His ability to do that this month is in jeopardy. The Soaring Center is one of several companies grounded due to Federal Aviation Administration restrictions that prohibit private and charter flights from flying roughly within 45 miles of Salt Lake City International Airport. The order, in effect today until the end of the Games, has angered local businessmen who anticipated big business, and who say there’s been no compensation for their potential losses.
“We have 11 employees,” says Mayer, “but, because of this, I’ve had to lay everybody off for the month. We can’t afford to stay open.” Mayer estimates that he’ll lose upward of $50,000–losses, he says, that make no sense. Point of the Mountain, where his crew gives lessons, is “nowhere near any Olympic venues,” says Mayer. And, in the wintertime, there’s not enough thermal activity to stray, even if you wanted to: to really soar, you have to ride heat bubbles. No potential terrorist can force Mother Nature to cooperate with that in February.
About two months ago, Mayer says, he sent an employee to FAA hearings at Westminster College, in Salt Lake City, designed to address the airspace restrictions. But “there was no discussion, no chance to argue,” the employee reported back. Mayer wanted that chance, if only to convince people that the seasonal restrictions on the sport should exempt it from a blanket closure. “It’s just frustrating,” he says. “This is a slap in the face. I had to go out of my way to persuade employees to stay here for the Olympics, and then, at the last minute, they had to scramble to find work elsewhere.”
It’s the same story at Wasatch Powderbird Guides, where Michael Olson is a partner in the 29-year-old heli-skiing and -snowboarding operation. He had to lay off 20 people, and expects to lose about a quarter-million dollars–especially frustrating, he says, since a partner submitted a 16-page proposal to avoid this from happening. “Mid-November, we heard there were going to be some problems,” says Olson. So they tried to be proactive, he says. They asked the Secret Service–the body coordinating security–to place restrictions on them, or at least hire their guides since they navigate the terrain for a living. No such luck. “It’s a bummer, but we understand,” says Olson. Still, they don’t have to like it. Powderbird hired Washington, D.C., lobbyists, “to see if anything could be done,” Olson says. “We’re going to try to get compensation in whatever way we can.”
Like Mayer, he’s not sure why it had to come to this, though. Powderbird operates along seven circuits, some 40 miles away from any venue. (A circuit is a section of mountain with hundreds of ski runs.) “We don’t know what run we’re going to ski until we get up there, and we don’t tell people our landing sequences,” says Olson. Which is to say that the potential number of landing sights is so large–despite what you’ve seen in commercials, the helicopters do touch down–that it would be “difficult at best for a guy hiding in the bushes to take us over.” He’d have to know which of the many, many bushes to hide behind.
“All of these things were taken into consideration,” says Jim Mackin, a Secret Service spokesman. “None of it was done arbitrarily. We consulted with everybody that we thought had the information to make those decisions.” Decisions, says Mackin, the Secret Service knows have inconvenienced business owners. “We are aware and sensitive,” he says. But, “since September 11 we had to take a second look at what we have in place, and make changes to insure the safety of everyone going to the Games.”
That’s not enough to appease Miles Ivers, the owner and chief pilot of Park City Balloon Adventures, which takes riders on scenic hot-air balloon tours over Park City and Heber Valley. He expects to lose more than $200,000. “After spending $310 million on security,” says Ivers, “they might be able to give $20,000 to say, ‘I’m sorry’.” He says that his 45-minute tours shouldn’t be shut down. For one, his balloons move a half mile every hour; if you’ve seen “Austin Powers,” think of the scene where Austin flattens one of Dr. Evil’s henchman with a steamroller. About that fast. An attorney told Ivers he’d be wasting his time if he filed a lawsuit. What bothers him the most, though, is the government’s “lack of concern for the local businessman,” he says. “They don’t really care about the little guy. I would have jumped through all the hoops they asked me to if they’d let me fly. They didn’t even come ask me if there was [a way] to create a win-win solution. This is my life! I have three kids. A wife.” And now he has a small taxi company. He’ll use the three Balloon Adventures vans to shuttle tourists around town.
Not everyone’s going to be as accommodating. Mayer, of Cloud 9 hang gliding and paragliding, says: “A lot of people have been coming up to me saying, ‘We’re going to fly anyway.’ Lots of local pilots have said, ‘What can happen? They’re not going to see us.’ I can almost say for sure they’ll be people that will break the restrictions.”
Not wise says FAA spokesman Allen Kenitzer. “You’ll be in big trouble,” he says. There could be a fine or a revocation of an operating license. Will you be shot from the sky? “I’m not going to say that,” says Kenitzer. “But there will be military people watching you.”
