"That's a negative, Ghostrider"

One of my favorite things about reporting is that every day is different. One day I'm interviewing stranded truckers on the interstate in the middle of an ice storm, the next I'm being chased by a herd of cows while trying to get video of search crews near Colorado City. I was particularly excited when a group of people I'd been working with on the search for Hailey Dunn invited me to take part in their aerial search. They planned to fly over Scurry County and scour the area from above while ground searchers drove to areas that caught their attention. Cool, right?

I grabbed my aviators, packed up my work car, and hit the road to the Snyder airport bright and early. When I got there, I met the searcher and pilot I was heading up with. I climbed up into the plane and put on my special headset that blocked out the engine noise but allowed me to communicate with the others through a microphone. (I felt very official). After I made myself comfortable in the backseat, the pilot motioned to a large red coffee canister "in case we get sick." I brushed it off and continued messing with my camera to make sure I didn't miss a thing.

After a few minutes, we were off! I kept my camera glued to the window as we dipped and dove through the air above Scurry County. My eyes were peeled as we flew over lakes, fields, stock tanks, everything. I was getting such great video, I felt like a kid in a candy store!

About 15 minutes later, it was getting hard to look through the viewfinder. The ride was getting bumpier, and my stomach was not happy about it. I started feeling so bad I had to put my camera away and look down for a bit. After a few minutes I took it out and shot some more video, but had to put it down again. This went on a few more times until my stomach was churning so badly I started eyeing the red barf bucket. "No....I can't be the girl who pukes in the plane," I thought. I tried to keep it together for a few more seconds...but there was no fighting it. I finally lost it and surrendered to the big red coffee can.

I looked up, praying neither of my fellow passengers saw me. No luck. When the pilot asked if I was okay, I brushed it off as best I could and pushed the hated coffee can to the side. For the next few minutes, I looked down and prayed it would be over soon. I sat in silence for the rest of the ride, trying to think about anything but the wind battering the plane and infuriating my already-upset stomach.

After what seemed like forever, we touched down back at the Snyder airport. I wanted to kiss the ground as I got out of the plane with a bruised ego and bucket full of barf. Thankfully, the others laughed it off and assured me it was no big deal. I regained my composure after a few minutes and headed to the terminal, prepared to tackle the rest of the day's adventures.

Next time, I'm sticking with the ground crew.