“Isn’t it dangerous?” she whined.
“We’re all right,” I shouted. “I’ve flown stuff like this before. I can handle it.”
Pretty soon she tapped me on the shoulder again. “Where are we?” she inquired.
“I can’t tell you the exact spot,” I shouted, “but we are still on the right railroad and will be coming into the airport in a few minutes.”
We passed over a town section just then, and the railroad branched three ways under us. I made a quick jump at my map to check which of the three I should follow. The wife saw me jump and must have seen that I looked worried. She tapped me on the shoulder again.
“Oh, are you sure we are going the right way?” she whimpered.
I started to turn around to explain to her what I was doing and why, realized my flying required all my attention right then, cast an appealing glance at her husband, clamped my jaws tight, and started studying landmarks. We were in close to the airport, and I didn’t want to miss it.
I heard the husband shout one of the funniest mixtures of supplication and command I have ever heard.
“Now listen, honey,” he shouted at her. “You keep your damn mouth shut, sweetheart.”