First in Flight.

KILL DEVIL HILLS, NC

Today, I made a bucket list pilgrimage, and I can't help but share my all-time favorite dialogue from The Simpsons, when Sideshow Bob hijacks the Wright Flyer with Bart and attempts to kill Krusty.

Bob: "Ah, for the days when aviation was a gentleman's pursuit... before any Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham!"

Bart: "Are you getting lots of bugs in your mouth, too?"

Bob: "...Yes."

One of my first books described the exploits of the aviation greats, opening with a captivating chapter on the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk. I wish I could remember the title. It was a well-worn volume with sparse black-and-white illustrations that must have been printed in the 60s, because the last person mentioned in it was Chuck Yeager. I loved that book.

Ryan and I rode to Rocky Mount in his car, which I took out to the Outer Banks, another 3 hours away. In 1903, they must have been desolate; now, the towns of Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hills are touristy, at least during the summer. The Wright Brothers National Memorial particularly is brimming with tourists of the worst description: fat, sweaty, entitled shitheads unappreciative of a feat that ushered in the age of crossing the country in five miraculous hours. But fuck 'em. Maybe I'll come back in December. 

"Kill devil", by the way, was slang for rum in the late 19th century, when shipwrecks were more common. The sand dunes nearby, the same used by the Wrights to launch their gliders, proved useful for hiding salvaged casks. Hence the name.