The $100 ... er ... $150 Hamburger
(continued) Since we still had flying to do, Jeff and I had to forego the champagne. But even without the bubbly, the hamburger was pretty tasty. Matthew came out and joined us partway through the meal, and I ended up learning some interesting -- and disturbing -- facts about airport cafes. First was that there's actually a website called 100dollarhamburger.com that gives reviews of various airport cafes. Who knew?
But Matthew also said his clientele has changed dramatically in the past 10-12 months. Economists don't typically look at airport cafes as the mining canaries of the national economy, but perhaps they should. Why? Because about 12 months ago, the number of pilots flying in to Matthew's started dropping precipitously. Then, about 10 months ago, the real estate folk disappeared from his clientele, as well. He didn't have to read the Wall Street Journal to know the economy was taking more than just a little blip hit.
In point of fact, airport cafés are hurting all across the country. Matthew reported that in the first 11 months of 2007, 17 new airport restaurants opened nationwide. In that same period of time, 143 closed their doors. "I think it's just the gas prices," Matthew said. "That $100 hamburger is now $150 or $200."
I can't argue him there. I still remember being incensed, just eight years ago, when the FBO at the Palm Springs, California, airport charged me the outrageous sum of $3 a gallon for fuel. When I filled up after lunch at Paso Robles this time, the price was $5.60. My old five-gallons-an-hour Cessna 120 is looking pretty nostalgically wonderful, these days.
On the other hand, aviation was never really cheap. As Stu Horne of Aviat Aircraft pointed out to me a couple of years ago, there was a reason all those barnstormers flew tired old Army-surplus Jenny biplanes. It was all most pilots could afford, even though the country was in the throes of the Roaring '20s. And most barnstormers were hard-pressed to keep even those rattletraps in the air -- hence the need to hop rides.
There have always been a lucky few who could buy the beautiful new airplanes crafted by the designers at Beech, Travel Air, Stearman, Stinson and Cessna. But the vast majority of pilots have always had to scrape by and salvage their time in the air in used, borrowed, rented or homebuilt machines. The famous Lockheed test pilot Tony LeVier once told me that in the cash-strapped 1930s, he finally figured out how to give flying lessons by the minute in order to eke out a living as a flight instructor. I can't remember the exact pricing, but the idea was that he'd give a student one circuit around the patch while hammering home as many skill sets as he could cram into that compact window of time.
So maybe we, too, will end up getting astoundingly creative in terms of how we pay for our flying, in the days to come. "Necessity is ... " and all that. And come to think of it, maybe the romantic world of the barnstormers has more relevance today than we might think. After all, the barnstormers didn't hop rides to expose more people to the world of flying. They gave people rides because it was the only way they could afford the gas. So maybe we should revive that barnstormer tradition. Instead of flying solo to all those $100 hamburger joints, we could put up flyers at work offering to take other people. Or plane-pool with other pilots at our home airports.
If everyone shared the expenses, it would more than mitigate the increase in gas costs. And ... who knows? We could end up making new friends and winning new converts to aviation in the bargain. After all, if the point of the $100 hamburger is to have an excuse to go flying, explore someplace new and interesting, and have some good company, conversation and laughter along the way ... well, then, the more, the merrier.
But perhaps even more importantly, it would help keep all those $100 hamburger destinations alive and well. Because if we don't find a way to keep patronizing them, they will continue to shut their doors. And while the Earth would certainly keep turning if every last airport cafe in America went out of business, something precious would disappear from the world.
For airport cafés are to pilots what Paris bistros are to artists and philosophers. They are the places we go to find our community; to enjoy conversation, laughter, and a comforting sense of understanding with others who share our aspirations, frustrations, adventures and dreams. And whether those cafes serve deliciously greasy hamburgers or a delectable noisette of lamb -- they all share one particular feature that makes them stand out from every other restaurant in America. Because for all the amazing food and service available at epicurean legends like The French Laundry, The Four Seasons or the Gramercy Tavern ... you know, when you think about it ... not a single one of them of them allows you to taxi to your table.
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