I stumbled over to a press tent looking for water and a defibrillator. There, I met individuals from Flying magazine whom, until that week, I had never met face-to-face. I was talking to Lisa DeFrees when an F-22 flew 100 feet over our heads then shot straight up 5,000 feet, as vertical as a Saturn rocket. Now, I have never been to an airshow of any kind. They aren’t really a thing in Brooklyn. Lisa was midsentence, but I stopped listening. I couldn’t help it. I was craning my neck to watch the airplane rip a hole in the atmosphere. She didn’t seem to mind. “First time to Oshkosh?” she asked with a knowing look. Um, yeah.