THE REDHEAD WITH DISTURBINGLY ROUND GOGGLES

A ROMANCE starring Tony Jannus, the Benoist XIV Flying Boat and the Redhead with Disturbingly Round Goggles.

Chapter 1—No longer a lazy day

FOR pilot Tony Jannus, it seemed just another lazy day on the St. Pete Pier. He remembered all the hoopla earlier that year when his Benoist XIV flying boat inaugurated the world’s first passenger air service: January 1, 1914, St. Petersburg/Tampa, across the bay, $5 each way—plus a surcharge if the passenger weighed more than 200 lbs.

The fiver was not an inconsiderable sum in those days; it’s worth $116.85 today. St. Pete/Tampa was only a 20-minute flight, compared with 2 1/2 hours by steamship, even longer by train, a car trip on unpaved roads barely an option.

Mayor A.C. Pheil, left, and pilot Tony Jannus before the inaugural St. Petersburg-Tampa flight, January 1, 1914. Why do you suppose Tony knew to wear a rain slick?

The first passenger had been the Mayor of St. Pete, The Honorable A.C. Pheil, who spent $400 at auction for this privilege. Things had been busy for a while, and the St. Petersburg-Tampa Airboat Line looked like it could be a success.

But then business dropped off within a few months.

Until Tony idly admired the statuesque redhead coming onto the pier. He sat up and straightened his bowtie when she strode his way.

“Ah want to get away from heah?,” she said, “and soon?”

Tony liked the way everything she said ended in questions.

“Sure,” he said. “I can fly you over to Tampa for $5.” He eyed her up and down again. She was statuesque, but not that statuesque, so no surcharge.

“And you can even pick the altitude,” he said. This was usually the clincher. They all liked to be pilots.

“Then it’s agreed?,” she said, “but Ah’m a bit apprehensive?” She paused as she toyed nervously with a pair of disturbingly round goggles sticking out of her coat pocket. “Because,” the redhead continued, “of the Bermuda Triangle.”

This time, it wasn’t a question. Tony sensed a brief darkening of mood.

“Lots of ships disappeah theah?,” mysteriously she was back in question mode, “and no one knows why?”

“Not to worry,” Tony said, “I haven’t had a problem yet and, besides, we’re nowhere near Bermuda.”

He pocketed the redhead’s $5 gold piece and helped her into the Benoist open cockpit. “We won’t be able to talk much,” he said, as the 6-cylinder Roberts barked into life immediately behind them.

The redhead adjusted her disturbingly round goggles as Tony taxied the Benoist away from the pier and pressed down on the throttle.

Tony, the redhead with the disturbingly round goggles and the Benoist lift off Tampa Bay. Image from my Microsoft Flight Simulator rendering.

Chapter 2—Too much sparkle?

TONY leveled off at an altitude of 50 ft. above the sparkling bay, the city of Tampa 22 miles ahead. The Benoist was alive with every thump of its 75-hp Roberts. Like most of his passengers in the St. Petersburg-Tampa Airboat Line, the redhead with the disturbingly round goggles seemed compelled to carry on a conversation despite the engine noise and 55-knot cruising speed.

“Aren’t we getting too neah the wateh?,” she said.

“What?” he yelled.

“Ah said ‘getting neah the wateh?’ ”

“You want to get nearer the water?”

“What?”

“Okay, watch this.”

“Well, Ah neveh?!”

The bay sparkled in the Florida sun. Then the sparkle took on a new dimension, one that Tony had never seen before. Each point of light expanded, contracted, became more intense in the glare. The sky wasn’t blue any more. It became brighter and brighter, more and more an undifferentiated intensity. The Benoist no longer responded to Tony’s controls. He forced to focus his thoughts.

“Ah feahed this would happen?,” said the redhead with the disturbingly round goggles, “it’s the Bermuda Trian—!?!”

To be continued tomorrow. ds

© Dennis Simanaitis, SimanaitisSays.com, 2015