As I’m driving a plane down the highway, airport control radio crackles in, “Unit 332, you left  the tarmac. Are you airborne?”  

“No,” I reply.  

It’s a beautiful day for a plane drive. The sun is shining, none of the passengers are screaming  yet, and there’s no traffic. Most people fly planes because there’s less traffic in the sky. I drive  one because it only takes several hours longer and you don’t need a license.  

A drive-thru! Yet another thing they don’t have in the sky. I signal to change lanes, and open up  the emergency chute instead. I keep forgetting planes aren’t designed for roads. Now, I have to  change lanes and avoid all the passengers that just fell out. Luckily I’m a good driver and planes  have small, easily avoidable, wheels.  

Sadly, planes have wings and this drive-thru is not wing-accessible. Row F is going to be so  angry—I promised them a burger for winning license plate bingo. So I hand out some peanuts  and pretzels and tell ‘em they’re plane burgers.  

I intercept a trucker signal.  “Avoid Route 9. Some idiot’s sledding in a plane”  

I’m a little offended because I’m on Route 9, and the only one in a plane. Maybe my wheels fell  off, but I’m clearly driving.  

I like to think of plane wheels as training wheels. Without them, we’re really driving. This  can-do attitude is what keeps me driving planes. It also helps that if anyone cuts me off I can run  them over and win.  

We’re headed towards a body of water. Which is good because I was planning on a water landing  anyway. Plus, I stopped being able to steer when the wheels fell off. Fortunately, there’s enough  time for the passengers to put on their life jackets and swimsuits. Plus the emergency chute looks  kind of like a waterslide if you turn your head and shut your eyes.  

Personally, I think “Hero” is a strong word. Sure, I got everyone out of the plane and into the  hospital alive, but it’s what I do every Tuesday.