We were really just foolin' around, headed to our EAA chapter meeting. My friend had called and offered a ride in his airplane. It wasn't instruction, just a ride.
"You fly, I'm going to take advantage of this chance to play with my new GPS," I said. And, given the luxury of being a passenger, I put my head down. I was reading IFR plates off my iPhone and setting up the approach in the GPS. And taking pictures with his camera.
As we turned downwind, the radio crackled "Blackfoot traffic, Cessna [whatever], taking runway 1 9 for departure."
We both looked up, trying to find the traffic. Was that the Cessna or the numbers? It was almost dusk, and hard to see. My friend asked the Cessna where he was, and he claimed to be well clear.
We turned base. I looked down at the GPS to check the extended centerline.
We turned final. I scanned the panel, out of habit. After all, I was a passenger.
"Hey," I asked, "how come we don't have any green lights?"
We went around and did the pattern right. The wheels felt good on the pavement.