Here Comes the Sun - or - my big weekend

Beatles fans know that song to be one of George Harrison's contributions to the world's greatest album known to man - Abbey Road - second in Harrison's awesomeness only to "Something," which, lucky for us, is on the same album. Okay, some of you will argue that it is not the world's greatest album, but you have to admit that it certainly is in the top 10. Anyhow, the story behind that song according to George (also mentioned in Clapton's autobiography), is that the year in which it was written was pretty stressful and wrought with frustrations for George - namely getting arrested for marijuana possession, having his tonsils removed, and temporarily quitting the Beatles. So one day, he decides to scrap all his responsibilities and head out to his good friend Eric Clapton's house. It was such a beautiful day, and it felt so good to be free from responsibility that day, that he walked around Clapton's garden playing one of EC's acoustic guitars, where he ended up writing "Here Comes the Sun." A classic is born.
 
I can remember hearing that song on the am radio - years ago while flying freight - after popping out the other side of a rain shower into the sunny, clear day. I was struck by not only the timing of the song but its message of hope and better things to come. Usually, I heard songs like Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire." I couldn't help but laugh at my morbid interpretation of the lyrics as I was shooting an approach into Kansas City, hearing Cash sing, "I fell in to a burnin' ring of fire... I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher...."

I heard "Here Comes the Sun" again just before Don and I left the house bound for Little Rock during my vacation. That extended weekend turned into a trifecta of Spectacular. First, we went to the Jimmy Buffett concert on March 1st - which always officially ends Winter and begins Spring. The weather in Arkansas was unseasonably warm - in the 80's, and the sun felt so good on my skin. Even on the drive along the winding highway, I could feel my winter funk melting away. There was just something so great about the warmth and listening to Radio Margaritaville. As a born and raised Parrotthead, I know every song Buffett ever wrote or performed. The acoustics at the concert stunk, or maybe it was our seats, but it was still great to watch Jimmy perform. There's a guy who truly loves what he does! He has so much fun at his job, you can't help but smile when you see or hear him play.

A few days to recover led me to the real reason for heading to Little Rock - the half marathon! I'll tell ya.... that half marathon training is what kept me from falling completely off the diet/exercise wagon. I tend to get the winter blues. Although this winter wasn't nearly as bad as last, the blues still came. First comes the desire to drink a lot more. Then, the comfort eating starts. Finally, the lack of motivation to do anything physical sets in. And STAYS. For about 3 months. If not for my obligation to the race, I probably would have become a complete slob, and undone everything I worked so hard for physically all summer.

Race day came March 4th, and I was nervous and excited! The Little Rock marathon/half marathon/10K was sold out at 12,000 runners!! I was in the back of the pack. I think the Kenyans in the front actually finished the marathon before I even made it to the starting line. I waved to my little group of cheerleaders (Dad, his friend Kelli, her daughter Sarah, and My Sweet Cheeks) just before I stepped across the mat that activates the timing device attached to my shoe. Off we go!! The first mile went by in a flash, and I thought, "Hell, this is going to be EASY!"

About mile 3, I came across a band playing "Jambalaya." I give them the rocker sign and keep on running. I passed the 5 hour marathon pace group. The streets are lined with people cheering, banging cowbells, holding signs for their favorite runner (usually someone's mom or dad). Somewhere along the way, I pass the 4:50 marathon pace group. Boy, I'm really hauling ass!! Open the box of raisins I had brought along and eat a handful of them to keep up my energy. Give a raisin-y smile to a photographer who probably thought - "That chick is chewing tobacco during her race?? Well, this is Arkansas!!"

I made sure to high-five every child who held his or her hand out to the runners. I stopped at every water stop and one porta-potty. I gave a fist-pump or a rocker symbol to every live band along the way. I thanked every volunteer. Every time I saw a photographer, I ran extra hard and put on a mean face so they could get a good picture, hoping it didn't make me look constipated. I couldn't believe how many people lined the streets of the course to cheer on the runners. I marveled at their ability to maintain their enthusiasm for hours. I thought, "well crap, they're working harder than I am!"

Mom later asked me if there was a time I wanted to quit. That time came around mile 7. I looked at my GPS watch and thought to myself, "Mile 7?!? That's ALL?!!? F@#K!!!! This was a mistake. I'm never going to make it. Oh my God, there's another hill!" Just then, I came across another band, playing a song I've never heard. I do, however, remember the lyrics they were singing, "She puts the 'HO' in 'Jose Cuervo..." That little laugh and another handful of raisins gave me the strength to keep going. About mile 10, my feet no longer felt like feet, but instead bloody, beaten, toe-less stumps being ground against the pavement. I thought, "just 3 more miles.... come on, 3 miles is just a warmup run! Come on... step step step.... breathe breathe breathe. You can do it!!!"

A lone trumpeter played a jazzy version of "When the Saints Go Marching In." I was sure it was Gabriel playing to alert St. Peter of my arrival at the Pearly Gates. I was so thankful instead to see the sign directing the marathon folks one way, and the half-marathon folks another. I laughed and waved goodbye to the 26.2 milers, "See ya!!! If you need me, I'll be downing ice cream and beer. Have fun with that extra 13 miles."

Mile 12.8 - I saw the finish line. I heard the crowd. I saw the giant clock and heard spectators shout, "keep going! You're almost there!!" For a second, my eyes went blurry, my throat closed, my breath caught, and I got incredibly emotional. I'm really going to do this!!!! I then thought, "I'll get emotional later. Now I need to breathe!" I picked up the pace and could no longer feel my legs or bloody toe-less stumps posing as feet." I crossed the finish line in 2 hours and 20 minutes - 10 minutes faster than my goal!

It was an experience like no other. The volunteers wrapped me in mylar and handed me my finisher's medal as they directed me to the bananas and crackers. I walked around in a daze trying to comprehend what I had just done. As I did my stretches I thought, "That wasn't so hard. I can even do better! Oh, how I want to do another one!!"

So.... Buffett and half-marathon. On to the third "spec" in our trifecta of spectacular.

The night before the race, my dad and his friend Kelli took Don and me out to an Italian restaurant to "Carb load." That's where runners eat a bunch of carbs to give their bodies the energy to run a good race. I don't know much about the science, but I'm always looking for an excuse to eat pasta. I turn off my phone for 2 hours. 2 hours! That's it. When I turned it back on again, my world changed! I see texts from several people - "congrats, Captain Willes!!"

WHAT?!?!? It's not even April Fool's!

Yep, the bid award was finally published. Yours truly was awarded the very last captain slot. I'm the plug. I'm the runt. I'm the absolutely most junior person to get the award. Call me whatever you want, but BY GOD, CALL ME "CAPTAIN!!!"

Today, I spoke with Crew Planning, and my class date is April 2nd. That's not set in stone; they were waiting to hear from a few guys who may or may not take the April 16th class. Given my history with this company, I won't celebrate until I am actually on the line, captaining an aircraft. But it gives me hope. I am humbled and touched by how many people have congratulated me and wished me good luck. I hope I don't let you down. There is a lot to study. No doubt, this will be difficult, but I know I can do it.

My winter blues are gone. I'm back on the diet/exercise wagon, giving running a break (hoping my black toenails on the right foot will heal and that weird shooting-pain sensation will stop in the toes of my left foot). I'm deep into my first week of P90X. We have sprung forward and can look forward to flowers, sunshine, and baseball. I feel like there may be an end to what seemed like nothing but perpetual spinning my wheels regarding my career. At least I have a shot at it, anyway.

"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here."

I know this was a long blog entry. Thank you to the ones who made it this far. You're my cheerleaders - always there when it feels like I've come so far, I'm running out of gas, and I still have so far to run. Without my friends and family, there is no way I could make it through the marathon of life.

I hope the sun shines for all of you this Springtime.

Drinkin' Wine, spo dee oh dee, drinkin' wine

This will be my first tipsy blog. As long as it takes me to write these damn things, this very well might turn into my first drunken blog. You've been warned. HAHA!

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!" That is a quote from Dante's Inferno. I am going to print it out the next time I go to the simulator and place it on the simulator door.

I had my annual Proficiency Check a few days ago, abbreviated in the pilot world as "PC." A PC is simply a flight and knowledge test that pilots have to endure in order to remain employed. Here, it's a yearly event for First Officers (copilots), and every 6 months for Captains (well.... the test is every year, but they must do time in the sim every 6 months). Honestly, it's a really good idea, because you'd be surprised how much stuff a person can forget in a year's time if they don't use it. Stuff like the company mandated emergency procedures and callouts, for example. What sucks about it, however, is that it's a jeopardy event - meaning that if I screw up, I could potentially be out of a job. OR, if I "unsat" any items that need to be trained to proficiency in order to keep my job here at Chautauqua Airlines, I must then attempt to explain why I screwed up the missed approach with an engine failure to a potential employer from a REAL airline who may or may not be sympathetic.

I studied for a few weeks, going into the PC feeling like I was ready for the Captain upgrade. However, after a few questions, I realized that I could not build them an airplane like I thought I could, and my confidence was a little shaken.

Hang on......

All right, I'm back. I needed to refill my wine glass. Aaaaannnndd.... the cat was in the kitchen (not the cradle. haha). So, I needed to sing a few bars to her. Today, it was O SOLO GATO...... (instead of O solo mio). Sweet Clara the Cat gets serenaded every time we're both in the kitchen. I'm Italian, so she's Italian by association. Italians are silly.... I digress.... back to my checkride......




We moved from the briefing room to the simulator. The sim is ice cold and smells of sweat, fear, failure, and dreams that have been raped and shat upon. My sim partner goes first and I am simultaneously joyed and dismayed that I have to go last. I make a fine "checklist bitch" and we get through his checkride with no problems at all, but I am worn out. After a short break, it is my turn to be baptized by fire. Specifically, a #2 engine fire. I manage to make it through the checkride with a satisfactory performance, yet I am humbled and angry that I didn't perform as well as I know I could have.

But.... I'm good for another YEAR!!! YEAH BABY!!

I just spent 2 hours playing the piano after YEARS of letting dust collect on it. As my current Facebook status says, " Poor Beethoven will come haunt me in my dreams, Billy Joel will probably sue for property damage, and the cat probably won't come out of hiding until late evening. My right wrist hurts, but my soul feels good! I need to get my piano chops polished up again."

I remember a time, when I was a music major, before I ever THOUGHT about being a pilot....... when the piano was my best friend. I used to break into the music building in college after security closed it, wheel the piano out into the hallway for better acoustics, and hammer away Beethoven sonatas and Rachmaninoff pieces, mixed in with a little Billy Joel. There was no better therapy. The piano got me through uncertainty, heartbreaks, and the stress of not knowing what the future had in store. My soul always felt cleansed and pure after playing the piano. When my fiance dumped me, I used to place his picture on the piano and play until the keys were soaked with tears. Like a friend holding me as I cried, the piano never let me down.

Where the F did THAT memory come from?!?!? Stupid wine, haha!


When I was a tot, having temper tantrums because I hated to practice the piano, Mom used to say, "someday you'll thank me for making you play the piano." She was right!!

Anyhow. There is another captain bid out. Also, we've announced that our Grand Rapids and Milwaukee bases are closing. I swear, this company opens and closes bases like Lady Gaga opens and closes her legs. I can say in all honesty - I am at peace with whatever the results of this bid are. If I upgrade, I will lose my vacation (it's just our company's way) - which I have coming the last week of Feb and the first week of March. The half-marathon I've been training so hard for these past few months is on March 4, and I will be SUPER PISSED if I have to miss it.  But, if they call and want me in class, you'd better believe I will be shit-flippin', flyin' F##K happy to be in class!! After my PC, I was looking forward to reading things that don't concern airplanes at all.

So.... whatever fate has in store, BRING IT!! I have my piano, my Sweet Cheeks, my cat, and my WINE.

Cheers!!

Same frustrations, different day.

Well, the sunshine and roses of my last post didn't last long! haha!

I've at last come to terms with my career's most recent disappointment. We had a bid out for 70+ captain vacancies recently. I'll spare my non-airline friends the details, but the gist of it is this - once again, I didn't make the list.

Oh, but this time I swore I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Not like last time, a year ago, when I just knew I was going to get it. I was studying hard and asking my captain's opinions on everything, putting myself in his place and thinking proactively. When I didn't get that one, I was like the Tasmanian devil in my hotel room, cursing and throwing crap everywhere like a 2-year old. Or, the time before that - 4 years ago - when I actually had a captain class and our crew planning guy called me 3 days prior all apologetic, "Hey... um, I see you haven't been notified. See, we forgot to ask someone ahead of you on the seniority list if they wanted in the class and of course they do. But don't worry, we'll put you in the next one!!" Then the economy went down the crapper, we furloughed and downgraded. I was like a kicked puppy then. I guess the rosy side to that one is that I would have been downgraded a few months later anyway if I had actually made it through upgrade.

Nope, this time I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Then I heard a rumor prior to the final award that I had received a captain spot. A few days later, I heard that was no longer the case. The official memo came out and - Not my time again. I should have known.

Ugh. How many times does Charlie Brown have to fall on his ass before he tells Lucy to go F*** herself with that damned football??

I'm studying for my annual Proficiency Check that's scheduled for Feb 6th. For you non-airline people, that means I have to go through a lengthy test that consists of an oral exam over systems and regulations, followed by a few hours in the simulator training for every possible emergency. These PCs are a good idea, because you'd be surprised how much you can forget in a year! I'm an anxious test-taker as it is, but "the box" is especially hard for me to confront because my initial sim experience was so traumatic.

It was 5 years ago, and I had never flown anything bigger than a light twin engine aircraft when I got this job. I'd never flown with an autopilot, and you can forget all that fufu pretty glass-cockpit crap. I came from flying freight into every kind of weather you can imagine in a ratty Cessna held together with happy thoughts and duct tape. I could fly the hell out of that plane, sing while I did it, and flirt with every Air Traffic Controller in the Midwest!

When it came time to begin simulator training for my initial here at this job, the first thing my sim instructor did when he met me was ask me if I was a screamer.
"I'm sorry?"
"You know.... do you scream and yell during the lesson?  I hate screamers," he said with a wink, trying to be charming. He had broccoli in his teeth and his breath smelled like a troll had taken a shit and died in his mouth. While I ignored the obvious innuendo, he assured me he wasn't a screaming instructor. However, as soon as he turned the sim on, he commenced the screaming. I sat there and took it while flying like it was my first time ever behind the controls of anything because I was so overwhelmed by everything. My sim partner flew like he was sprung from the loins of Chuck Yeager and born in the tail cone of the plane, but he'd sit there and argue with the instructor. Finally, on day 3 when all of our peers were about a full lesson ahead of us in their training, it all came to a head. We were on fire, had just secured an engine, and were running through the single-engine landing checklist when sim partner and instructor got in a pissing match about setting the speeds.

Suddenly, the instructor shouted at the top of his lungs, "PUT THE F***ING LANDING GEAR DOWN!! I'M ENDING THE LESSON, AND YOU TWO ARE GOING TO GET A NEW INSTRUCTOR! YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT AT THIS AIRLINE, MUCH LESS IN THIS BUSINESS!!!!"

He stopped the sim, stormed off, and I saw my career swirling down a giant toilet, taking with it every dollar I had borrowed or been given to pursue it.

We eventually got a new instructor who started us off at square one and somehow between the 3 of us, we managed to get both my partner and myself through the checkride. It was really the hardest thing I had ever done.

Remembering that I fought so hard and went through so much to get where I am now helps to quiet the voice that tells me to quit, to give up, to go back to school for yet another career change. My more positive friends assure me that just the sheer mathematics of attrition at our company equal an upgrade in the near future. Aside from that, the mathematics of the geezers finally retiring from the big airlines is supposed to create a "pilot shortage." I've heard these statements so many times over the last 5 years that I find it hard to believe in the Hope and Good Times Ahead they promise. There are bad times everywhere, and if you meditate on every one of them, it'll make you bitter and hopeless. Perhaps that's why so many pilots are alcoholics? People say, "don't give up. It's gonna happen."

Isn't that what the Cubs' fans say every year? Haha!!

A good friend of mine (and I am blessed with so many good friends) said that perhaps life is waiting for you to be content with what you have before it offers you something else. I can see that. I feel guilty for wanting so much. I promise I don't take for granted that I am in fact doing something I love for a (very small) living, that I work with the best people in the world, have parents who love me and are proud of me, and come home to such a happy life with Don and the cat. Truth be told, I would have been disappointed if I was awarded a captain class that made me scrub the plans to run my very first Half Marathon (which I've spent the last 2 months training for!) and the Jimmy Buffett concert just prior to that.

So, maybe it's not time to slit my career's wrists with the crash axe and punch out. I just wanted some grain of hope that life will improve, that my career will progress, that I can stop living paycheck to paycheck. Someday, it will. In the meantime, I'll enjoy getting the prime pick of the best uncommutable 4-day trips that Cleveland has to offer. Which is kind of like getting to pick the best turd in the catbox for your crap sandwich. Oooh!! That one has some string in it from when kitty tore up the Christmas presents!! I will enjoy pushing my body to new limits as I continue to train for my Half-Marathon. I will find the hottest coconut bra and grass skirt to wear to Buffett's concert and be happy, continuing life as I've known it these past 5 years.

And, I will always look forward to the next time I pop through an overcast layer on a snowy day to feel the welcome sunshine on my skin. Keep a-goin', friends.

Back in the saddle again.

Sweet Jesus, I tell ya..... that month off did me a WORLD of good! I'm currently on my second 4-day trip after my hiatus and I'm still beaming. People at work are so sweet. They all hug me and ask how my December was; I didn't know they'd even notice I was gone! Someone even said "welcome back, Delia" on either Ground or Ramp freq in Cleveland today (it always makes my day when someone says hello to me on the radio). Of course, that's all I talked about on facebook is how HAPPY I was not to have to think about airplanes, commuting, contract negotiations, yet another year without a raise, no captain upgrade in sight, crappy schedules, and hanging myself with the escape rope at an outstation because work was making me so miserable.

How did I spend that month if I wasn't working? I spent some quality time with Sweet Cheeks, read about how much work was driving everyone else crazy on Facebook, drove to TN visit my Mom, rescued a cat from the shelter, started training for a half-marathon, spent Christmas with my Dad in AR, drunkenly watched what is left of Dick Clark on New Year's, and cooked something gut-busting and olfactory-orgasm-inducing almost every night!

It was the BEST month of my life!!

Alas, all good things must come to an end. I couldn't help laughing about my first trip back to work. The first Big Snow of the season in Cleveland resulted in canceled flights and my first commuter clause ever. So, my 4-day trip ended up being a 3-day. I thought of it as a bonus night at home. The next day, I couldn't get into base because of maintenance delays - I almost commuter claused twice in a row! What was really funny, the "Big Snow" in Cleveland was a dud. In fact, the temps climbed up into the 50's by week's end. Thanks, La Nina!

Still, when I finally did get a ride, I got excited when I heard those engines spooling up on the pushback. By the time I got to Cleveland, I was almost giddy. It felt good to be back! Even though I'm utterly exhausted (I forgot how tired you get on these schedules due to cumulative sleep loss), I  have a renewed appreciation for what I do. There is absolutely nothing else on this planet I would rather do for a living than fly airplanes.

This morning we took off out of Buffalo, NY at 0600. It was long before the sun made its appearance, and the moon was high in the morning sky. It was so bright and the sky so clear, I almost needed the sun-shade! We flew over Lake Erie in the quiet, smooth air, and I tuned into my favorite AM radio station - 740 out of Toronto, Canada (they play oldies and even some big band stuff). During night time, that station comes in crystal clear from Cleveland all the way to Hartford. This time, Roy Orbison crooned "In Dreams" as the moonlight glistened on the lake like someone had sprinkled silver petals all over the water. The people below me slept, the people behind me slept. The captain was awake, but he was quiet. I sipped my coffee and enjoyed this beautiful, peaceful moment that so few people get to enjoy - reassured that I am on the path that life meant for me to tread, and humbly grateful for the view along the way.

So, on the eve of Go-home day, I just want to say how thankful I am to 1) Have a job 2) Have a job doing something that I love 3) Have a job doing something I love with the absolute BEST people in the world. You guys and gals are my family.

Admit it.... we really put the "fun" in "Dysfunctional" too, right?

Now, I don't mean to say that I've forgotten about all the crap-tastic things that come with working for the regionals or the airlines in general. All that stuff I mentioned in the first paragraph is still there, festering like management's baby-eating souls. No doubt, you'll see another blog returning to the bitch-fest and yearlong "Airing of Grievances" (no need to wait for Festivus for that.... it can be Festivus every day!!). However..... for now..... gratitude and Go-Home day keep me smiling.

Fly safe, everyone.

Christmas Cheer

I am writing this post from my father's house. I'm sitting on my bed with a bottle of cheap white wine, enjoying the buzz. NOT from the wine - but from the peak of the Holiday Season, from the gift of spending Christmas with my Dad this week, my Mom last week, and with Sweet Cheeks for the whole month of December.

Seriously, thank you to the powers that be, for granting me this glorious leave of absence from work. An entire month!! Free from the stress of commuting, free from thinking about airplanes, free from bitching about my job to strangers (I really hate when I catch myself doing that). I will miss the tiny paycheck, but the time with my loved ones is priceless. I am truly, humbly, eternally grateful for this gift.

Tonight, my dad, his friend Kelli, and Kelli's brother Scott all attended a Christmas Eve service. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been to church, but I managed to enter the building without getting struck by lightning. The highlight for me was the end, where we all sang "Silent Night" by candlelight. I sang the harmony part I remembered from Choir in college. As the verses went on, the piano accompanist played softer - until the last verse all you could hear is just the choir of voices. It was beyond beautiful.

Before I drift off to sleep tonight, I will continue what is my yearly ritual of not only reflection and gratitude, but I will take the time to walk outside and just...... listen. Be aware. Feel.

What I love about Christmas Eve is the ENERGY. Hear me out, I promise it's not just the wine talking here. Please..... I know that by the time I finish this post, most of you will have sugarplum fairies dancing in your heads..... but next year, do this. Walk outside, and just ...... feel. Feel the energy of the whole world thinking about TOMORROW. Feel the energy of millions of children across the globe joyfully anticipating what might greet them in the morning. Feel the excitement, worry, (maybe even dread, if in-laws are expected!) of countless people planning Christmas get-togethers tomorrow. Feel the energy of travel, of family drama, of excitement, even of sadness. Even people who don't celebrate Christmas are still thinking about Christmas - let's face it, most places are closed on Christmas. Also you can't turn on the tv or the radio without being reminded that it's Christmas!

This night practically hums with energy. I love it!!!

In fact, Christmas night also has energy, but it's more mellow. It's more reflective. It's the beginning of the end of the holiday season. It's the first few moments of groggy wakefulness after falling under the spell of Christmas merriment. By New Year's Day, it will be back-to-life, back-to-reality for the world. Back to the every day stressors that cause us to bitch to strangers about problems that seem overwhelming to us.

But for tonight? The energy is at its apex. There is joyful anticipation. There are memories to be made tomorrow. There are loved ones to hug and gifts to share. There is food to devour. There is the gift of being together. There is the gift of hope. There is the gift of life.

Walk outside with me tonight. Truth be told? I'm still looking for Santa Claus - I still believe in magic.

I wish every one of you the merriest of Christmases. For those of you who are away from the ones you love, remember that Christmas is a spirit, not a day. If you can't be at home on Christmas, celebrate when you get home.

Peace, love, and MAGIC for 2012.

Dude looks like a Lady

I must apologize for going so long between postings. It's just that the combination of being incredibly busy and the lack of anything blog-worthy coming my way has left me with a bit of writer's block. I did try a few weeks back to explain why I will never use a ladder to hang Christmas lights. I spent about 3 hours writing and editing a lengthy blog entry worthy of the Pulitzer prize (I'm a legend in my own mind, at least). However, when I tried to post a picture, I neglected to do the "just in case" highlight and copy...... when the computer froze and I lost everything I had just written. Naturally, it put me off blogging for a while.

However, recently I did something I'm not proud of. It was a genuine accident, a bone-headed move, and I feel incredibly guilty. So, if there is a Priest reading my blog (God help you if you are), Bless me Father, for I have sinned...... it's been..... years and years since my last confession:

Earlier in the month of October, I'm flying with one of my very favorite captains. We are scheduled to fly together throughout the month, flying the same trips week after week. This particular series of trips ends with a quick-turn from Cleveland, OH to New Orleans, LA. We stay in New Orleans just long enough to kick everyone off the plane, clean it, check our emails and Facebooks via our favorite portable electronic devices, load it up again and blast off towards Cleveland for the Go-Home leg.  The first time we do this trip, the Captain says to me, "Hmm... I wonder if the transvestite in ops is working today."

This question is a welcome distraction from my normal in-flight activity of staring out of the right cockpit window wondering if I'll ever get the chance to stare out of the left cockpit window. I turn to him and say, "Transvestite?"

He smiles and says, "Yeah. There's a transvestite who works in Ops. He was there last week; he might be working today."

I am immediately giddy. I loosen my seat belt straps, fold my legs together in the "Indian style" position and grin like a little girl at the thought of this news. I think, This is New Orleans! Of course there is a transvestite in ops! I'll bet she does this airline ops thing during the day and really shines on with her bad self on stage at night!!  I envision someone elegant, gorgeous, slender, fit, sexy, and charismatic - probably Latin, or maybe with the skin tone the beautiful golden caramel from having interracial parents. Someone who knows their way around a stripper's pole but possesses more talents than just being able to coax lonely drunk businessmen to "make it rain." Someone who could be charming and quiet one minute, while flirtatiously batting her eyelashes, yet still possess the skills to kick the living crap out of someone who really deserves it the next. A real firecracker!! I smile wider than I have the whole week, and beg the captain as I'm practically bouncing up and down in my seat and clapping my hands rapidly with anticipation, "oh please!!! May I please, please, please, please go into ops to get the paperwork when we get to New Orleans?!?!?"

I had to meet the man who had the balls to wear a dress to the airport!

We arrive and I skip gaily to Operations. To my indescribable disappointment I'm greeted by the ugliest woman I have ever seen..... with 5 o'clock shadow (it was noon)....aaaaaand a deep baritone voice without a touch of femininity. It was as if you took Jimmy Hoffa (the current President of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.... not the former one who was probably cut into pieces and buried under that athletic complex), and put him in a long brunette wig, dark red lipstick, plastic earrings, a blouse, a skirt, high heels, and the cheapest, gaudiest Lee press-on nails you can find.

I was staring eye-to-eye with this week's "Feature Creature" from peopleofwalmart.com.

I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I immediately looked down at the paperwork for the New Orleans - Cleveland flight, and said, "Is this it? Oh good, looks like it's gonna rain! See ya later!" I practically sprinted out of Ops.

Fast forward to 2 weeks later. Captain and I end our work week with the same turn, and I attempt to explain to our flight attendant about the Ops Transvestite and how disappointed I was. I was expecting RuPaul. Or better! Someone who belonged in a Lady Gaga video. I got something much worse. He didn't even TRY. He made Gene Hackman in The Birdacage look like Miss America. Even John Cleese did a better job! I was almost angry at him. Flight Attendant tried to come up with an excuse to go with me to Ops to get the paperwork, but it turned out not to be necessary.

After we parked the airplane, we sat there with the door closed while we waited for someone to come bring the jetbridge to the plane so that we could let the people off. It turns out that we were parked just outside of the door to Operations. And..... out of this door like an angry boxer comes the star of the show. I tap the Flight Attendant's arm and say, "Hey!!! There she is!!" She was dressed in the exact same outfit, with the same features (including boobs!), the nails and the 5 o'clock shadow, and mini-skirt! She has the build of a linebacker, and walks in exactly the same bullish manner. Then she sits down and enjoys her smoke.... with her legs spread as wide as they'll physically go, exposing her .... um.... stockings and drawers. Captain averts his eyes, mutters a brief "Oh God," and wishes to be stricken blind. Flight Attendant and I are craning our necks and squinting, trying desperately to see the prize.

"Do you think he tucks his junk between his legs or wears a cup?" I say. "I mean, how else would he have the courage to sit like that?" Captain has a look on his face like he desperately wishes he was somewhere else. Flight Attendant and I are practically peeing ourselves with glee as the Transvestite finishes her cigarette and clomps back inside.

Jetbridge driver arrives, and actually brings us the paperwork, so at least no one has to go get it this time. Thank God. When all the people are off, Capt. gets up to stretch his legs, I do the walkaround, and Flight Attendant cleans the cabin. When I return, I seem to think it would be a real good idea to pull up my playlist on my favorite portable electronic device and cue up Aerosmith's "Dude looks like a Lady." Then I decide it would be a real hoot if I played it over the PA system in the airplane. You know, because music makes everyone's job more enjoyable. No one was on the plane but Flight Attendant and I, so I thought, What could go wrong? I cue up the song and key the mic, giggle a little bit and do a little head bang......when after about 30 seconds into the song...... to my sheer utter horror...... I notice I am not transmitting over the PA system...... I'm transmitting on the OPS FREQUENCY!!!! I look up, sure enough, he/she is inside. Listening.

I shriek as if the microphone I'm holding has just morphed into an Anaconda and leap out of the cockpit as if it's on fire. I run to the galley and crouch real low while I wait for the Transvestite to storm up the jetbridge stairs and kick my ass. "What's wrong?" The Flight Attendant asks. I tell her what I did and she laughs hysterically. For a long time. Then Captain comes in, and he laughs while trying to reassure me between fits of laughter that maybe Transvestite was outside smoking again (I know he wasn't). I can't hide in the galley forever, so when it came time to jump back into my seat and start on the paperwork, I adjusted the seat very low; so low that my head would not be visible to anyone outside. Captain said after a few moments, "Ah, there he is....... he's looking at the plane...... he looks pissed!"

What was I supposed to do? Apologize? Tell him I didn't mean it? Explain that it was an accident? Not meant for his/her ears? Say something like, "Oh, it's okay, I dress like the opposite sex when I'm at work, too"? Alas, I did nothing. I really did feel horrible and beat myself up about it on the flight back to Cleveland. I honestly was not being mean spirited. If that's the kind of outfit the man feels comfortable wearing to work (be honest ladies..... we all know that shit is NOT comfortable.... but whatever), if he wants to let the banana and coconuts dangle in the breeze while he smokes cigarettes, if he wants to be frugal and wear the ugliest press-on nails, earrings, and bold dark red lipstick.....

He's probably one real tough sonofabitch!!!  I simultaneously applaud his courage and am shamed by my lack of it.

And this is why I can never go back to New Orleans again!

Mommy, where do trips come from?

It's Go-Home Day! Unfortunately, as we were on the approach to runway 6L, I witnessed the flight I wanted to catch - Waterski 3312 - take runway 6R for departure. My next attempt is the 8:45 pm flight, which leaves me with several hours to kill. I thought briefly about using this time wisely by calling the Crowne Plaza to come pick me up and getting a room so I could go for a run and take a shower lest I have to sit in the jumpseat. However, as I walked by Dunkin' Donuts I noticed there wasn't a line - and the coffee was calling my name! I figured I'd save the $$ for the crappy schedule I'm sure to get in October.

Seriously, it's like the people of Crew Planning get together every month for a delicious dinner, probably catered by some big name and then billed to the Company. I picture a ritual in which they hold hands, pray, recite the Company's Mission Statements with their hearts in their throats and a eyes welling up with tears of pride. They break the bread and share the wine. After the feast, they pick their teeth, put on our dreadful boarding music, pass around the bong, and try to one-up each other on how to make each base more miserable than they were the last month. Especially the bases that are composed of crewmembers who have been displaced from a base where they were really happy. They'll sit in a circle and let the creative juices flow. Someone takes a hit, "ffffffft........ cough cough.... all right.... How 'bout this?" EXHALE....... "Let's give them a 0225 show on a Sunday (because everyone knows it's next to impossible to commute on a Saturday), make them fly 7 legs, include a 4:55 minute sit somewhere that doesn't have a crew room, follow that with a reduced-rest overnight with one leg the next day, and top it off with a 36 hour overnight somewhere in a cow pasture so there's nothing to do, and THEN, we end the trip too late for them to catch a flight home!!"

This elicits a round of applause and clinking of shotglasses filled with top-shelf tequila as they continue their brainstorm of trip-pairing misery. After their work is done, they play Naked Twister and send the one no one can stand to go get twinkies from the convenience store. The first person to fall asleep awakens to find a video of himself on YouTube getting duct taped to the couch. His friends fart bare-assed in his face as he wets his pants because someone put his hand in a bowl of warm water. As dawn breaks the next day, they wipe their sleepy eyes, brew coffee as they shake off their buzz, exchange hugs, and watch the facebook news feed in breathless anticipation for the hilarious reactions of the pilots as they see what's in store for them.

I'm sorry, this month's bid is still fresh in my mind. Just when you think the trips can't get any worse, they do.

This will all be worth it one day. I really do believe that. One day, I won't be living paycheck to paycheck. One day, I'll be doing the long-haul stuff. One day, I will make this dream work. One day.

But for now, I find happiness in the opportunity to work with the best people in the world. I like that every traveler I encounter has a story. I find happiness in little things that no other job in the world would offer me.

I watched the sunrise this morning through ever-changing pastels, the night sky going from black to blue just before the first rays of sunlight break through the pink, purple, and orange clouds..... sipping my coffee and enjoying a completely smooth ride as even ATC is quiet..... that makes "paying your dues" not so bad.

Crew Planning..... bring it on. I choose to be happy.