Chapter Fourteen Nathan
Chapter Fourteen
Nathan
Whoever wisheth to learn to fly one day, must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance.
—FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE
It’s been over a week, and Claire hasn’t taken me up on my offer to go running with Maverick. For all I know, she’s working a ton and going on jogs through Central Park in New York or on the greenways in Nashville. Or perhaps she went home and is jogging with her boyfriend over the Golden Gate.
I hate running. I’m more of a CrossFit guy. However, today I’m walking downhill to the airport because the sun is shining. Or as we say in Seattle, “The mountain is out.” It’s so cloudy here that I probably see Mount Rainier from the sky more often than I do from land.
My whole neighborhood seems to have had the same idea of going for a walk.
I have to dodge slower pedestrians to get to work on time.
Thankfully, it’s a late start today. The ground is still wet from an earlier rain shower and the air chilly in the shadows, but this boost of unexpected vitamin D makes up for all of that.
Across the street a flight attendant struggles to pull her bags uphill toward the apartments.
Since I’m working a local trip today, I’ll return tonight and don’t have to tote any luggage.
I simply wear my backpack with the required items, like my tablet and a few basics I’ll need in case we get stuck somewhere.
I double take at the sight of a bun on the flight attendant across the street, but her hair is too dark to be Claire’s. As for Claire, she was planning to transfer out of Seattle as soon as possible, so I probably won’t see her again before she gets based in SFO.
After reaching the cross street and pushing a button for the elevator that will take me up to a sky bridge, I pull out my phone and log into the Premier Air employee website to check which date transfers are announced.
The twenty-seventh of the month. If transferred, she’d have three move days before reporting to her new base.
This gives us a week and a half to run into each other again, which really isn’t much time when you’re out of town as often as we are.
It’s silly I’m still thinking about this. But I enjoyed working with her, and I’d enjoy doing it again. Most flight attendants are great, but today I’m stuck with Sick Guy. I plan to stay in the flight deck as much as possible.
For the rest of my walk, I upload the flight release paperwork and mentally prepare for our trip.
Three legs. The first one is only 212 miles to Walla Walla, Washington—the town so nice they named it twice.
Folks who don’t live around here have probably never heard of it, but it’s a cute little place in the drier southeast region of this state.
Walla Walla is known for growing sweet onions but visited for the vineyards.
On overnights there, we stay in the kind of historic hotel where they film horror movies.
I know this because they were filming a horror movie on my last visit.
For this trip, though, we won’t even be leaving the airport—if you can call it that.
The building is so small you can see right through it to the taxis waiting on the other side.
After a quick turn, we’ll head 812 miles to Denver for a three-hour sit.
Some pilots “bid avoid” Denver in their schedule requests because the weather is nuts.
Snow often affects flights even more than the turbulence caused by the Rocky Mountains on landing.
Looks as if we’ll be racing a snowstorm today and have an alternate of Colorado Springs.
Last time I was in Colorado Springs, it had been the most gorgeous fall day for hiking Manitou Incline. And here I go thinking about Claire again.
Vincent slaps me on the shoulder, alerting me to the fact I’ve arrived at our gate. “You got everything you need in your backpack in case we get stuck in Denver overnight?”
I should have thought of that ahead of time. After getting stuck without a suitcase once, I at least knew to bring a toothbrush and change of boxers on all flights.
“Everything but food,” I assure him. I’ll have plenty of time to grab one of my favorite empanadas in the Denver airport.
Vincent rolls a briefcase-sized suitcase on wheels. He’s more prepared than I am. But where’s his wife? She’d been on the trip sheet when I printed it out last night.
“Desiree here?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She didn’t want to risk getting stuck in Denver because she’s supposed to go wedding dress shopping with our daughter tomorrow, so she called out.”
I immediately go on alert, gaze roving the gate for Desiree’s replacement. What are the chances I’d work with Claire again? As a newer flight attendant, she’d be one of the first called. Everything is seniority-based in the airlines.
“Desiree also didn’t want to run the risk of getting sick from Alex. I figure I’m a little safer in the flight deck, though I’ll take my echinacea just in case.”
“He claims it’s just allergies,” I joke, though I’m more focused on who is replacing Desiree in the forward galley than the habitually sick guy working aft. I don’t see any female flight attendants headed this way, so I pull out my phone again to check the updated version of our trip sheet.
Two square toes of men’s shiny black dress shoes join Vincent and my feet on the floor beyond my phone screen. “Looks like this is going to be a guys’ trip,” says a gruff male voice.
I glance up in surprise and disappointment to find a short, barrel-chested man with a trim gray beard. Not your average flight attendant.
He holds out his hand. “I’m Larry.”
I put my phone away to shake. If he’s Desiree’s replacement, then there’s no reason to check the trip sheet.
Vincent takes more of an interest in the new guy. “I’m not sure I’ve ever worked an all-male trip before. Welcome to our crew.”
“Thanks. I’m a retired police officer, but I got bored being at home. I’m hoping to take advantage of the pilot program the company offers for flight attendants.”
With the recent pilot shortage, airlines became desperate, and ours offered to pay half the training costs for flight attendants to attend pilot training.
Ever since then Vincent has been trying to talk all our flight attendants into stepping into the cockpit, so he’ll love having easy access to Larry right outside the door.
Vincent: Flying is so easy!
Most Flight Attendants: I’ve heard everyone cries in training.
Vincent: Oh, you’ll cry. But it’s worth it.
Before this trip is over, he’ll have signed Larry up for a discovery flight.
The gate agent arrives and lets us down the jet bridge.
I stash my backpack next to my seat in the cockpit, then head outside for my preflight walk-around.
Often when it’s this nice out, the captain will offer to do the inspection for us lowly first officers, but he’s currently too enthralled with educating Larry, and I’m thankful.
With my earplugs in to prevent hearing damage from engine noise, I get to enjoy the sunshine a little bit longer. I wave to our fuelers and baggage handlers, who scramble around like ants on picnic scraps.
I don’t take it for granted when everything runs smoothly. This is how it’s supposed to go. The way we enjoy it. It’s why we signed up for the job.
A few larger planes take off into the blue sky against the backdrop of trees and mountains that make Seattle my favorite airport to fly in and out of. I glance at my watch because it’s about that time. I still need to do my inspection inside.
Passengers have already boarded when I return.
Cap glances out of the corner of his eye from his seat. “I did the crew brief and welcome announcement already.”
I nod and get busy because I’ve got some catching up to do. Especially since I’m flying this first leg. I’m running out of chances to beat Vincent at our landing game before I upgrade to captain and don’t get to work with him anymore.
After our thirty-five-minute flight, I set down the plane like a silk scarf and turn to Vincent in triumph.
His big toothy grin shows he’s prouder of what he’s taught me than he is bummed to lose. And perhaps that’s what he loves most about his job—training up the next generation to surpass his greatness. The mark of a true mentor.
I’ll be the immature one and rub it in. “Better go collect my compliments for points.”
His chuckle reverberates in the small space. “You might be in for a surprise.”
“You think you can do better, old man?” I click the button to unlock the flight deck door and climb out to stretch my cramped legs.
With a wary eye, Larry stands at attention in the galley, watching passengers exit onto a ramp.
I follow his gaze, expecting to see an inebriated frat boy or grandma who refused to keep her pet in its kennel.
All I see are collared shirts and work boots, passengers who mostly look to be businessmen who sell farm equipment.
“Something happen back here?” I ask.
Larry narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Not yet.”
I hide my grin because I appreciate this extra level of protection, even in Walla Walla.
It wasn’t too long ago that a plane had to divert to Idaho because a passenger claimed to be a space alien and tried to access the cockpit so he could fly.
Had Claire been the one to take Desiree’s place, she might have had her soda in a sock ready, but she’d be sure to apologize should she ever have to use it.
A man in a sports coat nods at me on his way out. “Nice landing.”
“Thank you.” That’s one. I hold up a finger behind my back to keep track.
“Great landing.” A giggly middle-aged woman, accompanied by a group of other middle-aged women all dressed in outfits more appropriate for twentysomethings, high-fives me on her way out.
The rest of the ladies echo their sentiments, and I rake in the points like Super Mario earning a power-up.
Larry grimaces. “Girls’ trip.”
I just chuckle because that girls’ trip is going to help me win the landing game on our guys’ trip. Leaning backward, I stick my head into the cockpit. “Six points, Cap.” I raise my pitch to play dumb. “Is that good?”
He turns sideways, arm resting over the back of his seat, but he doesn’t respond. With that half smirk on his face, he’s waiting for something.
“Nice landing,” someone else says from the galley. A female voice. Smooth yet lighthearted.
I know the tone. It makes me smile.
But what would Claire be doing here? Her own girls’ trip or a romantic getaway? Am I about to meet the infamous Wyatt?
I pause, catch Vincent’s arched eyebrow, and turn in wonder. “Claire?” She’s wearing her dress uniform, so she must be on a deadhead.
She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in challenge. “Does a compliment count if it’s coming from a flight attendant on your crew?”
She’s working this trip? I look past her for Alex. The cabin is empty. “Did Alex call out sick?”
“About time he calls out sick,” Vincent inserts from the flight deck. That fraudster knew Claire was working our trip and didn’t tell me.
She wrinkles her nose. “He might have ruptured an eardrum.”
I’m done talking about Alex. “Your compliment on my landing definitely counts.” I lean back in the cockpit again to glare at Vincent. “Especially since I didn’t know she was on our crew.”
Vincent shrugs, now his turn to play dumb. “I wasn’t aware you cared so much.”
I shake my head at him. He’s making up for Desiree not being here to announce to passengers (and me) that Claire is taken. “Oh, I care. Because there’s no way you’re going to get more than seven compliments on a landing in Denver.”
He chuckles at that, and I leave him to his mirth. Though his phone lights up with a call from Crew Scheduling, which is never a laughing matter. But whatever they have to say can’t bother me because no matter where we go, I’ll be with Claire.
I find her watching Larry check the badges worn by the cleaning crew before letting them enter the plane.
A small smile twitches at the corner of her lips.
No flight attendant I’ve seen has ever checked cleaners’ badges before, and I’m sure Claire is as entertained by the former cop’s precautions as she is grateful for his protection.
She turns her grin toward me. “Larry,” she says with playful scorn.
“Larry,” I repeat.
I heard once that when someone feels connected to you, they mirror your actions. For example, if you take a drink of water, they’ll take a drink of water too. Perhaps that’s why I repeat her. I don’t know . . . it just seems natural.
Larry ignores our joking and brushes his palms together brusquely, like his work here is finished. “Nathan, shouldn’t you be doing your walk-around? This is a quick turn.”
Oh yeah. Somehow I forgot.
“Actually”—Vincent steps into the doorway—“we’re going to be here a while. Denver is on a ground stop due to inclement weather.”
I try to look as annoyed as I usually am when we get delayed. We don’t get paid for sitting here. Of course, if we stayed on schedule, we’d be sitting in Denver longer, so this doesn’t affect me as much as it could. Biggest problem is, I didn’t bring lunch.
I glance out the door at the sunshine and blue sky. We might not have Denver’s snowstorm here, but we also don’t have their large selection of restaurants. Just one little deli on the other side of security, but it will do.
I face Claire and tilt my head toward the tiny airport. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Good. I guess I should invite the rest of the crew too. “Larry?”
“My wife packed me a lunch.” He turns toward Vincent. “Plus I was hoping to get a tour of the flight deck during our sit in Denver. Maybe now would be a better time.”
“It’s the perfect time,” I answer for our captain.
Vincent shoots me a warning look, apparently torn between giving an impromptu flight lesson and the need to play chaperone. Strange, he’s never expressed this need with any of our other flight attendants. Though in looking back, those girls all seemed to avoid me and my relationship sob story.
So what does Vincent consider the problem now? That I’m not lamenting an ex or that Claire appears to enjoy my company? Either way I’m in a better place.
Besides, it’s just lunch.