2. Travis
The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the silence of my spacious living room as I recline on my leather couch, flipping through the pages of a flight magazine. It”s a rare moment of peace in the chaotic world I”ve found myself residing in. When I had the downtime, I took it. I know how short life can be. I want to enjoy the quiet moments.
I just got back from a cross-country flight. Before that, I was running a bunch of tech CEOs from Seattle to LA and then out to Miami. I was burnt out and looking forward to keeping my feet on the ground for a few days. I loved flying, but sometimes, a guy just needed to chill. I was the guy. I planned a couple of days of movies, fast food, and nothing else.
The weather was trash, so going out and doing much of anything wasn’t really in the cards. I toss the magazine to the side and get my butt up from the couch. I’m hungry. I’m halfway through making the biggest hoagie a man has ever seen when my phone vibrates on the counter.
“No. No, no, no.”
The only reason the phone would be ringing is if someone needed a pilot. But I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough. I had a very, very expensive jet I was paying for. I couldn’t just not work. With a sigh, I reach for it, already anticipating another last-minute request from a client with more money than sense.
”Hello?” I answer, expecting the familiar voice of my scheduling agent on the other end.
”Travis, it”s Kate from the agency,” comes the brisk voice of my scheduler. ”I”ve got an emergency request for a flight tomorrow morning. Can you manage it?”
I run a hand through my hair, already mentally rearranging my plans for the day. ”Where to?”
”Hawaii,” Kate replies, her tone tinged with urgency. ”They need to be there ASAP. I told them I was sure you would be willing.”
Hawaii. The word conjures images of pristine beaches and swaying palm trees—a welcome escape from the concrete jungle of Seattle. And no rain. Or at least, less rain and more sun. ”I”ll take it.”
“Perfect.”
“Is this a turn and burn or is a one-way?”
“They are anticipating three days. I explained they would be paying for your room and per diem for every day you were on standby.”
“You know I love you, Kate.”
She laughs softly. “You keep saying that and I might just have to tell my husband.”
“You can tell them I’ll do the job, but I can’t have the jet sitting idle for any more than three days,” I tell her. “If they aren’t ready to fly out, the jet leaves without them. I’ll have you put me on available status.”
“Will do hot stuff.”
“You’re playing with fire, Kate.”
“Hey, who do you want me to call for an attendant?” she asks.
I think about it. A three-day layover is the perfect opportunity to spend a little ‘quality’ time with one of the beautiful ladies that regularly flies with me. “How about Morgan?”
“She’s on her way to New York as we speak,” she replies. “Next.”
Morgan was my first choice. “Jennifer.”
“I’ll call her.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
I hang up and dial the number for the maintenance crew at the hangar. ”Hey, it”s Travis. I need the jet prepped for a flight tomorrow morning. Can you oversee it?”
The voice on the other end assures me that they can, and I hang up with a sense of relief. Running a private jet is no small feat, but thanks to my partnership with a bigwig investor and the severance package from my previous job, I”ve managed to make it work. The luxury jet appeals to the crem d la crème, which means I get to charge just a little extra. That extra would hopefully mean I could have the jet paid off in about three years. Then it was all gravy.
As I start packing a bag for the trip, the idea of spending a few days in tropical paradise begins to take hold. It”s been a while since I”ve had a chance to relax and unwind, and Hawaii sounds like just the ticket. I’ll get paid for the downtime. If it ends up being a one-way, I’ll take a week off. I earned it.
Just as I”m zipping up my suitcase, my phone rings again. I glance down and smile. It’s Sam. Sam is an old friend from college, and we”ve been through thick and thin together.
”Hey, buddy, what”s up?” I answer.
”Hey, Nate, just wanted to see what you”re up to,” Sam replies. ”You free tonight?”
I glance at the clock on the wall, weighing the pros and cons of a night out with Sam against the looming deadline of my early morning flight. In the end, the allure of spending time with an old friend wins out.
“I have to be up early, but I can go out for a bit,” I tell him. “Same place?”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
”Alright, see you in a bit.”
We hang up and I take one last look around my room, making sure everything’s in order before I leave. I”m not exactly an early riser. I”ve learned it”s easier to roll out of bed and go.
I walk out of the house, happy to see the rain has stopped. Hopefully, it stays that way, and it will be clear weather for tomorrow. The radar looks good.
The sports bar is the usual space we meet up at when Sam and I are both in town at the same time. That doesn”t happen often which is why I have to take advantage of it when I can.
The bar is crowded when I arrive. The music blares and people are laughing and shouting to be heard over it. I spot Sam at our usual spot at the far end of the bar. He”s nursing a beer and talking animatedly to the bartender.
“Hey Sam,” I call out, clapping him on his back as
I take the vacant stool next to him.
”You”re a sight for sore eyes,” he responds, looking genuinely pleased to see me. “Long time no see.”
“Tell me about it,” I respond, signaling the bartender for a drink.
”How have you been?” he asks. ”It seems like every time I land, you”re taking off.”
”Because that”s exactly what it”s like,” I chuckle. ”How”s the commercial world?”
He shook his head with a grown. Sam still flew for one of the major airlines. That was how we met. I no longer flew commercial. Sam was one of the few people that stood by me when my life fell apart a couple of years ago.
”It”s a grind, Nate. You know how it is... delays, disgruntled passengers, and don”t get me started on the paperwork,” He gave an exaggerated shudder for effect. ”Honestly, your idea of going private doesn”t seem too bad right now.”
I laughed, tilting my beer to him in acknowledgement. ”It”s got its pros and cons, man. Definitely nice to be in charge and have a little more freedom. And instead of two-hundred angry people, I just have to deal with a few.”
Sam looked thoughtful. ”Well, you”re looking well. The tan suits you.”
”Perks of the job,” I replied with a grin. ”Just got back from Miami. I didn”t have a lot of time, but I got a few hours in the sun. Hell, these days I hope to fly anywhere the sun is out.”
”I don”t blame you.”
”Once you pay off that jet, we need to talk about going into business together.”
Sam’s words take me by surprise. I turn to look at him, studying his face for any signs of joking. He meets my eyes with a seriousness that makes me realize he isn”t kidding. He”s sincere. The idea is tempting – Sam”s a great pilot and an even better friend. But venturing into business with him? That”s another ballgame altogether.
”I”ve been looking at the figures, Nate,” Sam presses on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. ”There”s good money in private aviation. You”re already reaping the benefits. With two pilots, we could double the profit. You wouldn”t have to work all the time.”
”We”ll have to see,” I shrug. ”I”m not sure what position I”ll be in. Is everything okay?”
”Yeah, fine. It”s just getting old.”
”I would think with the shortage of pilots right now, you could make some serious money. Ask for a raise.”
Sam laughs, a sound that”s somewhere between heartening and bitter. He clinks his beer against mine. “Here”s to dreams of riches and gold.”
There’s silence after that. It”s not uncomfortable; we”re both lost in our own thoughts, the kind of thoughts that only a long night and several glasses of beer can bring. Eventually, Sam speaks again.
”How are you doing for real?” he asks quietly. ”Better? Getting some sleep these days?”
”I”m alright,” I tell him. I”m not about to hash my feelings. I”m a dude.
”You know, you can talk to me,” he says seriously. ”I know it”s rare we”re in the same place at the same time, but I”m only a phone call away.”
”I appreciate that, but I”m okay. The private jet business is good. It keeps me busy and I”m not stuck reporting to a bunch of assholes that don”t know the first thing about flying. I”m good. I hit a rough patch, but I”m good.”
”Alright, alright,” he chuckles and holds up his hand to get the bartender”s attention. ”Next one is on me.”
I look at the time, do a little mental math and nod. ”Last one.”
”What time are you flying out?”
”Seven.”
”Shoot, you”ve got plenty of time,” he laughs.
Eight hours bottle to throttle was a guideline, not a rule, but I couldn”t risk messing up. Not again. My pilot”s license was too important.
”Alright, one more then,” I agree, pushing the empty glass towards him.
Our conversation ebbs and flows like we hadn”t lost any time. We swap stories about our latest flights, reminiscing about the good old days when we both wore the same blue uniform. Gossip about old colleagues is shared. Laughter as we remember the antics of some of our more colorful co-workers. It”s comfortable and a reminder of simpler times, before my life was uprooted by unforeseen circumstances.
I check the time and know it”s time to go. ”I hate to cut this little reunion short, but I need to get going.”
”I get it. We”ll have to catch up when I”m in town next.”
”Yeah, let”s just hope I”m in town at the same time.” I clap him on the shoulder and walk out of the bar.
I walk through the streets, back to my townhouse. Before going to bed, I pull up the information for the flight tomorrow, do a quick check of the weather and am satisfied it will be an uneventful flight. There are no storms hovering in the Pacific.
”Sandy beaches, here I come.”
I closed the laptop and head for bed. Of course, my brain is working overtime thinking about everything. Seeing Sam was good, but it was a reminder of my old life. A life I worked every day to forget. Moving on wasn”t easy. That was a silly saying anyway. You didn”t just move on from a death in the family. It was always there.