I had a pretty good idea what the day was going to be like when we were No. 3 for takeoff at the nontowered airport and it wasn’t quite 10:20 a.m. on a Sunday. The sky over the airport was clear—to the east was a layer of clouds, and to the south a layer of fog.
That bright yellow thing that infrequently appears in the sky over Seattle in the winter was in the sky, and like it always does, brought out the pilots in droves.
