harrisonjones

I knew it would happen sooner or later and it did. I checked in and declared myself fit for my three day MD-88 trip and saw a dainty, feminine signature in the first officer’s slot. Oh man; any chance of a nice relaxing rotation just evaporated like contrails at low altitude. Now I have to comport myself differently than I would with my normal sarcastic and profane copilot. Okay, I admit, her handwriting on the sign in sheet is much neater than mine, but this isn’t a competition. Right? 

She shows up with a nice smile and a firm handshake and we talk about airplanes and weather and families. So far, so good. She doesn’t roll her eyes and sigh when I ask for the preflight checklist, like my normal sarcastic and profane copilot does.  Her first landing is better than my first landing, but I had more cross wind. OKAY? Her second landing is better than my second landing. I’ve just got a lot on my mind today and feel frustrated. OKAY?  

Layover at last and the entire crew meets in the hotel lounge for de-briefing. I look longingly at the pool table and am disappointed that I will not be able to take money from my normal sarcastic and profane copilot. At last, I catch a break! She walks in, orders a beer and asks if I play pool. The flight attendants, three sarcastic and profane ladies, gather to cheerlead. One hour later my wallet is forty dollars lighter and I go to my room to sulk and pout. OKAY? 

The second day she finally makes a mistake. She drops her ink pen and utters a profanity. I can proudly say that I have never dropped my ink pen in the cockpit. So there! The third day, we are notified that the FAA will ride the jump seat on the last leg. Someone named Chris. By now I don’t have to tell you that Chris is a female air traffic controller. The flight attendants bring Chris to the cockpit to introduce her and I’m surrounded by five women. I ask the flight attendant how many passengers we have and she smiles and says, “139 and they’re all  women. I think they’re in town for a billiards competition.” That’s not funny. I’m not frustrated. No, I’m really not. OKAY? 

 I’m going to go home and chain saw something. Or maybe I’ll get a pedicure.