It’s quiet now.
About 45 minutes out of Iceland, cruising westbound in a nearly empty Boeing 737-800 you discover some solace over the cold North Atlantic. I catch my breath.
It’s been a long week since I left home for Amsterdam and then onto Prague. A lot of time sitting on my ass waiting for people to do their jobs so that I can do mine. It’s one thing feeling helpless, but it’s another thing to feel helpless in a country formerly ruled by Communism. Now I know that the Berlin Wall fell way back in the day but some things are hard to shake. My time in Prague proved that to me.
Now we were suppose to be out of Prague 2 days ago, so in total it was about 4 days of sitting at the airport and hotel being frustrated. On our off time we stuck close to the hotel, staying close, visiting a couple of local watering holes. When the temperature is right around freezing, the wind is blowing and the snow is pelting one tends to stay close to warmth.
Because we were so delayed in leaving Prague our colleagues from the Netherlands took us out to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant in the old city. The underground in Prague is clean and efficient, and we were transported quickly to the old square where we were able to take in some of the sights of this historic city. In America we don’t have this sort of antiquity. Sure we may have Boston, Philadelphia and the other towns of our founders, but nothing like this. It’s hardly an apple to apples comparison when you are crossing a bridge built in the 1500’s and back home they talk about tearing down sports arenas less than 20 years old because they are “obsolete”.
But I digress.
So downstairs to the Italian restaurant we went; vibrant, busy, typical European. And it was wonderful. The food and wine were first rate, the company engaging and light hearted, and it helped take a little of the bad taste out of my mouth of the entire experience.
We arrived at the airport this morning apprehensive, but when they told us that CSA was doing pressurization checks on the aircraft I had a pretty good feeling that we’d be departing on schedule. I can’t say that leaving Prague was the saddest chapter in my life. Maybe I’ll come back again someday, who knows; that’s how strange this industry is.
So here we sit, 4 of us in back of an airplane configured to carry 174. The 2 pilots up front are hitting our waypoints as the CFM56-7B engines propel us westward against the fading sunset. Not many people get to do this, but then again, I don’t know too many people who’d really want to.
Soon I will be home again. Until the next time.
So why do we do this? Why do we bring ourselves miles and cultures away? Maybe working for an airline requires you to be wired differently. Maybe it’s a badge of honor to wear to tell others that you’ve persevered and done the duty. I think that in aviation you are always striving to prove that you can do things other people in other industries wouldn’t think of doing. I’m sure our fathers and their fathers were the same way. Explorers, adventurers, people who would do the job no matter how hard it was and how much sacrifice it takes. I see aviation like that. We’re not teachers, lawyers, captains of industry. We’re the ones who get the planes to the gate on time, invisible roadies making sure that the aircraft are safe for Jenny and Billy to take that first plane ride to see Mickey Mouse. Glamour in aviation went out the window back in the 60’s.
So why do we do it?
I don’t exactly know? Let me ask you this question…why do you do what you do?
