HEIDIOLOGY
THE F-15 DIET
BY HEIDI HARRIS

Recently, I experienced something truly incredible — something most people only dream of. I flew in an F-15. 

An “incentive ride” is something the Air Force occasionally allows members of the media to take advantage of. They consider it good public relations; we consider it one hell of a perk.

I rarely encounter problems on commercial airliners. However, I don’t particularly fly well on small planes. Or anything that spins. 

Training is offered prior to the ride, including simulator training — mostly directions that begin and end with “don’t touch anything.” There are also ejection technique instructions, which really aren’t instructions, as I wasn’t to “worry about a thing.” The pilot will activate the ejection seat, but you’ll exit the aircraft first.” Ejection seats, by the way, are designed for people weighing more than 140 pounds. Anyone under that weight, like me for example, is considered a “low-weight hazard,” or someone who would fly out much faster. 

With “training” complete and “life support” equipment fitted, the next step was a briefing with another pilot regarding the day’s flight. It may as well have been in Hungarian. The next thing I knew we were taxiing the runway, with my husband Brian and several other members of the 422 Test and Evaluation Squadron there to see me off.

I’ve been on a few death-defying roller coasters in my day, but the thrill of going from the ground to 12,000 feet in the air in a matter of seconds was indescribable. I felt fine for a few minutes. Then we started that G-force and turning thing.

My sickness would not dampen my enthusiasm. We flew Mach 1, pulled 7 Gs, and flew upside down! I can’t say enough about the skill and attitude of Major Pete Ford. He was truly incredible, yet considerate enough to honor my plaintive backseat whine, “Can we just go straight for awhile?”

During flight, Ford helped other F-15 pilots acquire certifications. When I’d crane my neck, other jets were either close to the ground or within feet of our wing.

After 90 minutes, it was time to head back to Nellis. Ford said, “We can either land straight like an airliner or we can do the cool thing.”

“What’s the cool thing?”

Apparently we would turn around sharply, do some other move and look cool. 

“Besides,” he reminded me, “Brian’s watching.”

I reasoned, “What could be the worst that could happen? Let’s do the cool thing.”

Pilots shared stories of passengers unable to even get themselves out of the aircraft without help. Others were so sick they asked to be taken back early. Not this girl! 

I got out of the aircraft and down the ladder just fine. Sure, I got sick up there, but so what? I’m no quitter. This was an adventure I didn’t want cut short. Besides, if anyone needs to lose that stubborn five pounds, I recommend the F-15 diet! LW