I flew Tom Cruise’s training plane, I survived
SAN DIEGO – Let’s be clear on one thing: I did it not To vomit.
It’s important to clarify when the fainthearted is blasted aboard the world’s most advanced aerobatic plane, the Extra 330, one of the planes Tom Cruise used to train actors for the rigors of shooting action in “Top Gun: Maverick”.
As my pride flew out of the cockpit, I never took my eyes off the two bags of vomit beside me, nor stopped repeating my mantra: Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit. For the love of God, don’t vomit.
Confession: I can fly commercially like a pro, but avoid roller coasters that require a harness. Still, I volunteered, even semi-advocated, for this adventure, offered in conjunction with Tuesday’s “Top Gun: Maverick” digital release.
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The phrase “once in a lifetime opportunity” was all this sucker needed. I brought my own denial to avoid freaking out weeks in advance.
It didn’t help my ever-looming dread of meeting a guy who happily slipped in photos from his recent aerobatic plane crash. The vomit was everywhere. The windows, the seats, on his lovely indulgent girlfriend. He warned me: locate the bags of vomit before takeoff and do not drink tequila the day before. Do.
I learned a few hours before that I would indeed be taking control of the Extra 330 during the flight. But everything was under the direction of a qualified pilot who obviously took care of most of the flight. I made candid eye contact with a pre-flight message to the man who holds the keys to my destiny: Slow your roll, cowboy, or it’ll get ugly fast.
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I took off like a champ, with moments of pure joy against ever-expanding blue skies. Did I dream that I was singing “Danger Zone” with my pilot? (He too only knew five words.) But it happened. Was I suddenly addicted to adrenaline? No, it’s over.
We definitely twisted in the air, gracefully upside down. There was this weird reality of watching the ground pass by, then closing your eyes and waiting for it to be over. God wanted the ground to be in the opposite direction. It makes me uncomfortable to think about it.
The dogfight killed me. Flying straight into an opposing plane with me holding the stick. I have no reason to drive this flying device, especially knowing that a spasm of the arm would turn this joyful ride into tragedy. Was there even a backup plan for the arm spasms?
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I was all for losing the best of three aerial battles. Winning one was clearly an act of luck or pity. Avoiding the opposing pilot – a glamorous and beaming British journalist – meant taking maneuvers that I would never, ever do on purpose. I outright refused an aerial braking move that my pilot urged me to take. He passed me and took the stick away. This move alone will take a few therapy sessions.
Flying the plane Glen Powell trained in for ‘Top Gun: Maverick’ might have been too exciting
Taking Gs in the tight corners was where the battle to stop gastric fluid ejection reached a new level of urgency. I focused on holding off the rising vomit storm, but couldn’t stop the raging sweat glands running amok. There was even sweat in my kneecaps and my hairdresser will surely fire me for my sweaty hair debacle.
They say the flight lasted 20 minutes. It was like an hour. If I was dizzy on takeoff, I was exultant on landing.
“Maverick” director Joseph Kosinski reminded me during my flight debrief that movie stud Glen Powell often threw his cookies into flights. “He wore it with pride, he wasn’t embarrassed,” Kosinski said.
Glen Powell also flew bigger jets, is a movie star and takes his shirt off in public. When I can only cling to one victorious thought.
I didn’t vomit.
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USA Today
