I remember my first real taste of aviation—it was at the Singapore Airshow. Dad brought the whole family out, a rare family outing under the open sky.
We hid in the shadow of a parked C-130, trying to escape Singapore’s blazing sun, eyes skyward as jets danced above us. Some planes were easy to spot, gracefully flying in formation. Others caught us off guard. We’d hear the sharp whiz of something slicing through the air, followed by a roar that hit us a second too late, rumbling through our chests like thunder. I didn’t know it then, but they were performing aerobatics—a carefully choreographed sequence of rolls, loops, and dives designed to push both man and machine to the limits.
That was the moment something clicked. The speed, the noise, the precision—it wasn’t just a show. It was art, power, and discipline all at once. And that spark stayed with me long after the skies fell silent.
Fast forward to when I was 17. I signed up with Singapore Youth Flying Club (SYFC). In typical teenage angst, I wasn’t very keen on losing my weekends to go to school again, but once I had taken that first actual flight, it was all worth it.
On my first ever flight, I learned how to steer the plane along the yellow lines on the ground—a process called taxiing—how to call Tower for clearances, and most thrilling of all, how to push the throttle forward and lift off the runway for the very first time. I remember thinking to myself, “I’m Tom Cruise in Top Gun”
The next few flights were a blur of maneuvers, procedures but one thing I remembered was how it made me feel. Liberating. There is no better experience than being in control of a metal bird in the skies.
Setbacks though, are common in life and my SYFC journey came to an end 9 flight hours after it started. I had not performed up to standard and my instructor had no choice but to “chop” me. But it left me wanting more.
Continued in Part 2
Cleared To Flight Levels 
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