Confidence
Shelley J Alongi

 

A strong crosswind gusted as Andrew walked across the low wing of the C310 and stepped down to the ground, sighing with relief. The pilot landing before him hadn’t been as fortunate as he, his smaller plane skidding across the runway in the worsening conditions. Andrew had circled for another approach till the c150 was towed away. Finally, he made a crosswind landing, and now despite his twenty years of experience, was
Relieved to be safely on the ground.
He knelt beside the plane securing the tie-downs on one side, and moved quickly to the other side repeating the process. He got to his feet, exhaling the tension of the last half-hour. He caught sight of a shadow from the corner
Of his eye. As he walked toward the pilot’s side of the plane, he noticed the FAA inspector standing at his door. The wind gusted suddenly. Andrew put
His hand on the plane as if to steady it, though the C310’s frame did seem sturdy enough.

“Easy there,” he said quietly under his breath, as if the intricate frame and all its moving parts were some living, breathing thing. He looked up as the
Other pilot approached.

“Hello, Mr. Crance,” said the tall, curly-headed middle-aged FAA inspector in a slow, lazy drawl, “Your aircraft has been selected for ramp check.”

Andrew looked at the man in surprise, and then became easy in his stance.

“Let me install the gust lock first,” he said genially, “this wind is dangerous.”

“Sure,” replied the pilot, stepping back and letting Andrew secure the controls against the wind.

Andrew reached into the glove box and pulled out a sheath of documents. He walked across the wing again, approached the pilot.

“Is everything alright?” Andrew wanted to know as he extended the sheath to the inspector. “The plane just passed it’s annual.”

“No troubles,” assured the inspector, “just a random check for documents.”

“That was a nice landing,” the inspector said, checking Andrew’s license, and checking the sectional chart. “Kind of feel sorry for the guy before you,” he continued handing Andrew back his documents, “but he’s alright.”

“Good. He’s lucky he wasn’t injured. Weather’s tricky today. I guess I was just lucky.”

“Cool hands,” the FAA inspector complimented getting ready to walk back toward the shelter of the airport office, “bigger plane, too. Have a good day, Mr. Crance.”

He shook the pilot’s hand and gestured toward Andrew’s waiting passenger. “Take care of that plane,” he smiled, “and yourself, too. Nice job.”

Andrew caught up with his passenger as they made their way to the airport office. The wind tore at the clipboard in his hand.

“Everything okay?” asked Michael Cross, easily falling into step beside Andrew. Both men hurried to escape the rapidly deteriorating weather.

“Sure,” Andrew answered, adjusting his glasses, “just a routine inspection for documents. I’m good to go.”

John Foster met them in the office as they entered, nodding in greeting to Michael Cross.

“Well, Andrew! I see you got the plane and Michael through that nastiness! Sort of cropped out of nowhere, it did! I guess we’re in for some pretty heavy activity here. Yours is the last flight in or out for a while! So we can all go home and batten down the hatches! Even the heavies are grounded!”

Andrew ran Michael’s credit card and gave him the receipt. Michael shook hands with the pilot.

“See you next time?”

“Sure,” said the passenger, heading toward the door to climb into a waiting taxi, “the next time they require my presence at the AMA convention I’ll call you! I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Andrew chuckled, Michael’s confidence reassuring after the last turbulent leg of the flight. He collapsed into a chair, weary and relieved.

“Get that plane into the hangar,” Andrew instructed urgently, “she’ll not take much more of that pounding.”

“I’ll take care of it,” assured the owner of the ABC Charter Company. He sat down and poured a cup of strong, black coffee for Andrew.

“I see the FAA got you. That was kind of sudden.”

“It’s alright,” assured Andrew, taking the welcome cup from John’s hand, “I was ready.”

John got up and suddenly headed for the door as the wind gusted again. As he exited the office to put the plane into the hangar, he looked back and caught his pilot’s eye.

“Michael was lucky and he knows it. Especially since he was afraid to fly before you got hold of him.”

Andrew nodded, knowing what John meant. Michael Cross hadn’t always been so sure he wanted to be in a small plane. The first time he had met Michael cross had been six months after the birth of Rachel when he had been hired to fly some passengers to the AMA convention. He had bounced cheerfully into the small airport office and walked to a chair where a petite woman with curly hair sat with her hand out.

“Hello,” he smiled. “I’m your pilot.”

“Yes, I know. So,” she said, glancing quickly at him as if calling to mind an image from memory, “this is what you look like when you’re at work.”

Andrew stood surprised for a moment, uncertainty registering in his brown eyes.

“You probably don’t remember me,” she said, smiling. “My name is Carmen.”

“Should I remember you?” he said, easily. “Have you flown with us before? I do a lot of charter flights so I don’t always remember everyone.”

“No, I haven’t flown with you yet,” said Carmen, “we’re waiting for my other two colleagues. You’re taking us to a medical conference.”

Seeing Andrew’s mounting confusion, John left his desk and came to rescue the bewildered pilot.

“Andrew was pretty attached to his wife when you saw him. She was giving him a daughter.”

“Yes, I know,” smiled the nurse, “I helped her out with that task. I was trying to help him stay calm.” She addressed her next sentences to the pilot. “I asked you what you did for a living and you said you were a pilot. So I said well imagine this is a small plane and not a baby and you have to safely land this plane in bad weather. Do pilots do that?” I asked you that.

“Sure enough,” Andrew chuckled, “sometimes we’re forced to it. Not something we like to do, though.”

“Yes, that’s what you told me as your wife was in labor so I said well use those skills now.”

“And did I do that?”

“Yes, you did. I asked you if you flew for the airlines. You said no. You said you did charter flights and I said it might be fun to charter a plane and
So you gave me your card. Well,” she smiled taking in her friends with her lively gaze, “here we are!”

Andrew sized up the two passengers with an experienced glance. The man sat stiffly in the chair clenching his hands. Andrew took a seat next to him.

“Are you a bit nervous?” He asked, kindly.

The man nodded.

“I’ve never been in a small plane before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“A little uncomfortable,” the man admitted. “I’m an RN and I’m the one who might need the bag.”

“We can help out,” said the pilot. He turned to encompass the group.

“I still have to preflight the plane just to make sure everything is in working order. It’s standard. We always do it. Want to come?”

The women decided they had to visit the girls’ room leaving Andrew alone with their colleague.

“Why don’t you come with me,” he eased the man into feeling comfortable. “If you’re a bit nervous this can help. You can come with me and take a look at the plane, know where you’re going to be sitting, see how it works.”

The younger man’s face seemed to relax. Andrew got up, waved him to his feet.

 “What’s your name?” Andrew asked as they headed out of the doors and to the flight line. The little plane they would be flying today sat waiting for Andrew’s attention. He went up to it, stroked it as if it were a living thing. He walked around it checking for nicks in the propellers, moving the flaps on the wings, kicked the tires, climbed up onto the wing and checked the fuel. The man watched the pilot inspect the plane. Andrew jumped down and caught Michael’s eye.

“You okay? We always do this. We don’t want to have to make any off-field landings, you know. That would not make our day!”

Half an hour later, preflight finished, the girls ready to join him, Michael Cross seemed much more comfortable.

“Why don’t you sit with me,” suggested Andrew, “you can help me fly the plane!”

The two women clambered into the back of the plane, followed by Andrew and Michael who harnessed himself into the right seat.

“Everyone okay?” Andrew asked cheerily. He made sure to wink mischievously at his male passenger.

“If something goes wrong, just hit that there and tell them to come and get us!”

Everyone laughed a little nervously. Andrew checked on Michael’s condition again. He noted that Michael seemed much more relaxed.

“If you’re feeling sick, just put your head back, close your eyes, and relax. Don’t worry,” he assured, “I’ve done this lots of times!”

Andrew harnessed himself into the intimate familiarity of his little plane. He adjusted his headset microphone and spoke calmly to ATC. An hour later when they landed, everyone was fine. They got out and the man shook Andrew’s hand.

“Hey, thanks for the explanations. They really helped. You’re flying us back aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sure am. Have to go fuel up this baby and get some lunch and just make sure she’s in tip top condition.”

Now, six months later, Michael Cross was an experienced passenger. He wanted no other pilot. Andrew had to smile a bit as he finished his coffee and prepared to drive home in the approaching storm. The man whose experienced ranged from flying very small single-engine planes to more complicated aircraft, the
Man who put in his hours teaching would-be pilots had to shake his head in satisfaction as he negotiated the roads home to his wife and child. Even after
Twenty years of this business, through the financial feast and penury, through the loads of paperwork and the regulations, he still felt a sense of accomplishment when someone became less afraid of flying with him. Yes, he thought as he turned down the quiet little street, the houses closed up against the storm, his work could be very rewarding.

 

 

Copyright © 2003 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"