Catapulting Into Summer: Anticipation and Entrepreneurship

Winter felt long in Wilmington, NC. Temperatures around 40 degrees persisted into March. I made this comment to a friend who responded that to him, “winter feels long every year”. I agree. We all anticipate the friendlier spring and summer months. But halfway through May, spring is quickly becoming summer, and the kids, having braved their end-of-school tests, are ready for school to be out, warm afternoon rain pushing them briefly back inside. Droning lawn mowers and “High School Senior” signs and revving convertibles with music blaring and Sunday night baseball - a heady time full of change and excitement.

This brief, promising pause between winter and summer reminds me of flying off of an aircraft carrier. Like a second-grader waiting for the bell to ring on the last day of school, I loved the excitement of being shot forward like a cannonball coupled with the persistent uncertainty about the launch’s ultimate outcome. Sitting behind a raised Jet Blast Deflector (JBD), watching the waves and waiting my turn, the anticipation of the impending launch was always palpable and physical. I heard the roar of the jet on the cat in front of me as a fellow pilot brought its engines up to full power, his exhaust stinging my eyes and shaking my plane side to side. Watched his flight control surfaces move as he checked the full throw of the stick, and saw the “Shooter” touch the deck signalling the launch. With the push of a button, the deck edge operator released thousands of pounds of steam pressure, the plane squatted then accelerated forward, the roar receded, the shaking stopped, and I watched a friend gracefully climb away from the water in front of the boat. They lowered the JBD. My turn.

Nick salutes the shooter before launching off of the USS Theodore Roosevelt in 2015.

When strapped into a 50,000 pound airframe accelerating from zero to 160 mph in two seconds, the situation can become dire very quickly. “Cold” cat shots and engine malfunctions that do not result in the required airspeed for aircraft flyaway can lead to a settle off the front of the carrier, a race to the ejection handle, and the total loss of the airframe. Through proper emergency procedure execution and training the likelihood of this event can be reduced, but never eliminated. Calm confidence, built on years of preparation, assuaged concerns about adverse outcomes, but couldn’t temper the thrill. The shooter put the catapult in “tension” (aptly named) - ready for launch, and signaled to “run up” the engines. I pushed the throttles up, checked the flight controls and engines, saluted the shooter, and looked forward, resting my head against the ejection seat.

I always smiled as the jet jolted then lunged, pinning me to the back of the seat and I careened off of the front of a 90,000-ton floating city in an unfriendly ocean somewhere far away. The end of the catapult stroke arrived unceremoniously - head thrown forward as the stiff acceleration from the catapult ceased - and the boat shrunk in the rearview mirrors as I climbed away.

Airborne. Steam rises from the waist cat of the USS Theodore Roosevelt in the background after launch.

If you’re a business owner, you know anticipation and uncertainty intimately. The persistent feeling that no matter how well you lead your employees, hold to your budget, or execute your growth strategy something unexpected and out of your control will happen. In many cases, you have been preparing your entire career for the moment a key employee tells you they are moving to another state, your competition drops their prices by 50%, or you land a key account that doubles revenue. You live your life on the catapult, ready to react to a settle off the bow, or rocket up into the afternoon sunshine. At 37th & Moss, there’s no place we’d rather be. School is out and exams are over. The shooter is giving the run it up signal. Let’s go flying.

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