There is no doubt about it. Flying with the United States Air Force Thunderbirds was the ride of my life.

As I walked out to the tarmac Friday morning the eight Lockheed Martin F-16 Fighting Falcons were lined up glinting under the sun of a perfectly clear day. The crew was waiting in front of an F-16 with my name on it.

Yes, my name was on the side of the aircraft just below the glass canopy.

This was what dreams are made of.

I shook hands with an amazing crew who made this day possible and followed the pilot who would guide me through a soaring, magnificent, sometimes breathless, flight — Thunderbird 8, Maj. Michael Fisher.

There was no turning back.

Propelled by a Pratt and Whitney F100-PW-229 engine, these svelte fighter jets have a gravitational force (or g-force) of negative three to positive nine; a thrust of 29,100 pounds; can climb 30,000 feet per minute; and reach a speed of Mach 2 (more than 1,500 miles per hour).

After a restless night of excitement and nerves duking it out inside my stomach — the doubt of what my body could take —  a calm settled over me once I was safely strapped and buckled inside the cockpit, with my helmet, oxygen mask and visor secured.

I was in the hands of a pilot who served as an F-16 instructor pilot and flight commander for the 310th Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base in Arizona and has logged more than 2,000 flight hours and 430 combat hours.

This was the U.S. Air Force’s elite squadron.

Earlier I had received roughly three hours worth of briefing and training on everything from how to eject from the plane and use a parachute to breathing techniques that would pull me through the high g’s without blacking out.

The glass canopy shut over me. I felt like I was in a cocoon. I could hear the muffled hiss of the engines fire up through my earplugs. “Here we go!”

It was only a short jaunt down the airstrip before we rocketed vertically into the air. Absent were the butterflies in my stomach that I usually get before any regular passenger flight. This was the smoothest takeoff I had ever experienced. Fisher announced that we had just gone between three to five g’s before leveling off. I couldn’t help but smile. I had done it.

My anti-g suit that Staff Sgt. Madeline Conley had outfitted me in started to inflate ever so slightly when the g’s kicked in. The anti-g suit contains air bladders that inflate to push up the blood to vital organs such as the heart and brain rather than pooling at the feet and causing a blackout. When Conley had fit the suit onto me she had warned that it would be tight.

“Make it as tight as you can,” I said. “Just make it super tight. I want to keep my blood where it needs to be.”

But the suit doesn’t work on its own. There are physical demands as well. Before the g’s I was instructed to use a “strain technique” I had practiced multiple times with flight surgeon Maj. Michael Carletti.

The strain technique involved squeezing the calves, thighs, buttocks and abdomen and drawing in a partial breath in a slightly open mouth, then making a short but forceful “ka” sound before drawing in a wisp of air and waiting to repeat the breath after three counts. Piece of cake — just like patting your head and rubbing your stomach.

Before we increased g’s in each maneuver, Fisher warned me by saying — “Here — come — the — g’s.”

On “the” I would start the strain technique.

I worried that I would certainly forget to breathe or squeeze hard enough, but all I had to do was clench and follow Fisher’s breath as he coached me through. I wouldn’t have to ask to hold his hand after all.

Right-side up, upside down and sideways, we careened over Montana’s magnificent landscapes — West and East Glacier, Flathead Lake, Hungry Horse Dam and Browning. Fisher was an excellent guide.

Browning was our destination for going through several intricate and precise maneuvers that Fisher had demonstrated using a model F-16 earlier in the day.

My favorites included a vertical roll where we spiraled toward the sun. What am I saying? All the rolls were invigorating! After doing a four-point roll Fisher asked if I was ready for an eight-point roll. Both left me squealing with delight and yelling like a kid on a roller coaster, “Woohoo!”

You know, there’s nothing that changes your perspective on the world quite like hanging suspended from your seat upside down in an F-16. Fisher asked me how I was feeling.

“Like I’m going to fall into the sky,” I said. “Annnd kind of queasy.”

He gave me a cooling-off period to breathe before our last turn at nine g’s, the ultimate and final maneuver in my mind.

“Here — come — the — g’s,” Fisher said.

My face felt as if it was melting backward like in a cartoon. That was the highest g-force we would undergo, and the lowest was negative two g’s. I hadn’t blacked out or gotten sick. I had gone through all the maneuvers on the menu that day. I really did it.

As we landed and disembarked, the same Thunderbirds crew that prepared our flight was waiting and cheering. I was beaming.

I couldn’t help but think of the 130 airmen keeping the entire Thunderbirds unit, formally known as the United States Air Force Air Demonstration Squadron, operating smoothly and demonstrating the depth, skill, confidence and professionalism of the U.S. Air Force.

 I was was so honored to be a guest of the Thunderbirds and I can’t express my thanks to everyone involved at each step including Public Affairs Officer Maj. Darrick Lee and especially to Superintendent of Public Affairs Master Sgt. Stan Parker for photographing each moment.

It sounds like I’m giving a speech at the Academy Awards, but I would be remiss not to give a huge thank-you to Fisher, also known as Thunderbird 8 and “Drago”: “I love your enthusiasm, too!”

And today, when I return to cover the 2014 Mountain Madness Airshow I’ll smile to myself when the F-16s rocket through the sky, knowing that “America’s ambassadors in blue” have totally made my millennium.

Reporter Hilary Matheson may be reached at 758-4431 or by email at hmatheson@dailyinterlake.com.