Flying Too Close to the Sun George Jehn (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

earlier, like during the sixties, or there was a time machine to transport me back to when there was still lots of hope. From what I’ve read and seen on TV just about everything in aviation we take for granted today was new back then. But for pilots it was asshole Jimmy Carter’s airline deregulation, when pilots got royally screwed by big business and the government officials they bought and when our high expectations took an immediate nosedive. The idiots took an excellent operating system and supposedly fixed it when it wasn’t broken. Despite the bullshit hype it only succeeded in destroying airline employees’ job security. Hell, I haven’t had a raise in over three years. Some of us tried to warn our colleagues airline deregulation wasn’t the route to fly but weren’t successful in convincing the pilot union hierarchy to go to the trenches with a nationwide stoppage of service. So the sixties’ peace and love came to a screeching halt, taken over by the current sorry state where the airline landscape is nastier and littered with lots of corpses. Used to be when you got a pilot job with a major airline, it was for life. But one stroke of the pen changed it. Now, job security is history so management and the investment banker pricks could fill their pockets and buy their big fucking mansions. Meanwhile we’re always afraid, wondering if our airline, our jobs, our pensions and our lives are going down the shitter next. I also liked the world better, pre-9/11 before all the security crap came along and we had to bend over each day in front of the passengers so some previously-unemployed TSA goon can look for a pair of killer sewing scissors.”

Her comments made Erik picture where his life was heading and he didn’t like the snapshot he envisioned. He wanted to burn off his fear, so he added, “In every other business, hell, in life, you get what you pay for. But for some unknown reason the passengers think airlines are different because they believe the FAA is looking out for them, when the FAA could give a shit less.” He took another swig of beer. “I know what you’re talking about when it comes to money or lack thereof,” he almost involuntarily heard himself saying, his thoughts swimming with the Heineken in his gut. Why was he was telling her this? Was she sister confessor or was it bottle courage? Or, maybe she had something to offer, a way out?

“You couldn’t. You’re too young—”

“You might think so, but the post-9/11 pilot layoffs were followed by lots of airline bankruptcies. United, Delta, Northwest, US Airways, are just a few. Shuttle Air finally came through, but only after I sent out applications to every American and foreign airline, along with hefty rip-off application fees. Then there’s another personal problem…”

“What’s that?” a probing Christina asked.

“Like you, I worked my butt off building the flight hours needed to land this job. But the flight instructing pay was so low I barely earned enough money to get by, not to mention repaying a debt—”

“What debt?” Where might this be headed?

To avert her intense stare he looked at her through the green bottle. “I simply kept pushing it aside, paying off a measly fifty or a hundred bucks a month which was all I could afford. Hell, I still owe all of it and the interest just keeps pilin’ on.” After taking another hit of truth serum he looked directly into those sparkling eyes now glowing electric blue in anticipation. “I just kept putting it off, so when Shuttle Air hired me I was elated. They must’ve run a credit check, meaning they had to know about it but for some reason it didn’t matter.” Erik recalled the guy who interviewed him seemed to be enamored by his good looks. “I figured a forty grand debt only made me a typical fiscally-challenged young American male. I recently spoke with the bank manager where I borrowed the money for my flying lessons—”

“You borrowed the dough for your pilot licenses?”

“Yup, I told this banker asshole when I landed this job I’d be making good money in just under a year. Our first year pay sucks, only about twenty seven grand. Hell, by the time taxes and social security are taken out there’s nothin’. I swore to him next year I’d start repaying every last dime and mentioned my extra weekend flight instructing job that’s off the books. I’m even living at home to save money, which I hate because I have to pay my parents rent and put up with their crap.”

“So what happened?”

“This banker prick was adamant and said they weren’t gonna give me another year, said they’d be calculating a full settlement timetable and if I didn’t pay they’d go to my employer.” His barstool squeaked loudly as he swiveled it to face Christina, the joy gone from his eyes. “To make things even worse the old man raised my rent and I’ve got three-hundred buck monthly payments plus life support for the bucket of bolts I drive that’s seen better days, along with credit card debt, college loans, blah, blah…” He took another slug of beer. “The bank came up with an eighteen-month repayment schedule and said if I don’t comply they’re gonna call the loan with the full principal and interest immediately due. They wanted me to start last month but I convinced them to wait ‘til July.” He slammed his bottle onto the bar and pushed it away. “My fallback plan was to go to another bank or credit union, borrow money and pay off the first loan, but discovered my name is in some fucking deadbeat data bank and no one will lend me a dime. So, July first it is and that’s only a short time—”

“What about your parents? Won’t they—” Christina interrupted.

“No.”

“Even with your job on the line?”

He looked directly at her with crimson cheeks. “They are total assholes, from