘ No, that’ s okay.’

‘ I wanna hear them!’ Deedee said.

‘ Fuck’ s a no-no,’ Dickie replied. ‘ You can’ t say fuck.’

‘ What about shit?’ Deedee asked. ‘ Because I swear that sometimes they bleep it out, but there are other times-’

‘ Shit’ s not allowed,’ Troy cut in. ‘ But you’ re right, it sneaks through once in a while. And June, feel free to talk all you want about how incredibly good-looking I am. There’ s no ban on words like stud& sexy& godlike& ‘

‘ Egomaniac,’ Dickie added, passing his bag of doughnuts back to us. ‘ It kills him that he’ s stuck in radio and the ladies don’ t get to see that pretty face of his.’

We dove into the doughnuts until Troy gave us a one-minute warning; then we got ourselves ready. When he kicked the helicopter into gear, the sound of whirling blades was deafening, even to us inside with the doors closed. ‘ I always thought that was fake!’ I shouted. ‘ That you sat in a studio and played a tape!’

Dickie answered by pointing to his ears and mouthing, ‘ Headphones.’

‘ Oh, right.’ Deedee and I scrambled to pull on our headphones, and I adjusted my microphone.

Troy asked, ‘ Can you hear me?’

Deedee nodded. I gave a thumbs-up.

‘ Here we go,’ he said, and the helicopter lifted. It hovered for a moment and then flew up and forward. My insides did a dip, and Deedee gave an excited whoop.

‘ Everybody okay back there?’ Troy asked.

Deedee nodded again. I gave another thumbs-up.

I could hear Troy chuckle in my headphones. ‘ You guys can talk,’ he said. ‘ I’ ll give you plenty of warning when we switch over to on air. And Deedee, you don’ t need to worry. Only June’ s mike goes live.’

Did he have to say the word live? Arrrgh, as I’ d have said in my eye patch days. The doughnut danced in my stomach.

There’ s nothing to be scared about, I told myself. It wasn’ t as if Troy would ask me tough, probing questions. I could handle this, especially after living through the gas giveaway debacle. My brain seemed to be buying the pep talk. My digestive system remained doubtful.

I forced myself to concentrate on the view while I listened to the radio station, which was playing that Black Eyed Peas song that, now that I’ d heard it, would be stuck in my head all day. The night sky was taking on a grayer hue, and it looked as if the sun were considering making an appearance. (And I didn’ t for a second forget this was a twofer for the list: both #10, Ride in a helicopter, and #18, Watch a sunrise.)

Our flight had started in the Valley, and within minutes we were making our way over the hill. I’ d flown in planes over Los Angeles plenty of times, but this was close enough that I could make out the sights. Dodger Stadium& the Getty Museum& the mansions along Mullholland Drive. Even the 405 Freeway seemed lovely, winding as it did up the hill, dotted with the headlights of early morning commuters.

Troy turned to us. ‘ What do you think?’