Up in the Air
A photographer from a big national magazine was sent out west to cover the wildfires in Yellowstone. The editors wanted those dramatic shots of firefighters doing their brave work, but when the photographer got there, the smoke was so heavy he knew he couldn’t get much from the ground.
So he called the magazine and asked for a plane. They agreed, made arrangements, and told him to head to a small local airport.
When he arrived, sure enough, a little plane was waiting with the engine running. Without missing a beat, he hopped in, threw his bag down, and shouted, “Let’s go!”
The pilot taxied to the runway, took off, and they were soon in the air. The photographer leaned forward and said, “Alright, make a couple of low passes over the fire so I can get my pictures.”
The pilot blinked. “Pictures? Why?”
“I’m a photographer,” the man said. “That’s what photographers do—we take pictures.”
There was a long pause. Finally the pilot turned, wide-eyed, and asked, “Wait… you’re not my flight instructor?!”
