Wing Wife

(Click Title for Synopsis)

The truth? I never flew in a military high performance aircraft. Not even once. But I married a Marine fighter pilot. In the testosterone-heavy atmosphere of jet jockeys, I lived with Peter Pan and his boys, who refused to grow up. I breathed in pixie dust, and soared high above reality, believing we’d all live forever in Never Neverland.

Chapter One

Wedding the Corps

“Don’t worry, Marcia.” Rheta, my matron of honor, burst into the cramped back room of the chapel where I fiddled with my bouquet. “I think I’ve convinced them not to moon the congregation.”

‘Them.’ The Navy and Marine Corps pilots who flew out from Andy’s Training Command Squadron in Texas.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked. Thirty-one naked rear-ends displayed as I turned to walk down the aisle to the strains of “Here Comes The Bride” sounded like fun to me. I wanted some fun. A wedding involved too many details and little time with my guy.

Lost minutes later, I proceeded past the risers on my left filled with aviators and turned toward the altar of the Mt. Baldy Chapel in the San Gabriel Mountains of California. My bouquet could have been a stand-in for those feathered gourds Tahitian dancers shake. The baby’s breath threatened to break loose from its fragile stems and shower the audience with bridal nerves confetti.

The guests gasped.

I thought they laughed at my trembling self as I walked down the aisle, trying not to faint or trip while I focused on reaching my tall, handsome prince-on-a-pedestal of a husband-to-be.

But, as I found out later, they laughed at First Lieutenant ‘Pipperburn’ making my bridal processional special by turning around, dropping his trousers, and showing his very fine ass to the assembled guests.

Rheta had the best view of the lieutenant’s ham and eggs. She was supposed to look toward me, smiling encouragement as I progressed down the aisle, not toward Pipperburn bent-over, in the back risers at the back of the chapel.

Every flier I’ve ever met wanted to look good at the field--the airfield of life. Pilots and RIOs--Radar Intercept Officers--were allowed, even encouraged, to do wild and crazy things in the air and on the ground, but if they didn’t show to advantage, they’d get a ration of shit and lose the respect of the fliers who heard the story.

Rheta Lyn told me he had looked good. In fact, she said, he definitely put his best face forward.

Too bad I didn’t see Pipperburn’s display. The double scotch-on-the-rocks my mother had given me two hours earlier was wearing off, and I could have used a distraction.

As a child, I had lived with the unhappily married--my parents and their friends. Escaping into books when the family mayhem and my father’s anger threatened, I believed in the promise of fairytales. If I were good and true and honest and brave, a prince--also good and true and honest and brave--would come along, love me, and we would live happily ever after. Legal and religious union never occurred to me. I didn’t believe in marriage, but my big brother, Don, didn’t believe in his little sister living in sin. Andy recognized his best friend’s protective instincts. Caught between a rock and a heart place, I chose to marry.

Don had introduced us--although not on purpose--I was his kid sister, after all.

My childhood had been spent under the thumbs of my two older brothers, who ignored my existence, tried to eliminate me from their existence, or warned their friends against any involvement with their dorky dweeb of a sister. In spite of that attitude and maybe because of it, I wanted nothing more in the world than to do what my brothers did, listen to them talk, join their club.

Don invited me to go waterskiing with some other buddies of his. One of six siblings raised in the expectation of going to college, I’d just graduated, the first in my family--and as it turned out--the only one. Don appreciated those who did what he had not or could not. I--at least temporarily--had entered my eldest brother’s rolls as one of the good guys.

I said yes, of course, to time with the guys and a perfect escape from worrying about what to do with my Bachelor’s Degree in Philosophy.

Andy was one of the buddies waterskiing that day in June. He loved dogs; I loved dogs. He loved kids; I had babysat a lot of kids so I guessed I liked kids too. He was handsome and strong, tall and tan and--nice. I knew my big brother respected him. What followed, including a worn out bikini determined to slip off strategic parts of my body, led rapidly to an engagement and our wedding in January. Andy was easy to love.

And so my life in the fraternity of pilots began. I wanted fun, yet my husband stood straight in a United States Marine’s uniform. A girl, I wanted to join the boys’ club. I believed in fairytales and not in weddings.

Pixie dust sprinkled on me until my feet lifted from the floor.