The 10 Steps to “Pittsburgh Landing”
Landing in Pittsburgh is special.
I’ve flown to Pittsburgh from lots of places. It’s because I’m flying home from somewhere I’ve been temporarily. But I’ve learned a lot from my flightmates en route to the city of bridges. The city of champions. Yinzer central. That old steel town. That obnoxious city with the Steelers, the Pens, Pitt, and some baseball team.
And every time I come home, I see the city through their eyes.
There’s a series of things that happens when one lands in Pittsburgh.
- When the captain comes on and indicates we’ve begun our descent, we’ve either just started with the turbulence or are about to hit it pretty hard. I’m not a physicist, nor am I a pilot. But Pittsburgh air is bumpy, and it’s almost always cloudy. The plane starts bouncing and making “clunk-a-clunk” noises. It jolts back and forth. People gasp. The wings shimmy. The engines go “vrooom,” and more disturbing — they go silent. The window is no help. It’s just white cotton candy whizzing by. The thingies on the wings go “vrrrrp” and move up and down. The yinzers around me grip the arm rests, unconvinced (as I once was) that this is normal.
- Eventually, the plane breaks through the clouds, the air gets smoother, and we all see the UPMC building welcoming us. There’s an audible sigh of relief throughout the cabin. Knuckles release from armrests. Rosary beads get put back into purses. And all of a sudden, even though nobody has spoken to anyone else thus far, conversations start bubbling up around the cabin.
“You coming home or visiting?”
“Visiting — my grandma lives here and I haven’t been here in ten years. Figured it was time.”
“Oh I live here. I was visiting my college friend in Omaha.”
“I’m coming to see the Pitt game.”
“You been to Primanti’s?” “No, but we’re going tomorrow!”
It’s usually at this point that I chime in. “Get the roast beef or the corned beef. Not the steak. Trust me.” - Camaraderie evolves until the wheels hit the ground, and everyone starts saying their goodbyes.
“Tell Coach J that Kendra, class of ’98 says hi!”
“I hope your Grandma’s doing better.”
“Thanks for the tip — corned beef it is!” - Everyone helps everyone else get their unwieldy luggage out of the overhead bins.
- I head toward baggage claim/ground transportation. I smile when I see the first set of escalators and hop on. As I descend to the next landing, the airport’s two statues come into view. Pittsburgh, in all its Pittsburghiness, decided to honor two true heroes of our fair city. I can only imagine that the statues selected were the result of a board meeting with a lot of strong personalities. Tears were probably shed. Jobs were probably lost. In the debate of whom should be honored in statue form in the airport, two emerged victorious. They were:
George Washington — first president of the United States who also… did a bunch of stuff and led some battles and was responsible for a lot of noble war things in Pittsburgh that are historically significant and changed the course of history (details fuzzy for me)
and
Franco Harris — A running back for the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 1970s who caught the notorious “Immaculate Reception” in the 1972 playoff game against the Oakland Raiders. The airport statue shows Franco in this pivotal moment in his career and in Steeler history.
6. Having spent my introspective moments with George and Franco, I board the people mover. The voice tells us to step away from the doors and hold on, and then someone — Manfred Honeck (conductor of the Pittsburgh Symphony), Craig Wolfley (sideline reporter for the Steelers), Christina Cassotis (CEO of the airport) or some other delightfully familiar Pittsburgh voice welcomes people to our city and tells folks what’s going on in the near future. I love this. It never gets old.
7. I make my way to the long-term parking lot and drive toward town. I pass the straight up garish Covestro sign that for some reason I can’t hate.
8. I enter the Fort Pitt Tunnel in suburban wasteland. I sigh. I smile. Because I know what happens next.
9. What happens next is I emerge from the tunnel into a new world. I don’t want to get in trouble for copyright problems, so to get an idea, Google image search “Pittsburgh skyline photos.” And buy a print from Dave DiCello. Never met the guy. No clue who he is. But his photos say it all. You can also read “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” and get a good description. If I’m extra lucky, the Pirates will be playing while I pass PNC Park, and I can see the jumbotron and feel like I’m part of it all.
10. I follow the signs for 376 East, because it’s the road to my house. Along the way, the river on my right reflects all the neon lights of Station Square. The seams in the road make my car bounce like a jet ski on water, and it’s like I’m on the river, taking it all in. The Pirates. The neon. The skyline. The corned beef sandwich. The yinzers. George. Franco. The clouds.
The place I always want to come home to.
