Chapter 11

Cindy’s turn:

As my Dan says, “How fortuitous.”

We needed a new pilot for the aviation biz. They’re out there, waiting. You do the normal job searches, sift through applications, reduce the stack, interview, finally select, and quite often get one who, while competent, is waiting for the call to an airline slot.

Or you find a sad girl at an airport in Dallas.

That’s Katie Bridges. We dragged–not really, she came with us willingly–back to Alabama with us, spent the night with me and Dan, preparatory to going to Birmingham and meeting the real crew of 3S Transport.

Katie, again:

I think the word is “stilted”. Yup, that’s it, and that’s what I saw at the one Mensa meeting I attended, years ago. You know––when people are working too hard at being sociable. Last night’s festivities were NOT “stilted.” (Oh, the Mensa thing? I didn’t join–I decided a Mensa card and $5 would maybe buy a latte at Starbucks.)

Hmmph. I’m an early riser, so I looked over at the clock–6:30am. Looked around–NICE room, clean, smells good. Another sniff–bacon aroma, wafting up the stairs. Haven’t slept this good in weeks!

Shower, brush teeth, put on khaki slacks and a polo shirt–looks something like “uniform of the day” around here. Sneakers. I hear pans rattling. OK, let’s go see about the coffee. Downstairs, into the kitchen.

Dan glanced up and said, “Mornin’, Katie. Pour yourself some coffee. Waffles will be ready in a few minutes.”

Cindy was loading a plate with bacon, and smiled. She said, “It’s waffles, bacon, and orange juice this morning. GOOD waffles–got some apple chunks and pecan bits in ‘em. Maybe you’ll like ‘em.”

I took a sip of coffee. Just like everything else around here, it’s gourmet. Dan said, “I’m glad you’re here, Katie. If it was just me and Cindy, it’d be more oatmeal this morning. It’s a rough life, around here. But we always have enough to eat, although I AM a little thin.”

Cindy said, “Dan, you KNOW I’m just trying to keep you healthy. Well, parts of you, anyway.”

I chuckled, and Dan said, “Katie, pay attention to the abuse I have to endure around here. It’s humiliating to me, honestly.”

Managed (somehow) to keep from snorting coffee through my nose.

Dan loaded a plate with waffles–delicious! Let’s see, butter, syrup, Lord! On top of all the pork ribs and potato salad from last night, I’m gonna have to watch my weight around here.

Cindy’s phone buzzed, and she tapped a reply. She said, “Katie, let me give you the update. We need to get the dishes washed up, then load up your gear and head over to the hangars. We need to collect Mandy, and head east.”

“There’s a little airfield just south of Birmingham–a little town called Calera, and they have the Shelby County Airport. Mandy’s going to take possession of her first airplane there, and you get to act as her “safety pilot”. You guys can follow me up to Birmingham. We’ll leave the 180 there, since it needs a new engine and all that stuff.”

Mmm-kay. Got all that done, rode a golf cart over to the airfield, where we got into an old tail-dragger. However, updated avionics in the panel, and Cindy put me in the right seat, explaining about tail-dragger stuff. She said, “We need to get you qualified.” She’s right.

On the way over to Shelby, Cindy said, “Katie, you’re going to interview with Don Matzke today, and he’s our chief pilot. If all goes well, you may want to just stay there, because I’m pretty sure he has a Citation charter tomorrow morning.”

Watched a YOUNG Mandy take possession of a very nice 182. Why? “Because I’m a girl, and girls around here are supposed to have airplanes.” Stated as something that should be obvious. This is nearly a different world, I think.

It gets worse: Everything they do is “right now”, and I’m having trouble keeping up. Their thinking is faster than mine, as are their actions. They just look at each other, raise an eyebrow or nod, and start moving. Today it was about flying, first over to the little Shelby airport, where Mandy took possession of her airplane, then up to Birmingham following Cindy. FYI, Mandy did NOT need a safety pilot.

Then an exercise in watching an (nearly choreographed) operation of a highly experienced crew of mechanics dealing with several Citations, while (yet another) batch of guys were loading cargo onto a PC-12. Lord, these people change airplanes like other people change socks. As needed.

Met Don and Teresa Matzke, and Geno Haugen. Arranged to go home with Teresa for two important things: Laundry facilities (much needed by me) and “girl talk”, wherein I discovered that Cindy (as I was beginning to suspect) was the ultimate authority of this operation.

You know what I didn’t see? No cheap toupees, no gold chains, and no bleached blondes with silicone tits. No short skirts, none of that. I’ve been a charter pilot and I’ve seen plenty of that stuff, but here? No “status” stuff at all–just people doing work and having fun with each other.

When I started college, I started in aeronautical engineering. Two years later I was flying, and loved it, but noticed that it was a BUSINESS, so I switched to biz administration. And here, Teresa is an accountant. Hmm. Let’s see–successful biz already. This place is just “comfortable”. Fits like a favorite pair of old shoes.

You know what else? I get a “signing bonus”. Cindy said, “We decided you get a $10K signing bonus.” I reported it to Teresa, who laughed and said, “Katie, you have just encountered the “Imperial WE.” When Cindy says “We decided”, it means SHE decided. She can do that, since she either owns or controls just about 2/3 of this outfit.”

Had to ask, “But what about Geno? I would think that the president would get a say in it.”

Teresa chuckled and said, “Katie, who do you think hired Geno to be the prez? And you might ask her about her first trip with him.”

I raised an eyebrow, and before I could ask, Teresa said, “Cindy rarely tells us what to do. She looks at a situation and says something like, “Here’s what we could do.” She explains what she’s thinking, then leaves US to do it. She’s almost always right, and she always has us making some serious money. We kinda like that.”

I think I’m going to enjoy working here.

Jeremy’s turn:

I’ve been carrying a lot of accumulated leave time with the army for years. Today I’m burning one of those days. My superior would’ve just let me take a day off without the leave, but they max out at sixty and I accumulate thirty days a year. I won’t waste one.

So on a Tuesday morning, not quite the “Zero-dark-thirty” of legend, but plenty early still, I park my SUV beside the hangar at the 3Sigma airfield and wait a minute for the headlights of a four-seater ATV to pull up with the love of my life in it.

I got out of the car and caught her around the waist when she got into range. Happy squeal. Leap. Legs around my waist. Kiss. Gooooood kiss!

Athletic, young and beautiful and I don’t know how much more patience I can stand. Ever since the improbable happened and we decided to investigate a relationship, I have sworn off sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong–I’m pretty good looking, mid-range successful, I’d be a good catch, even for a night or a weekend or a week at a resort. I’ve done all those in my sordid past.

But the first time Mandy returned a look I didn’t even know I was giving, something in my head or somewhere clicked and said ‘Buddy boy, THAT one’s worth whatever it takes.’

She claims virginity. I claim late onset celibacy.

“Married,” she says.

“When?” I beg.

Smile. “In due time.” Kiss. “You got this, baby!”

‘This’ being the day I take the oral exam and flight test for my private pilot license.

She was still wrapped around me, her face level with mine. “I’m thinking I’d rather have THIS!” I smiled, pulling her hard against me.

Squeal! “Stop that, sir, or I will rape you in the pilot’s lounge.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Smile. “Just a little tease, baby.”

Okay, Jeremy, you can think yourself past this erection. Opening the hangar door and tugging a ton of eighty year old airplane out into the open will get rid of the obvious effect of hugging on a nubile teen redhead.

Together we conducted the preflight inspection, then I kissed her and climbed in. I buckled up, did the cockpit checks, then, mags off, mixture at cut-off, hit the starter to get a couple of revolutions of the prop, checking for hydrostatic lock, then mixture rich, mags on ‘both’ and hit it. Cough, couple of puffs of blue smoke, and then the old Jacobs radial was doing pocketa-pocketa.

She was sitting in the ATV as I flew down the runway and took off. I made a lazy climbing turn and headed south to Mobile two and a half hours away. Clouds today were high, thin cirrus, maybe twenty percent cover. My jacket served well in the cool air of the morning and when I called Mobile Approach Control, any thoughts of chill disappeared.

Approach Control passed me off to the tower and the tower got me on the ground and passed me over to ground control. I taxied to the transient line at the FBO and by the time my feet hit the ground I saw a late middle-aged guy coming out of the FBO, laughing.