Flew the little Cessna on the first leg of the Kook barnstormer reading tour today, from Denver to Santa Fe. Had learned to fly in 20 days in Montana for a story, another Kook adventure, and this was the beginning of my first big cross country trip. Glorious early morning, skirting north of the Spanish Peaks, down over the flanking meadows of the San Luis Valley, along the riven canyon of the Taos Box. All well. A few whispy clouds, windrows edging the farms throwing long shadows. Spoke to Air Traffic Control in Santa Fe who told me to land on runway 35. Just as I was turning for my final approach he called, “Triple Three Alpha, you’re landing on 2! You are on final for 2!” Landing on the wrong runway is not advised. He made a split second decision. “No wind, landing on 2 approved, go ahead.” Whoops. I landed. The guy in the tower, I knew, was loved by his mother. He is a great dad. He has a dog. He has a sense of humor. The Kook abides.