First off, let's get something straight. This is not something I wanted to do.

I don't like rollercoasters, have no desire to sky dive, and for a while didn't even enjoy driving over the Skyway Bridge to Chicago.

So when I was invited to fly inside an aerobatic bi-plane - one of three that will perform this weekend at the Warsaw Municipal Airport - my stomach sank.

The sinking feeling was prompted by memories of when I was 7 and my father and I flew in a four-seater and the pilot decided to show off by doing some kind of flip over the skies of Wisconsin.

I puked.

But 27 years later, this was different. It was part of work. I was invited by the Marsh Star Aerobatic Team to experience first-hand what it's like to be in a plane that does loops, flips and dives and then convey those thoughts to our readers.

After unsuccessfully asking three other staffers to take the assignment, I felt locked in.

So I headed to the airport, camera in hand, listening to a Kathy Mattea cassette with the song, "Life As We Knew It."

At the airport, I conveyed my fears. The pilots laughed and informed me that about 10 percent of their guests end up reaching for a barf bag. Relax, they said. If things get queasy, just let them know and they cut out the funny stuff.

Real assuring.

So I stepped into the front seat of the cockpit and felt a sense of claustrophobia as they locked about five straps across my legs, shoulders and chest. I had passed the point of turning back and thought about two sayings:

Let go and let God.

Roll with it.

Within a few minutes, our plane, piloted by Roger Vecchio, was heading down the runway alongside a second plane carrying another guest reporter, Stacey.

I soon realized my pilot was gonna treat me like a puppy dog. While I took photos, the other plane rocked and rolled. They did a series of flips and at the same time, moved from our right side, to underneath, to the left and then circled above and back to our right side. They did this two or three times as I grew comfortable with the friendly skies.

As the two planes flew side by side, Stacey's plane did a series of splits - a fancy term for quickly veering off a parallel pattern with the other plane.

We just kept going straight.

"This isn't so bad after all," I thought.

I was feeling more optimistic and conveyed my optimism to Vecchio by way of radio intercom.

Then it was our turn. Vecchio wanted to do a flip, so we gained some altitude and then descended quickly. I braced all parts of my body needlessly as we began to climb again and closed my eyes and soon felt the sensation of being turned upside-down.

I cracked an eyelid, glanced up (actually down) and saw a checkered pattern of landscape before feeling the plane turn upward. I grabbed the bare portion of the instrument panel and pushed my feet against the floor like a little kid on a roller coaster.

The G-forces (just short of three) were putting a squeeze on my intestines and I concentrated on not letting myself get sick. But the problem wasn't with my guts.

As we began straightening out, I felt an ache in my left calf muscle. Great. Two thousand feet in the air and I've got a charley horse. With my stomach somewhat under control, I flexed my leg, but the pain lingered.

As I watched, Stacey and her pilot did a hammerhead - they headed straight up until the plane lost velocity and turned back down, plummeting toward earth before turning away.

"Poor Stacey," I thought as we cruised parallel to the flatlands of Indiana.

But we weren't done. Vecchio took us on a four-point turn in which the plane rotates 90 degrees; stops; rotates another 90 degrees so the plane is upside down; stops; and then another 90-degree turn before returning to normalcy.

I watched as the view turned from sky to earth to sky once again and felt a little less wimpy.

The most abrupt turn came as we made a quick left and approached the runway for a landing. The unexpected jolt surprised me, but I knew it would be over within a minute or two.

The aerobatic team helped me unfasten the belts and get out of the aircraft. I limped my squeamish sweat-soaked body to the airport terminal, where I felt like bragging about not having puked.

With my feet planted firmly on the ground, yes, I can say it was fun. [[In-content Ad]]