Some Folks Work the Plan -- And Plan the Adventures

One of the best vanity plates ever was in front of me a while back, rolling west on Interstate 66.

It was on a minivan, with a dad hunched over the wheel, ducking as toys and food flew back and forth between his battling spawn.

The plate said it all: "Plan B."

Maybe the driver once wanted to be an archaeologist slashing his way through the jungle, a mountaineer mapping new terrain or a crime scene investigator making brilliant deductions to solve the case.

But here he was, probably late for soccer practice or exiting early from a disastrous dance recital.

There are those among us who find a way, amid Washington's sea of suits and schedules, to live that Plan A, at least part of the time.

So let's take a moment from our desks and our cubicles, our commutes and our kids, to see how some of them managed to launch a great adventure this week.

Robert Hyman's business card simply reads: "Photographer. Mountaineer. Explorer."

When he's not in Honduran jungles with ornithologists or on a ledge in the Wassuk mountain range, he is a househusband in Glover Park, running errands and schlepping groceries.

In between trips to the vet and fixing casseroles, the 50-year-old, who always wanted to be an explorer, organizes expeditions of derring-do for folks with Plan B jobs and enough vacation to escape them from time to time. His most recent expedition started two days ago, when about a dozen folks, including a mom, some retirees, a few office workers and, okay, an FBI diver (who probably doesn't drive a minivan) began gathering in California to solve a World War II mystery.

They plan to find the missing aircraft piloted by Gertrude "Tommy" Tompkins Silver, the last of the Women Airforce Service Pilots, or WASPs, who is still unaccounted for.

It's a group of part-time adventurers who call themselves MAST, the Missing Airplane Search Team, and they do much of their work through a Yahoo chat group late at night.