So much for aerial views of swampland. Nearly 3 hours and a successful ILS approach later, we're flagged into the local FBO by a very friendly guy who chocks our nosewheel, hands us the keys to the courtesy car, and suggests we head for the Waterfront Grill. Man, what a find! Started by sharing a bowl of crawfish dip, then I had a huge bowl of really bitchin'* gumbo. Nice view too.
We thank our concierge back at the FBO for the meal suggestion and start off back home. During the run-up (where we test the engine at the end of the taxiway), the left magneto check made the engine stutter and drop about 500 RPM, which isn't normal. I had seen this before, on my first solo cross-country, and knew how to fix it, but the procedure I had used before wasn't working. Ben fooled with it a few times but no joy, so back to the FBO. A phone call to Arlington and a new procedure later, problem solved and away we go.
It's dawning on me that my time in the Cessna is coming to an end, and I'm already getting a little sentimental about it. ATP's private pilot program comes with an 85-hour allowance and I'm at about 80. I'll get to fly them again briefly later in the program when I go for my commercial single certificate, but for now I'm already starting to miss it. It's made me a pretty good pilot and been a fun little bird to fly around in, especially when I get views like this on my way back from Monroe.
* Dad, this word is just fine. Use it loudly and liberally. (earlier family debate... carry on)
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