Chapter VIII

I had just come back from Khartoum where we had done a damage estimate on a 707. That was a nasty job for a couple of reasons. This was in the mid eighties, the government of Sudan had just been overthrown, and the State Department would not grant us papers until the new Government could guarantee our safety. We couldn't get in country for a couple of months, until things had stabilized a little.
It was another instance of the front landing gear folding up.
When we flew in, the plane was immediately surrounded by about 50 men armed with AK-47s. It made me more than a little nervous, seeing as the last time I saw little brown people with AK-47’s they were doing their best to make holes in me.
Turns out they were what passed for the good guys that week. They formed a ring around us and stayed with us everywhere we went. They even slept in the hallway outside our rooms. Somehow it didn’t make me feel any better. Nobody ever took a shot at us, but it was just the thought that if they needed that tight of security, what the heck was I doing there?
The second half wasn’t any better than the first. The 707 had been used as a cattle carrier for several years. When an aircraft gets old and down on its luck, they convert them into cattle carriers. This is after they have used up their life as regular cargo carriers.
This particular plane had been not been well maintained. Cows being what they are, they do what cows do when they are nervous, which is piss and crap all over everything. It all drains down into the cargo bay. The acid in the urine eats up the aluminum. Pretty soon the skin panels are full of holes. Since they never fly at high altitudes, they don’t have to pressurize the hull, so it doesn’t really matter as long as the structure holds together and the flight surfaces are functional. This plane was in its last stages. The lower skins barely hung on to the stringers, and the stringers weren’t in the best of condition.
When we examined the front gear, the main hydraulic cylinder had rust streaks dripping down about half its length. There were rust stains about halfway through the metal itself. It was a wonder it hadn’t snapped off long before. Our report to the insurance carrier stated the fault of the accident was neglected maintenance. Didn’t make us any points with the new Sudanese Government, which was trying to extort a couple of million dollars out of the Insurance Company. I don’t believe I’ll ever go there for a vacation.
After flying in to Sea-Tac, I was about ready to kiss the ground just to be back in the USA. After sleeping for almost 24 hours, I just wanted to go into downtown Seattle and wander around and see people that weren’t carrying guns (at least not visibly), and hear the American language spoken as a primary language.
I was wandering down Fourth Avenue, and took a left, slightly uphill. I looked in the window, and there was Star. She had looked up at the exact second I had looked in, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She jumped out of her desk and ran out the door.
“Is that really you, Pat?” she asked “I haven’t seen you in what, five or six years?”
Given how things had ended between us, I was surprised she even wanted to talk to me. But one thing I know for sure is that we forget the pain over time, or rather we forget just how bad it was. We remember the good stuff and push out the other.
“How you doing, Star? Five years, ten months, not that I keep track. It just happens that we broke up two weeks before my mom’s birthday, and that is rolling around again. Being the genius that I am, I deduce you work here, huh?”
“An astute observation, my dear Watson! What detective school did you say you went to? Oh yes, Elementary my dear Watson.” She chimed back.
It was good to see her. I wasn’t ready for her or any one else before. Maybe this time. So I got her number and promised to call. My first impulse was to drop her number in the first trashcan I passed. For some reason I stuffed it in my pocket. The thing we learn from experience is that we don’t learn from experience.
I was not dating anyone in particular at the time. Since I never knew from one week to the next where I was going to be, it didn’t exactly condone building a long-term relationship.
I think that is just OK with me. The times I have hung my heart out there on a string, the sharks came along and chewed it up. Don’t get me wrong. I love being in love. There is nothing in this world like the times when you wander around in the daze of love, more or less oblivious. Colors are brighter, food tastes better, the sun shines brighter, music is sweeter, and the sex can’t be beat. But that state is sort of self-limiting. After a couple of months, you wake up and it is time to start thinking about the future, that part scares the crap out of me.
If I can’t tell you where in the world I might be next Tuesday, how can I commit for the rest of my life. Usually about the time I start getting cold feet, an assignment will come along out in Bumfuque Egypt, and I will be gone for a couple of months. It makes the transition back to no commitment a lot easier. I mean it’s not like she can show up on the job site and make a scene.
I rent a fair-sized two bedroom above The Pike Place Market. I like being able to go down and immerse myself in humanity. I know most of the vendors and sales people, and hear most of the gossip. It is like having a huge extended family, but one that I can walk away from at any time. It is also one of the best places in the Pacific Northwest to pick up women.
If one of the Tour Boats is in town, there are always a good percentage of women on vacation looking for a little fling to remember their stay. There is a lot of traffic of young professionals who work downtown and come by to pick up a few things on the way to someplace else, and looking for something else. Bored Housewives. College students. With the STDs around today, you have to be careful, and always, always, always wear a condom, no matter how clean they look. I sure as hell don’t want to end up dead over a piece of ass.
A couple of drinks at a watering hole, and bundle them off to my place for a well-rounded evening’s entertainment. Mind you my success rate isn’t 100% or anything, but it is sufficient to keep me away from the hired kind.
No adventure there. Sex as a commodity just isn’t for me, although a long enough dry spell might convince me otherwise. There’s only so much you can do by yourself, and it just isn’t all that satisfying. Whacking off is OK, but it is like an appetizer with no meal to follow.
This being November, the traffic in The Market was pretty slim, so I ended up going back to my place alone. The view is great, but it is always a lot more enjoyable showing it to someone else than enjoying it alone. A lot like sex.
When it is one of those soggy Seattle Fall days, I prefer Rum drinks. Meyers Dark Rum on the rocks. I figure that if you HAVE to put mixer with it, it probably isn’t worth drinking. Some things are better with a mixer, but if you can’t drink it straight, it probably isn’t much better mixed with something else. There are some things that are naturals together; Tanquaray and tonic is one of those. Every once in a while I get a craving for a Gin and Tonic. Not now though. That is more of a hot weather drink. On a soggy day like today, Hot Buttered Rum is one of the greatest liquid comforters that there is.
The trouble with liquor is it screws up your impulse control. Almost every time I have gotten in trouble there was alcohol involved in it somewhere. I’m not an alcoholic or anything, I just like the stuff. When I am out on a job I will go for months without a drink, and not miss it at all. It is just that there is a time and place for everything, and there is no place for alcohol when you are working 12-hour days. A lot of the hard working/hard playing AOG crowd disagrees with me, but I have seen what they look like after a couple of long days and long nights strung together. I just don’t like the idea of making a critical repair on an aircraft with impaired faculties. I mean we aren’t doing a tune-up on a Plymouth Voyager. If you screw up, it can come out of the sky and everyone on board dies.
So I found myself on the phone, and the only number on my screen was Star's. After all I wasn't making a commitment or anything, just connecting with someone I knew.
So I made the call. Lonely will make you do things you never would consider, rational.
"Hey Birdie. It's Pat. I thought it would be nice if we got together and compared lifelines or something."
"I have to get a babysitter, but Mary down the hall owes me one. Where?"
"The Alexis at 9:00 sound good to you?"
So we met at the Alexis for drinks. What was this stuff about a babysitter? She had a three-year-old son by a previous relationship. Married and everything. Had I taken the plunge? No.
"What are you doing now?"
I could go on about AOG for a couple of hours, but this was not the time. "I repair airplanes"
"You are so good with your hands, I knew you would end up doing something special with mechanical stuff"
"So, you have a kid?"
"You know how it is, you just have to get out. I hated that pisswater little town so bad, I would do anything to get out, so I did anything. Married a jackass from the Coast, just to get out of town. Turned out he had a lot of ideas, but no idea how to turn them into money. We existed for a couple of years, but never got anywhere. There was always some get rich quick scheme. Of course none of them ever paid off."
"So I got left with the kid and the bills and the debts. I hear he is over there in Idaho, selling used farm equipment or some such, but with the economy being what it is, who buys that stuff anymore?"
"I get no child support, I get no help. But I go my own way and pay my own bills, I don't need that asshole anyway."