In this episode of So There I Was, Fig and RePete are joined by Kemo and they sit down with two air traffic controllers to talk about what pilots never see — and rarely understand — on the other side of the mic. From go-arounds that mean “you’re not trying hard enough,” to near-miss moments that make an entire tower pucker, this conversation pulls back the curtain on how airspace actually gets managed.

Along the way, we dig into controller training timelines that rival military pipelines, staffing shortages that stretch patience and margins, and what it’s like working a shutdown while still moving metal safely. Then things go sideways — canceled takeoffs for iguanas on the runway, Brasher warnings explained, and stories that absolutely did not make it into the AIM.

It’s equal parts aviation reality check, dark humor, and behind-the-scenes storytelling — and once you hear it, you’ll never hear ATC the same way again.

New Year’s Eve, no guest, and somehow the cockpit still turns into a full-blown sitcom. Fig & RePete kick off with a takeoff that goes sideways at V1 when “rotate” gets called… and apparently translated into “stare blankly into the void.” From there, it’s the perfect hangout episode: Top Gun continuity crimes (medals disappear, sunglasses teleport), a hard pivot into the Air India 787 post-rotation dual-engine power-loss mystery (and why one explanation feels disturbingly too plausible), and a buffet of leadership horror stories that’ll make you grateful for every normal human you’ve ever flown with.

Plus: quiet professionals, jumpseat survival tactics, and one legendary “turn the checklist 90 degrees” power move that ends exactly how it should. Funny, sharp, and just unhinged enough to feel like the crew room after midnight.

This week’s So There I Was episode is a Hangout — that happens when you put pilots, controllers, and a few proud troublemakers in the same virtual room and hit “record.” We swap the kind of stories that never fit in a checklist: a Harrier night recovery that ended six inches from a very bad day, a Learjet that missed an airliner by 100 feet in IMC, and a “UFO” sighting that turned out to be Starlink doing accidental aerobatics in the sun’s glare.

Then Heater drops in and casually explains how Top Gun almost became a dark vampire movie (until someone showed the director what blue sky actually looks like). Add laser-strike rage, EMAS explained for non-pilots, and the annual reminder that the Marines were the in-flight entertainment.

Happy New Year—check six, and don’t touch the igniter wiring.

This is what happens when you put a Navy Tomcat legend behind a camera and let him tell the story his way. Heater takes us from KC-135 tanker ops with that infamous hard hose, to the kind of “how’d-you-do-that?” plug where he’s steady on the basket and still managing to grab photos mid-refuel. Then we pivot into Top Gun lore from someone who was actually there: the “Star Wars on Earth” in more ways than one; the image that helped ignite the franchise; two days of filming “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” and the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mystery of a possible Darth Vader lurking in the background of the bar scene. Along the way, Heater breaks down what aviation photography really takes: planning, timing, composition, and the occasional blind shot that somehow becomes iconic. And years later, he’s still uncovering gems in old slide boxes that prove the best pictures sometimes outlive the moment by decades. Long-form, hilarious, and packed with aviation history and insider detail.

This week’s sponsor: Antigravity A1 Drone. Learn more at sothereiwas.us/antigravity

Episode 190 is what happens when you hand the mic to Captain CJ “Heater” Healy and then just try to keep up. Heater takes us from a childhood obsession with WWII airplanes to roller-coaster “G-training,” to flying—then teaching—at the highest levels of naval aviation. Along the way, we hit the $10 “Mexican Justice of the Peace” wedding that turned into a 53-year marriage, the fighter-pilot path that almost didn’t happen, and the mind-bending world of MiGs at Area 51 — yes, the ones that “smelled like a hydraulic leak with an electrical fire.” — Heater also reveals how a single photograph helped spark Top Gun, plus what it was like being on set and shooting real missile events that almost ended VERY badly with a very non-digital camera… including mid-flight film surgery. This one’s a top-five all-timer—no doubt.

In this week’s episode of So There I Was, Ike joins us with stories so wild they make the Quigley, Beirut, and Cherry Point weather sound like minor inconveniences. We open with Ike casually mentioning that he once found himself upside-down over the North Atlantic at night — because of course he did. From growing up under the Nashville approach path to being choked in boot camp for laughing, to nearly “smoking” the British ambassador in Beirut when his door gunner got jumpy, Ike’s journey from farm kid to single-seat attack pilot is a rollercoaster with no safety bar.

We hit everything: CH-46 shenanigans, A-4 aileron rolls where drop tanks were definitely still attached, Harrier culture, maintenance-shop misery, and why flying vertical is basically a religion. Add in toilet installations on mountain peaks, British PT instructors who try to kill you, and Marines being Marines… and you’ve got an episode that is equal parts chaos, nostalgia, and aviation gold.

B-2 stealth bomber test pilot Sparky joins So There I Was to explain why the world’s sneakiest bomber still can’t go direct to Liberal, Kansas without a paperwork migraine. From “switches up, auto missile, eat a sandwich” bomb runs to 24-hour missions fueled by go-pills, honey buckets, and a hacked-together cot, he walks us through life in a jet built for nuclear armageddon but terrible at simple IFR. Then we follow him to test pilot school at Edwards, where he flies everything from F-16s to flying boats, helps beat up the “Franken-tanker” KC-46, and explains how big airliners survive stalls, rejected takeoffs, and absurd crosswinds. Sparky also tells the sobering story of losing a classmate in a T-38 crash—and the piano-burning tradition that followed—before closing with the truly unbelievable tale of how Wayne Newton kissing his wife on stage earned him his call sign.