Strikefinder
Captain Backfire
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2002
- Posts
- 114
What a night. Seems like it was 300 broken everywhere I went, like some sort of Charlie Brown like cloud followed me from place to place. Yeah, I know, it's probably more representative of *any* low pressure system, but I like to think that mother nature schedules its rages around my flight schedule. 
So I'm up at Signature in BWI waiting for some "go" juice and munching on the free brownies when a group of DHL pilots come in. I guess the DHL guys get a ride out to wherever they're parked with the Signature van, since I see them all the time when I'm waiting around at Signature. Historically, as with most pilots I try to strike up conversation with around there, the DHL folks haven't given much attention to my freight trash self, but one of the guys from this group tonight actually started talking to me. He asked what I was flying, and when I pointed to the aircraft parked in front with four layers of paint shining through and said with a smile "that mighty Baron there," his response, as I've heard once or twice before, was this:
"You'll think that that was the most fun flying you've ever had someday."
I'm sure we've all heard that statement, or some variety of it, before. Probably many times. I don't know who this particular gentleman was, and I do genuinely appreciate his taking notice of me (in absence of so many HR departments with a real job in their hands). I want to make it clear that despite what I'm about to say, I know he meant well and as a human being I'd put this guy at the top, because looking forward to working with guys like him, who are personable, cheerful, and social is one of the reasons I keep beating myself silly in this business.
However, his statement, however well intentioned, made me think about a lot of things, including what I wanted to tell the generation that came after me--what to tell the freight dogs, the flight instructors, the banner towers and glider pullers and what have you. I came to this conclusion: I hope he's full of it.
You see, I don't know about the rest of you, but this "great" part of my life has pretty well bit the big one. I've been chasing a job around the country for the past two years; I've lived in seven locations in five states, and I'm moving again this weekend. If I get hired by a regional, I'll move again. I haven't seen my friends or most of my family in eons, I live on peanut butter sandwiches and hamburgers from McDonalds on the good days. I hand-fly aircraft that were manufactured twenty years before I was born and are riddled with gremlins through terrible weather by myself to get home at midnight when anyone I might want to hang around with is already in bed. I can't hold down a relationship to save my life, since I have nothing to offer but a paper license as elaborate as a first grade art project as my collateral for a future.
I sound like I'm complaining, but it misses my point. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to do the things I've done. I'm glad I've lived all over the country, flown junky aircraft, and lived in relative poverty, because the experience has made me stronger. It has made me appreciate things I once took for granted, like my friends and family. It has taught me discipline and respect for those who came before me. And though there are days where I really get frustrated with what I do, there are enough occasions where I feel so fortunate to see and experience the things in the vertical world that it will keep me going until the next big step.
So what's the reason for this ramble? If you happen to be one of those guys who's been lucky enough to walk down my road and then make it to the next realm, where you may be plodding along in a Hawker or an ERJ, then tell the next struggling pilot like me you come across the truth. That it's f'n cool. That it kicks a$$. That it's worth every ounce of sacrifice and dedication that we're putting in to get there. That's what we all need to hear to stay motivated. I know that the union contracts and the poor management and the rowdy passengers put a sour note on it all, but I still want to know that this road leads somewhere better than here. And you folks can give that motivation by just telling me and the rest of us that it gets better every step of the way!
Anyhow, I'll get off my pedistal. Thinking about this has made me regain some motivation that I've been lacking lately, though, and I thought maybe you all could share in it. To those who are there, I hope I'll be joining you soon, and to those who haven't made it, let's hope we're in class together!
So I'm up at Signature in BWI waiting for some "go" juice and munching on the free brownies when a group of DHL pilots come in. I guess the DHL guys get a ride out to wherever they're parked with the Signature van, since I see them all the time when I'm waiting around at Signature. Historically, as with most pilots I try to strike up conversation with around there, the DHL folks haven't given much attention to my freight trash self, but one of the guys from this group tonight actually started talking to me. He asked what I was flying, and when I pointed to the aircraft parked in front with four layers of paint shining through and said with a smile "that mighty Baron there," his response, as I've heard once or twice before, was this:
"You'll think that that was the most fun flying you've ever had someday."
I'm sure we've all heard that statement, or some variety of it, before. Probably many times. I don't know who this particular gentleman was, and I do genuinely appreciate his taking notice of me (in absence of so many HR departments with a real job in their hands). I want to make it clear that despite what I'm about to say, I know he meant well and as a human being I'd put this guy at the top, because looking forward to working with guys like him, who are personable, cheerful, and social is one of the reasons I keep beating myself silly in this business.
However, his statement, however well intentioned, made me think about a lot of things, including what I wanted to tell the generation that came after me--what to tell the freight dogs, the flight instructors, the banner towers and glider pullers and what have you. I came to this conclusion: I hope he's full of it.
You see, I don't know about the rest of you, but this "great" part of my life has pretty well bit the big one. I've been chasing a job around the country for the past two years; I've lived in seven locations in five states, and I'm moving again this weekend. If I get hired by a regional, I'll move again. I haven't seen my friends or most of my family in eons, I live on peanut butter sandwiches and hamburgers from McDonalds on the good days. I hand-fly aircraft that were manufactured twenty years before I was born and are riddled with gremlins through terrible weather by myself to get home at midnight when anyone I might want to hang around with is already in bed. I can't hold down a relationship to save my life, since I have nothing to offer but a paper license as elaborate as a first grade art project as my collateral for a future.
I sound like I'm complaining, but it misses my point. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to do the things I've done. I'm glad I've lived all over the country, flown junky aircraft, and lived in relative poverty, because the experience has made me stronger. It has made me appreciate things I once took for granted, like my friends and family. It has taught me discipline and respect for those who came before me. And though there are days where I really get frustrated with what I do, there are enough occasions where I feel so fortunate to see and experience the things in the vertical world that it will keep me going until the next big step.
So what's the reason for this ramble? If you happen to be one of those guys who's been lucky enough to walk down my road and then make it to the next realm, where you may be plodding along in a Hawker or an ERJ, then tell the next struggling pilot like me you come across the truth. That it's f'n cool. That it kicks a$$. That it's worth every ounce of sacrifice and dedication that we're putting in to get there. That's what we all need to hear to stay motivated. I know that the union contracts and the poor management and the rowdy passengers put a sour note on it all, but I still want to know that this road leads somewhere better than here. And you folks can give that motivation by just telling me and the rest of us that it gets better every step of the way!
Anyhow, I'll get off my pedistal. Thinking about this has made me regain some motivation that I've been lacking lately, though, and I thought maybe you all could share in it. To those who are there, I hope I'll be joining you soon, and to those who haven't made it, let's hope we're in class together!
