Take Off: Hilary O’Reilly

Another morning, another adventure. I roll off of my mattress to take a deep breath and begin re-packing. It was Monday, November 7th; I had no idea what time it was, and the only reason I was aware of the date, was because I had another flight to catch. I took a minute to collect my thoughts, and recall a sleepy goodbye from a few hours earlier as a dear friend of mine left for work; and the other goodbye, which consisted of loudly bellowing BANANA by an Australian with a poor Canadian accent. Taking a deep breath, I walked down the stairs, ready to take in my next experience.

I was in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, it was my fifth Australian city in 19 days, and by the evening, I would be lying my head in a new bed, in Taree, New South Wales.

Australia was my first international journey; my plane ticket was bought months prior on an impulse for adventure. I savor the thrill of the unknown, seeing new sights, hearing new words. Traveling is an opportunity for me to push my boundaries, and as a restless soul, I’m constantly searching for a new frontier.

There were three of us in the kitchen, myself, and two companions kindly seeing me off at Melbourne International Airport.

Daniel and I made coffee, recounting the stories from the night before, but breakfast was eaten in silence; we were all quite hungry, but I was also despondent. As I pulled apart my toast, I realized that while I was ready to seize my next adventure, I was not ready to say goodbye to the others – I wanted more.

My bag was carried out to the car, and a double and triple check for my passport and plane ticket were completed; I took one last glance at my Melbourne home, and shut the door. I anxiously sat in the passenger seat of the car, as we headed towards one of the two airports of the day. I took in the scenery and the company as my nerves amplified. We took a right turn into the Oxford Aviation Academy car park; with my pulse racing, we walked inside the front doors.

This little adventure was planned by Daniel. He signed us in, and while Andrew sat patiently, I began pacing, clenching and unclenching my fingers, forgetting to breathe. We walked outside, Daniel giving a tour. I matched his steps; I did not want to miss one moment. My heart racing, we entered the hanger, also known as a plane garage, to discover three small, two seater planes. I was begging to be told what the planes were constructed of, as we pushed the plane out of the hanger. Daniel, refusing to answer my question, opened the cockpit, laughing, as I requested not to be killed during this flight. I was thrilled. I was terrified. I was standing on the edge.

I sat in the front seat, Daniel in the seat behind. As a flight instructor, Daniel’s adventure was aerobatic maneuvers over Beaumaris Bay. Hovering over the ocean, along the coast of a beautiful city took my breath away, and so did the first maneuver.  I was hundreds of feet in the air, plummeting downwards to the ocean, then pulling up the nose to see nothing but sky. It was apparent that I was on an amazing adventure! The next maneuver had us flying upside down. I used all my bodily strength to hold myself down: my feet were braced against the floor, hands clutched around the metal frame above my head, back arched against the seat. We rolled the aircraft to an upright position, and back again. Once again, upside down, my muscles began to defy gravity; I hear Daniel through my headset, “it’s okay, just let go.” I uncurled my fingers, softened my muscles. My weight shifted forwards onto my harness, neck hanging loose, with no other physical contact to the aircraft. I was floating. As the plane pulled out of formation, my body simply slid back into my seated position.

I pushed my comfort zone by simply agreeing to aerobatic maneuvers. I cherish my instincts and my personal ability to push myself; however, I was always left wanting more. Pushing boundaries is important to me. Letting my guard down, and trusting those around me, is a barrier that I had yet to push. Taking my hands off that metal frame prompted me to let go and trust my dear friend, and he was able to push me off that edge. Trusting in others is a raw frontier for me, but as I adventure forward from here, so does my trust.

Back on the runway I climbed out the aircraft with a perpetual smile on my face. I was thrilled. I was terrified. I had stood on the edge, I was pushed, and I flew. Literally and figuratively.