Around the Patch: Small-town welcome

The first was in August. Making my way home to Maryland from just outside Raleigh, North Carolina, I ran into a line of rainshowers that prompted me to do a one-eighty (see “Around the Patch: Voices in Your Head,” January 2017 Flight Training). I landed at Person County Municipal Airport, glad to be on the ground.

It was 4:50 p.m. The lineman came out to see if I needed fuel. “We close at 5 o’clock,” he said.

With the approaching rain, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Person County’s airport building had a porch and a rocking chair, and I parked myself there alongside the resident airport cat. At least we were out of the damp.

The lineman locked up the building at 5 p.m., but a few minutes later the airport manager came by. He spotted me on the porch, opened the building so I could sit inside for a bit, and told me he would be on the premises for an hour or so. When he checked on me an hour later, I took him up on the offer of a courtesy car and the recommendation of a motel in nearby Wilson. The next morning, the cat and I were the first ones on Person County’s doorstep, and soon I was on my way home.

The second time occurred in November. I was bringing AOPA’s Sweepstakes 172 from Wichita, Kansas, to Frederick, Maryland. In similar circumstances, I was following a heavy line of rain back east, and got a late start out of Wichita to ensure good VFR weather along the route. I planned to stop for the night in Quincy, Illinois.

I opened the door, pulled down the sun visor, and voilà—the keys fell down onto the driver’s seat.The weather cooperated, but in the absence of an expected tailwind dusk began creeping up sooner than expected. I didn’t like the prospect of landing at an unfamiliar airport at night, and the airplane was down to half fuel tanks, so I started scouting around on ForeFlight for an alternate. The likeliest candidate was little Macon-Fowler Memorial Airport (K89) in Macon, Missouri.

It was just about 6 p.m., and Macon’s modest airport building was locked and dark. Two pilots in a Piper Archer who had landed after me were pushing their airplane into a hangar while I buttoned up the 172 for the evening. As I finished I saw them hurrying to a car in the parking lot.

“What time does the airport office open in the morning?” I yelled, hoping they’d realize that I was an out-of-towner, alone, and without transportation.

They didn’t. “Eight a.m.,” they said, hopped in their car, and drove off. I guess I should have been a little more specific.

The newly reupholstered backseat of the 172 would be fine for the night, I told myself, and if it got much colder I could put on all the clothes in my overnight bag. As I was pondering how I’d pass the three hours or so before I could fall asleep, I spotted something else in the parking lot: an elderly car.

Could it be? I opened the door, pulled down the sun visor, and voilà—the keys fell down onto the driver’s seat. Thank you, Macon-Fowler!

I returned the car just as the airport opened, so that the manager wouldn’t wonder where it was. He was glad I hadn’t spent the night camped out in the backseat of a 172, and offered me a bottle of water and a pen to take with me.

Neither of these airports was on my original flight plans, and I’m not sure I ever would have had a reason to land at them if weather and darkness hadn’t forced my hand. I’m sure you have a few stories of your own about GA’s friendly faces. It’s a great community—and all you have to do to find it is visit an airport.