Wednesday, July 27, 2005

But They're All Hip

Howdy. I hope all is well with everyone. I’m still unemployed in St. Louis. Yesterday, I googled the airline whose hiring pool I supposedly occupy. In doing so, I discovered they have suspended flights in New Mexico because they haven’t been paid by one of the cities they service. Needless to say, I’m not expecting a call from them this week.

My ambitions have sort of turned a corner. I realized that I could manage a Kwik Shop and make more than what I would as a pilot for a regional airline. This epiphany was extremely liberating. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my immediate financial situation in the slightest. What’s more, with my background in sales and aviation (not to mention accomplishments related to peripheral interests and hobbies), there are a lot of things I could do where I would earn significantly more than I would as a pilot. Also, if I ever want to go back to flying full time, I’ll be in exactly the same spot I am now: needing multi time. After obtaining the twin time, I’d be current again and ready to go. Frankly, I don’t miss flying every day. Sad to say, but it’s true.

One of the more larkish things I’ve done lately was to apply to be a delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross. If by some miracle I were to be accepted, I would be responsible for interviewing prisoners of war and inspecting the prisons in which they are held. My friend, Erica, having heard of the gig by virtue of her being goddess of foreign affairs and general intellectual diva, encouraged me to apply. The only stated requirements are proficiency in French and English, willingness to travel, and passion for human rights.

Completing the application process was a fantastic reawakening of a version of myself that I had all but forgotten. In rewriting my resume to include all the warm fuzzy things I’ve done for others (had to dig a bit to remember those…) and in writing the “Why I Want To Be A Delegate” cover letter, I was forced to remember the version of me with foreign language and interpersonal skills; the version who thought maybe he could do something with a direct human impact.

Thus was born my humanitarian alter ego. That’s how I’ve taken to viewing myself; as a collection of identities, only one of which will survive. Who will it be? Adam the pilot? Adam the aerospace sales big shot? Adam the international humanitarian aid worker? Adam the guitar shop guy? Adam the barista? Adam the street musician?

It's as if each of these identities is one of Shrodinger's Cats, locked in an atomic death box (or a basement), alive and dead at the same time, until fate has made its choice and the box is opened.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Culminations

Howdy. So all of my studying and simulator preparation was for naught with regards to Airnet. I totally choked on the simulator check. I won’t bore you with details of fire and twisted metal, but they didn’t waste any time in sending me an “I don’t even think we could train you after the way you flew that simulator!!” letter. I still can’t believe how badly it went. Maybe it was just delusions of grandeur, but I really thought I had prepared myself well. I mean, ALL I’d done for almost two weeks was study and prep in the simulator. I wouldn’t have hired me either, though. That’s the tough part. I know how poorly I performed. What a blow.

A day after returning from Ohio, glad to have the distraction from the Airnet debacle, I caught a flight to DFW. The principal reason for the trip was to go to Las Cruces, NM for another job interview, but my best friend, Todd and his wife Cynthia had just had a baby boy, in Fort Hood, TX and my friends Josh and Maria from Panther City Coffee in Fort Worth were getting married. So all things considered, Texas was the place to be last weekend!

Seeing the offspring of a lifelong friend could only be described as life altering. Little Richard (the baby, not the singer) was truly beautiful. All the clichés about babies came to my heart and mind as if I were the first one to think and feel them. All the potential I was holding in my arms! All the beautiful innocence of that child! He doesn’t know the difference between rich and poor, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, or Christian and Muslim. He gave me hope.

After a couple of days of oogling the mini-Todd, I headed back up to Fort worth for the wedding. I should say that Josh and Maria are not your average couple. They are way cooler than average. And as such, their wedding was way cooler than average. I just saw an editorial in the paper today about how insane and commercialized weddings have gotten and I laughed. I laughed because I’d just been to a wedding that was beautiful not for the flower arrangements or the bridesmaids dresses or the country club reception, but for the evidence of the purest love that can exist between two people. Perhaps it was because the ceremony took place in the loft of a coffee shop, or because the groom was wearing flip flops that all there was to witness was the event of two people proclaiming their rock solid, eternal love for each other. And that was way more beautiful than some prefab fairy tale concoction. It gave me hope as well.

Soon after the wedding, I was off to the Las Cruces for my other interview. I was the only passenger on the flight (which was operated by the company with which I was about to interview) from Albuquerque to Las Cruces. The captain and FO were very friendly, and even gave me a headset so we could all chat en-route. After getting the low down from the pilots, I was actually still excited about the prospect of working there. Lots of pilots are grumpy and bitter, but these guys actually seemed to enjoy their jobs. In my view, that says a lot. The chief pilot, who would be conducting the interview, called up while we were cruising along and, not knowing that I had a headset, asked the captain to “feel [me] out.” He was speechless when informed that I was listening in, except to say that he would be arriving a couple hours after we would.

After traveling all day, and sitting around for a couple hours waiting at the airport, I finally met with Bill, the chief pilot at about 5:30 pm. The offices were in an un-air-conditioned hangar and subdivided by plastic sheeting and 2x2’s. I felt like I was in a military field hospital. I think he asked me three questions…

“Do I have your resume?”
“What Airplanes have you flown?” and,
“What are your career goals?”

It was the only job interview I’ve ever had where the interviewer groaned and took off his cowboy boots in the middle and asked me to step out so he could change clothes. It was really damned hot in that hangar, though.

After he changed and joined me in the lounge out by the swamp coolers, I asked a couple questions that hadn’t been answered by the pilots. He offered me the number six spot in their hiring pool, which means that they’re not hiring me right now, but as openings become available, I’ll supposedly be the sixth pilot they call.

Better than nothing, I guess.