Words and Photography: Nicholas Pascarella

The global pandemic has effectively shut down the majority of the flying everyone was expecting this year, but operations continue nonetheless, and everyone's local airport likely has at least some action. I live in New York City, and luckily that 'local airport' idea covers a wide range of aviation, while also being within walking distance of my apartment. In addition to that, when we couldn't go to airshows, airshows did their best to come to us.

We were treated to multiple flyovers from Jet Blue, the Blue Angels and Thunderbirds together, and the Geico Skytypers, honoring front-line workers and remembering those that have died due to Covid-19. Those flyovers were during some of the hardest, heaviest times this summer in the City; they were deeply appreciated, and with friends and family on the front lines all over the country, it was warming to feel the support. On July 4th, we had a veritable air armada cruise down the Hudson river, led by the USAF Thunderbirds once more, with a four-ship of F-22s and a four-ship of F35Bs escorting a B-2 and a B-1 respectively, and a four-ship of Strike Eagles from SJ to round things off. Did I mention there was a B-52 in tow? 

Doing my best to stay away from any public transit, miles on top of miles were put on my worn out soccer shoes, romping over busted fencing, through high grass, on top of broken glass and assorted garbage to find nice angles for the action. At times, my route led me through midtown Manhattan, and I found myself walking very much alone through the center of a city that had been nauseatingly crawling with tourists just months before. The lights and billboards implored their messages to nobody in particular. Traffic was scant. The sounds of birds chirping filled the air. 

Aside from the flyovers, I wasn't lucky enough to have any pointy jets tearing things up nearby, nor did I have any warbirds zooming around, but I still enjoyed the challenges presented. And the opportunities availed themselves much more slowly than the former scenarios, making success slightly easier.  

With that said, an A319 doing 150mph 100 feet above my head is still a rush. And I'll always enjoy seeing a Cessna Caravan get up on the step, break one float free, then pop into the air, trailing the East River in streams behind. Space everywhere in the NYC metro area is limited, so often the action came right to me; the East River vapor doesn't smell nearly as good as jet fuel, trust me on that. 

Aside from the full lockdown, during which the skies around NYC became eerily quiet, there is always something flying around. Every altitude has its own treasures, and although at times it may seem like the hardest thing to do, keep looking up. This is both concrete and metaphorical. Keep looking up. 

Stay strong, friends.