New Addiction

In college, I joined a local ambulance corps. I'd like to say that I did it because I wanted to help my fellow man, but actually, I wanted to drive 60 MPH down the wrong way of a one way street, with lights and sirens. The other aspects (helping my fellow man, learning a bit of medicine and anatomy, and learning how to ward off sleep depravation with large quantities of coffee and doughnuts) did come later. But driving fast was the hook that drew me in, as it is for many ambulance workers. I probably helped save a couple of lives, and a couple of limbs, but mostly I helped transport drunks and dopeheads to emergency detox.

I did get to drive 60 MPH down the wrong way of a one way street. In the snow, yet. Like any hook, however, it's not the same as the fantasy. There was some internal part of me whooping it up, but mostly I was worried that the idiot in the back who tried to punch his hand through chicken-wire reinforced glass might lose some fingers if we didn't get some doc to sew up his lacerated blood vessels. The blood vessels in question were also leaking all over the back of the ambulance in a slow but unstoppable flood of sticky hot fluid, and a part of me knew I'd have to help mop up and sterlize the rig after we booted the guy into the ED.

The Y-chromosome can be a peculiar thing. The X-chromosome is pretty much the same chromosome with some extra genes attached, making it X-shaped. Men have one of these, but women have two. Those extra genes tend to override certain fallibilities of the Y-chromosome (not always, but they seem to). Sometime, somewhere, genomic scientists will find a tiny little bundle of nucleic acid at the bottom of the X-chromosome and label it the 'Anti-Top-Gun-Equilibrium' (ATGE) gene. The ATGE gene is a counter-balance to the Y-chromosome's inability to recognize fantasy from reality when it comes to fast moving machinery like fighter planes and souped-up jet-fueled retro-finned crime fighting vehicles.

I took flying lessons once -- I'll probably finish up sometime when I have the time and money to continue. I was realistic about flying lessons. I did not and do not expect to learn dogfighting in Sopwith Camels. I know that power-dives, buzzing the treetops, and yanking the yoke back will most likely violate a few FAA regulations (not to mention will most likely rip the wings off of a small Cessna). So, I bought Microsoft Flight Simulator. I tried a power-dive over Greenland in a Lear jet, followed by a 7 gee pullup. The wings ripped off the jet. Flight simulators, these days, are too accurate. You almost need to be a pilot to fly one, and definately need flight lessons to land one. The 'physics' (as it's called) of flight simulators is getting better and better -- that is, more and more realistic.

I downloaded a game today from gamecenter.com called Crimson Skies. After beating the demo, I went out and bought the full version of the game. This game is basically a combat flight simulator, set in the 1930's, between world wars. I'm a fan of 20th century retro, from 80s New Wave to 20s swing, from Art Deco/Art Nouveau to Warhol. This game has it, in a campy, corny cross between Buck Rogers and Terry and the Pirates. But that's not what hooked me. The designers tweaked the physics of the game, so it's possible to fly like the comic books. In the first level of the first demo, I flew my plane 200 MPH through a tunnel and out the other side, then under a bridge, pulled back in what should have been a 12 gee climb, rolled over at the top, and dove down to shoot a fuel truck on the bridge (which exploded prettily). This game rocks. It requires enough skill to keep from flying into things (from other planes to ground-based objects), it has enough physics to simulate stalls and prevent impossible 90-degree instant turns, but it has just enough wiggle room to let a non-ace pull off kick-ass flyboy stunts and live to tell about it.

My Y-chromosome will be busy for a while.