This is my entry for the 2024
On The Job
event.
What? Don't be silly - this is totally fictional. Absolutely nothing like this is ever happening
in all those jets you see overhead every day. Now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.
+
One of the perks of flying for somebody with their own hanger is that parking is much easier.
I pulled up near the big company logo on the hanger wall, pulled out my bag and mentally ran through the recall notice as I locked the car.
"Karen Hughes?"
I'd brushed sleep out of my eyes, looked at the clock-radio's unforgiving red numbers: 5:35.
AM, of course.
"Is this Karen Hughes?" the voice on my phone had repeated.
"Yeah. It's me. Who is this, please?"
"Corporate Dispatch, Ms. Hughes. Are you awake now?"
"Yes. I think so. What's up?"
"Your home-standby has been activated. You are required to be at the corporate hanger at 0730 for an 0930 departure. Please acknowledge."
I'd tried to shake off the lingering sleepiness.
"Yes."
A thought had struck me.
"How long will we be gone and where?"
I always carry my passport, but two days in Panama needs a different suitcase than a week in Fairbanks. Some things you learn quickly.
"Las Vegas, overnight, possible one-day extension. Confirm your availability, please."
"I'm available. Who's the captain, please?"
"The captain will be Jan Garten."
"Any special instructions?"
"No. Good morning, Ms. Hughes."
+
I'd never flown with Captain Garten, nor even met her, but a tall woman with four bars on the shoulders of her white uniform blouse was talking on a desk phone in the pilots' lounge and seemed a likely choice. I approached her, waited.
With her seniority, Captain Garten had to have been in her 40s, but the woman in front of me could easily have passed for ten years younger. Her blonde hair was curly, her eyes blue and her figure slim. She looked like everything I wanted to be in 20 years.
Looking up, she took a quick look at my name-tag, nodded and smiled as she waved me to a nearby chair. Her conversation didn't last much longer. When she hung up, she sighed to herself and turned to me.
"You're Hughes." It wasn't really a question.
Each captain has their own personal expectations, so I went full-courtesy mode.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Call me Jan."
I nodded.
"We haven't had the chance to fly together yet, but my normal copilot called in sick and you're it. Let's see your logbook, please."
I hadn't digitized it yet; my wings were new enough that I still liked looking at it in my hands. A moment with my carry-on bag and I handed the (in my opinion) embarrassingly-thin book to her. She began thumbing through it.
"687 hours, 43½ on type, first hired here three months ago..." Her voice trailed off and she began to mutter to herself.
She snapped the log closed and handed it back.
"Okay. You'll do. We'll get into the details in a minute, but to start with, we're flying Geordie and a small..."
"Geordie?" I interrupted. "Geordie himself?"
Our President and CEO was an international A-list celebrity, the founder and majority shareholder of one of the world's biggest IT firms. He'd been listed as one of the most-recognizable individuals in the country.
While he could have bought and sold a few minor countries out of pocket change, so to speak, he was said to be affable and very casual, insisting for instance that all his employees call him by his first name. Also, if you liked football, he was your boy -- he'd even bought his own personal football club.
"Geordie," she repeated. "And don't interrupt. Geordie's team is playing in Las Vegas tonight. He and a small party of friends will be flying down for the game. Once there, we're on our own until tomorrow, but I want to make this seamless, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am... I mean yes, Jan."
"OK, the flight plan is filed. We'll go over weather and such, but have you any questions so far?"
"Um, just one. Have we any cabin crew or deadheads?"
"Nope, just us. Geordie is generally super informal. There'll be food and stuff in the galley, but it'll be self-serve for them."
"Okay."
From somewhere she produced a one-page form and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows a little, for it looked like the legal non-disclosure form I'd signed when I'd been hired. I glanced up at her in surprise.
"Yes," she said. "I know, but this isn't the usual. Look closely and you'll see it specifically relates to anything about this trip. And that's the new norm for you."
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?"
"You've got the idea."
I scribbled my signature on the thing and passed it back.
"Fine," she said, "now let's look at the pleasant lies the met office has sent us this time..."
+
Finished inside, she led me out into the hanger. There were four aircraft in the company fleet, all Falcons. I personally liked Dassault airplanes; I'd done my advanced training at the aviation college with them. I'd sometimes thought that had made a difference when I applied for my present position.
Three of the twin-engine aircraft were painted a solid white with the corporate logo high on the tail. I'd been flying those, taking VIPs and board members for business trips and such, and once a bunch of disabled vets, would you believe it, to and from Miami for a free cruise - Geordie was generous when he wanted to be. The three 'standard' jets were very comfortable and decorated in creams and soft browns. Communications, Wi-Fi access and such were state-of-the art and the cockpit was even better. They were a dream to fly, even in the right-hand seat.
I'd not been in the fourth aircraft, which was painted the same white colour, but with Geordie's famous 'G' personal signature replacing the company logo on the tail. Corporate aircrew commonly referred to it simply as 'The Big G'.
Jan and I did a walk-around inspection, talked to the maintenance team, signed off on a couple of things, the usual stuff. Then she led me inside and I instantly went from Impressed to Very Impressed.
Inside, The Big G was decorated in mainly dark colours. Aft of the cockpit was a small bed for crew naps, then a small but complete galley, a well-stocked bar and a toilet. Aft of that was the main compartment, with half a dozen very-comfortable-looking leather chairs, a table and a very long leather sofa along one side, with an enormous television screen opposite. Then, after another bulkhead, was a small bedroom. The size of the fuselage limited the bed to a double, but it still looked very comfy. Finally, just before the baggage compartment, was a second loo and a small but serviceable shower.
"Sweet!" I gulped as Jan led me around.
"Glad you approve. Let's get to work."
Again, the drill was pretty standard, routine checks and start-up procedures. What was impressive to me was how clean the cockpit was. To me, that suggested maintenance would also be better-than-average.
I
like
good maintenance when I'm flying.
Jan's side window was facing the hanger.
"We've got company," she announced presently.
Looking past her, I could see two men and two women in civilian clothes exiting the hanger onto the flight-line. Geordie's six-foot-five frame was instantly recognizable. He wore his trademark smile and his usual checkered dress shirt. A flunky followed with a cart full of luggage.
"Let's go," Jan said. "We'll meet them outside."
She'd timed it pretty well. They arrived at the foot of the stairs just seconds after we did.
"Good morning, Jan," Geordie said, smiling.
"Good morning, Geordie. May I introduce my copilot for this flight, Karen Hughes?"
His handshake was firm, but looking up at him, I was impressed with the care he took to not crush my hand.
"Nice to meet you, Karen. These," and he gestured to the other three, "are my guests. This is Aldo and these ladies are Sunny and Mia."
Aldo was dark, maybe in his mid-40s. Casually but expensively dressed in a dark suit and open-necked shirt, he had broad shoulders and a nice smile. He wore a small goatee and short hair. A thin gold wristwatch on his right wrist suggested he was left-handed.
Sunny was tall, taller even than Jan, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and lovely South Asian features. Her superlative figure was covered – and I use that word advisedly – by a knee-length translucent dress seemingly fashioned of nothing more than three handfuls of morning mist. You had to look closely to see that under it she was also wearing a thong and a mini bra perfectly matching her skin colour. The effect was amazing, especially since she wore it and the matching heels with absolute confidence, the way you or I would wear jeans to go grocery shopping. Her jewellery, all gold, was limited to hoop earrings, a thin bangle on one wrist and a fine waist chain clearly visible through her dress.
Mia was built on a smaller scale, but with a deliciously feminine figure. While Sunny might have stepped off an haute couture runway, Mia could have been the inspiration for an entire Irish art festival trying to imagine next year's winner of the All-Ireland Miss Leprechaun contest. Freckled, with green eyes and curly red hair, Mia was a head-turner. Her outfit was a simple, above-the-knee blue skirt and a white long-sleeved sweater. Simple, yes, but both skirt and sweater looked as if they'd been sprayed on or grown in place and her nipples were obvious under the light wool. Her outfit was set off by a single-strand pearl necklace and bright red strapped high heels.
Neither of them would have been out of place at a Hollywood gala. I took a quick glance at Jan and found myself wondering why she wasn't thin-lipped with jealousy, too.
Someday, Karen. Someday.
"Help the nice man get the bags stowed, please, Karen."
With that, my bubble popped and my day really began.
+
I knew the Falcon startup procedure by heart and suspected Jan knew it better, but we still used a printed list in a small binder. When we finished, she turned to me.
"Looks good. Go back and do a lap check, please."
I nodded and headed back to the cabin.
"The captain says we are about to take off. It would be appreciated if everybody could remain seated with their seat-belts fastened until she says otherwise."
