One thing I learned the first time I strapped a helicopter onto my back: if you're an adrenaline junkie, and fairly fearless, you'll enjoy the work. Shoot a full-on, power-off autorotation to a postage stamp in a small helicopter and you'll know what I'm talking about. There's nothing quite like it. When you get good at it, you can do it in the dark of night with the landing light turned off, something career chopper pilots should demonstrate every year - with confidence - to stay qualified.
The life of a high-profile helicopter pilot can be exciting and rewarding, but when things go horribly wrong and your flying machine cuts down three people on camera, there's no making it go away. It never goes away. And if you let it get to you, it will drive you insane.
I've been pounding the keys for years to document my otherwise wonderful voyage on this huge, wobbly old planet -forty years of defying gravity. Retelling the Twilight Zone movie accident is a literary punch in the gut for me, something that took several days sequestered in an isolated hotel room to grind out. I keep promising myself I won't go back, but I know it will come to me, regardless.