Page 44 of The Love Haters

The kind of pissed off that’ssopissed off it seems weirdly calm.

Eye-of-the-stormpissed off.

Even though Hutch was clearly endeavoring to be professional, and even though he was polite the whole time, I could just tell. It was clear from the poker face, the one-word responses, the nostril flares, and the way he walked—no,strode—two feet in front of me at all times.

This, honestly, was the nonverbal Hutch I’d been led to expect.

But I had a job to do, so I just did it: asked questions, and took notes, and snapped photos. But this guy definitely didn’t want me there.

It’s a weird feeling: beingunwelcome. I tried to compensate with enthusiasm, panic-talking with ridiculous commentary, like “Those helicopters are so orange!”

I guess the US Coast Guard didn’t suffer from chromophobia.

Needless to say, my goofy cheeriness didn’t help.

Hutch kept up a robotic pace, showing me the remaining offices, the presentation room, the break room, the preflight meeting room, and the hangar—the site of my infamous “so orange” comment, yes, but also several other idiotic statements, like, “Look how shiny they are!” and “The floor is so clean!” and “Those rotors areenormous!”

Yeah. Pretty bad.

But can I say something about all those dumb things I said? They weretrue.

The helicopters really were shiny—and so much bigger than when you see them motoring across the sky in the distance. The hangar really was spotlessly clean. And the rotors really were enormous—almost prehistoric in scale. I felt an actual, honest-to-god feeling of awe as I beheld them in that hangar.

It was unexpectedly moving.

It felt like a shrine to all the best parts of humanity.

Which was something I would’ve said to Hutch, if he’d been receptive at all. I might even have thanked him.

Instead, I was trapped. Anxiety-babbling about décor.

Finally, for the grand finale, he took me outside, pausing to don a pair of aviators, where a helicopter was about to take flight for a training mission. The crew was already on board, and the blades were spinning up top—and there is no possible way to explain how loud it was. For the first time, I understood the termchoppers. Those blades really do chop the air—and you can feel the vibrations from one side of your body to the other.

“This chopper is really loud!” I called to Hutch once I’d caught up, continuing my streak of inane commentary.

Hutch turned back. “They’re only calledchoppersin the movies.”

“You guys don’t call themchoppers?”

“We call thembirds.”

Birds. Huh. “Why hasn’t that bird taken off yet?” I called next, trying it out.

He looked at me long enough for me to decide that he was at least 10 percent cooler and more intimidating with those aviators on.

Then he answered, “Procedures and checks.”

I watched it, thinking I’d see it lift up into the sky any minute. But I guess those procedures and checks were pretty thorough. Time lumbered along, and many minutes later, still standing there, side by side, surrounded by the vibrating air, I squinted toward Hutch in the sunlight and heard myself call, “Did you know that the wordhelicoptercomes from Greek?”

Hutch looked over.

“People assume it breaks down intoheliandcopter,” I went on, “but that’s not right. It’s actuallyhelicoandpter.”

No response.

Come on!This was the most interesting thing I’d learned all weekend!

“Helico,” I pushed on, still at top volume, “means ‘to spin,’ andptermeans ‘to fly.’ You know:pteras in ‘pterodactyl.’ And of coursedactylmeans ‘fingers.’ Sopterodactylmeans ‘flies with fingers.’ Which is true, if you look at their wings. They’re just fingers with skin stretched between.”

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