Highest Duty_ My Search for What Really Matters - Chesley B. Sullenberger [11]
When we finally touched down on the runway at 8:35 P.M., I was back exactly where I’d started at seven-thirty that morning. But the good news was there were no flight delays; it was still early enough. There was time for me to get to my car in the airport parking lot, and drive fifty minutes northeast to Danville, so I could spend the night with Lorrie and the kids.
This was a bonus layover. Instead of being gone, as usual, for the entire four-day trip, I got to go home.
WHEN I got into the house on that Monday night, it was nine forty-five and the girls were heading to bed. I didn’t get to spend much time with them. But the next morning, I was able to drop them both off at school.
Kelly, now in eighth grade, had to be at her middle school by eight. I kissed her good-bye and told her I’d see her at the end of the week.
Then it was time to drive Kate to her high school. Actually, I was driven by Kate. She still had her driver’s permit then, and was always looking to get experience, if not necessarily lessons. So she took the wheel and I got in the front passenger seat as a combination copilot and “check airman.” That’s the term for a pilot who is an instructor accompanying another pilot to assess his or her skills.
Being with Kate at the wheel of the family SUV was like being with Jeff on the Airbus. I was observing, admiring, and taking notes.
My take on Kate is that she’s a good driver, though a bit overconfident. She’s also not sure all the rules of the road apply to her, so I’ve tried to impress upon her the fact that driving laws prevent anarchy. In the airline industry, we’d say she’s “selective about compliance.” But overall, she’s doing well. I’m pretty comfortable with her driving abilities, and told her so that morning. When she pulled up in front of her school, I kissed her and promised her I’d see her at the end of the week.
After I got back to the house, I made Lorrie a cup of tea and we had a pretty serious conversation. Because the Jiffy Lube franchisee had decided not to renew his lease six months earlier, and our commercial property—the land and the empty building—was still vacant, we were in serious financial straits. How long could we keep paying the mortgage without rent coming in? “Not much longer,” I told Lorrie, and we discussed whether we’d need to sell our family home to solve our money problems. That would be a worst-case scenario, we agreed, and we had several other contingency plans for dealing with this before we’d have to sell. Still, it was a sobering and unresolved dilemma that would have to be tabled until my return later in the week. I needed to head back to the airport in San Francisco.
Before I left home, I made myself two sandwiches, one turkey and one peanut butter and jelly, and put them in a lunch bag along with a banana. This also has become part of my ritual. Until the last eight years or so, airlines provided meals for pilots and flight attendants on long flights. Economic cutbacks have ended that little perk.
On this day, because it was later in the morning, I was able to kiss Lorrie good-bye. An hour later I was at the airport again, preparing to pilot the A319 Airbus to Pittsburgh. Once Jeff and I got the plane into the air and on its way, those sandwiches and the banana served me well.
Much about flying has a hold on me. I still find it satisfying on many fronts—especially when I look out the cockpit window. I am grateful for all the adventures to be found at thirty thousand feet. But I’ve got to be honest: Eating PB&J while smelling the gourmet beef being distributed with wine in first class—that’s a sure reminder that there are less-than-glamorous aspects of my job.
After we landed in Pittsburgh on that Tuesday night,