Now, let me explain to you what happens when a helicopter lifts from a municipal airfield. It doesn't go straight up vertically, like you see in the movies. Because we were leaving an airport, we had to take the same trajectory as the small planes and private jets that come and go — at an upward pitch. When a chopper does this, the tail has to tip upward, higher than the cockpit, as it propels forward. Neither Aaron nor I were informed of this, so you can imagine our, uh, surprise when this maneuver was abruptly executed. Suddenly, I was pressed back against my seat while Aaron (eyes sufficiently bugged out) was practically over me.

Within a minute, the helicopter was high enough to level out, where it then banked sharply to the right and rocketed out to the ocean while gaining altitude. In no time, we reached our cruising position at around 500 feet. I don't know if it was because we we flying so low, but after the initial jolt of takeoff, I was eerily calm and devoid of any anxiety.

With our destination approximately 200 miles away, the flight time would take just a little over an hour there and back. Along the way, the scenery was nothing short of spectacular. It was a rush — literally — to watch the morning traffic below just chugging along the famous Pacific Coast Highway as we soared by. Then we beheld the luxurious oceanside mansions, estates and compounds along Malibu, Ventura, then Santa Barbara. Here and there, people were walking their dogs along the beaches, surfing, swimming and even parasailing. A short distance from the shore were huge seaweed gardens in crazy paisley designs undulating weirdly with the tide.

During the remaining 20 minutes of our flight, we suddenly climbed higher in preparation for turning east and flying over the majestic Santa Lucia Mountain range. Once that was traversed, we entered a beautiful green valley and touched lightly down (since we weren't landing at a public airport we could make an almost vertical descent). When we stepped off and the engines were silenced, I was amazed how quiet it was. I could actually hear a gust of wind kick up and whoosh by as unseen birds chirped in the distance.

The next few hours went by quickly. We were picked up by vans and driven to the campus (for more photos and details of Lorenzo's trip, check out the feature in an upcoming Digest issue). After the planned itinerary was met, we returned to our transportation. This time, I couldn't wait to get on board since the ride up was so exhilarating and surreal.

As we approached the helicopter, Eva said, "Devin, you sit up with Lorenzo this time." I accepted the gracious offer, but in these seats, I found out after sitting down that there are five points to the restraints. I stared at them dumbly, but Lorenzo came to the rescue by reaching over, and in just mere seconds, he had me all buckled in. Since I was in the first-class section this time, I got to wear a headset and listen to the flight crew's ongoing communication with air traffic control. I was so fascinated by the chatter and watching the guys work the controls that I hardly looked outside during the flight home.

Then we landed at Santa Monica and the trip was over. I don't know if I permanently conquered my phobia of commercial air travel (we'll see when I fly to Seattle next month), but my trip that day with Lorenzo Lamas in a Black Hawk helicopter was anything but a white-knuckle experience.