LITMIR.BIZ

      ISBN 978-5-0053-0566-4

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      Birthday. A sad holiday

      There is a common phrase: “Born in a shirt.” Or “Born a second time.” Choosing a birthday present is a separate topic. The gift should be large and unnecessary. If there is nothing to donate, donate money. People love money – that’s a fact. Many do not like that very day, why?! Perhaps they inattentively read the Bible, which says that a person has two most important dates in his life – this is his birthday and the day of death, and life is a line on a tombstone. Therefore, during life, you must definitely celebrate your birthday. Others will celebrate the day of your death.

      I turned fifty-five. Anniversary. A beautiful combination of numbers. There is still health, but no senile marasmus.The “barrel” of alcohol allocated for life has been drunk long ago. As the senior comrade aptly remarked: “I would also like to ride a goat, but it’s too late.” What to give a person for fifty-five? Medal? You immediately remembered the medals with numbers, which begin exactly with fifty fifty and end with ninety. I have never seen the anniversary medal ninety or five hundred. The most demanded are fifty-five. But we digress from the gift. We also have creative people in our office. They approached the gift in a cardinally expressive way, chipped in and gave me… the long-awaited (as they usually write on the Internet) flight tofighter. Of course, I always did not mind flying, especially not on anything, but on a fighter. And I do it every day. I downloaded a simulator to my computer. I got a joystick. And he flew. He landed on an aircraft carrier. So, turn off the autopilot, go visually to the deck of the aircraft carrier. We release the landing gear, flaps, brake hook, maintain the glide path, maintain the speed. The deck approaches, the tension grows and then bang, my little daughter presses the ejection button on the keyboard. The fighter falls into the water, and I parachute into the ocean. We start all over again. Where is the entry point to the glide path?!?And then the very day has come, which is “long-awaited”. Going through pre-flight check-up, putting on my flight suit. And there were two options. The first is to put on a jumpsuit, and the second is to wear pants with a jacket. Unknowingly, I chose pants with a jacket, which I later regretted. The clothes seemed comfortable and loose. Fashionable pants with suspenders. I decided to ignore them (suspenders). Then they put on overload pants, asked me to zip up and put all the items out of my pockets. Otherwise, the contents of these very pockets may fall out during alternating overloads and something will jam. They gave me a helmet with a comforter and an oxygen mask. And now the idiot’s dream has come true. I take a seat in the second cockpit of the fighter. I look at the devices with interest. They strap me to the chair and set my GoPro camera.

      Naturally, I focus on the camera. In the cockpit of a fighter, you can only look like a macho. I remembered videos on YouTube, where people lose consciousness during overloads on a fighter jet. Then the pilot turns the plane upside down and the person wakes up. The blood hits the head, and he begins to examine, or maybe not blood, but some other liquid. The main thing is that the head is at the bottom at this time. I didn’t want to lose consciousness on camera. But when the GoPro was installed, all of a sudden all the service personnel disappeared somewhere and for some time I was left completely alone. Working “on the camera – he adjusted his helmet, tried to fasten it. He pulled in an oxygen mask. I tried to lower the protective glass. It seemed to me that the camera is directed slightly to the side. Loosening the straps he straightened her. With loosened straps, it’s more comfortable and freer.

      Then everything happened very quickly. The pilot appeared and asked: “Is everything all right? How are we going to fly? With figures or just like that, pancake? “And took a seat in the front cockpit. Everything buzzed. Pre-flight checks started.The canopy lowered, the engines hummed, and we taxied onto the runway.

      One edge went into the ocean. We were to take off in that direction.

      The weather is a million in a million. Awesome from the impressions, I sat happy in an unbuttoned helmet with an open “visor”, anti-overload pants and an oxygen mask not connected to the aircraft system, with loosened seat belts and waited for takeoff. How did it happen? As always. First one, then the other prevented.

      Takeoff was cleared. We take off. On the run, I pressed heavily into the chair. After taking off the plane from the runway, the pilot sent it “vertically” up. With a large pitch angle and +4G overload. It’s not for you to fly on a computer. Everything is real here. The body sank even more into the chair. After a sharp climb, the pilot “breaks” the flight trajectory with the handle away from himself and a negative overload appears.Suddenly, I separate from the chair and the body tries to fly away, beyond my desire. Hands are looking for something to catch on. And now I grab the chair. There comes across some kind of handle and I squeeze it, hoping to hold on.

      The counting from minutes and seconds moves only to seconds. Pulling the ejection handle (and that was it), I set in motion the entire mechanism of this complex but fast process. I am slammed into a chair by the harness. Tightens abdomen and shoulders. Legs are also pulled to the chair by an unknown force. Limiters of hand spread fall. And in the next instant, the cockpit lantern flies off and me, along with the chair, someone invisible shoots out of the plane. The whole process was recorded by the camera in great detail. A kick in the ass, this is just a slight comparison of what happened. The helmet falls off the head leaving a black eye. A powerful stream of air hits the face. In theory, it should be sea and fresh, but then I did not notice it. I don’t remember how the parachute opened. The attention was slightly distracted by some annoying incident. The chair came off and somehow picked up my unbuttoned anti-overload pants went down into the abyss.

      Together with other pants that were issued to me for the flight. Taking a coward along the way. Eh, why did I give up the overalls. And the suspenders? A smart man designed flight trousers, and a stupid man did not know their true purpose. Having come to my senses a little, I realized that it was too early to relax. The straps loosened, and I felt that I could fall… Fall into the ocean, stripped to the waist from the parachute harness. What if there is a shark? There must be a whistle to scare her away. Where is he? There is something dangling on the halyard below me. He’s probably there. I was about to splash down. There should be a boat, but I was thinking about the shark and the whistle. I never remembered about the fresh sea air. The painting was that painted in oil… or watercolors… or gouache. In general, according to your taste, whoever likes it more. Endless air turning into the blue sea. Sun. Lonely parachutist. Beauty.

      And at this time on earth. That is, at sea. Another hero of the day celebrated his birthday. His friends were also very creative people and gave him a yacht trip. Everything went well at first.Champagne, shrimps, stories from the seasoned. What is a modern liner? They did not taste the taste of salt water, but real sailors are used to rolling. And they can defend the watch and the appetite does not suffer. As for the taste of the seawater, even define it only by taste. With closed eyes. The yacht was real. Under sail. Experienced sailors told me in great secret that almost everyone can endure pitching equally badly.Can you imagine them, a cruiser!? Before getting into a storm, everything is recorded.

      First, liquid dishes are not prepared. The second is there, but no one is there anyway. The storm can last for a week. And in the carriage there are two or three people who walk, work, eat, drink. One of them has the surname Konyukhov, the other has Chkalov. Joke. The rest toil. Vomit. The state is such that it seems nothing could be worse. But then the pitching ends, and the team begins to come to life. Therefore, you can only boast on the shore and only in front of those who have not seen you spawning overboard.Meanwhile, our hero of the day and his companions began to feel the first symptoms of seasickness and began to take turns, and then all together, throw the contents of their stomachs into the sea. I can imagine how the fish were happy. The whole team was on deck with dreams of setting foot on solid ground. They thought badly. Were in an altered state of consciousness. Suddenly, an orange parachute dome appeared over the yacht, under which the parachutist’s bare ass, that is mine, shone. The people decided that they will now have a cover. And this cover can come from heaven. Let’s just say that most often the cover comes

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