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Part 1
More to come.
Paz.
Rustle.
The office was too warm today. The whirring AC unit could barely hold back the sticky Athenian heat as Greece went through another unseasonably warm day. They call it climate change.
Crunch-crunch.
It had just gone two o’clock, PM. My crew and I had a couple of days leave so I was busying myself filing PIREPs and typing reports on the ancient Olivetti greybox E. Venizelos management had deigned to give us, clocking up a few more hours flight time on my other aircraft of choice, the D-1 Desk. Tonight I was out on the town with Nat and a couple of old friends from Tolo in the south, but for now I was reasonably content to be sitting here in mufti for a change.
Crunch.
I wasn’t alone in the office, however. Sitting a few feet away in one of the EZ-chairs we kept near the door was Jon Rose, my chief flight attendant. God knows why he came in today but he had chosen this moment to open a bag of lunchtime nibbles he had purchased from one of the many general purpose stores our side of the satellite terminal, which was where most Air-Child flights came to rest. He was eating a pack of cheese-and-onion Lays at present, and was making as much noise as humanly possible. I looked up at the back of his head, frowned, then got back to typing.
Kerrunch.
As the only crew based at LGAV I run a small, but tight ship. My first officer, Francesca Rollo, was fresh from a bright career with BMI but she was made redundant as they started to cut back on longer haul routes in face of the credit crunch. We both held the same rank at Air-Child but for the most part I was PIC and she was kind enough to defer to my judgement, again for the most part. Jon, as I already mentioned, is my chief steward. He initially worked as an underbutler at a stately home in Buckinghamshire but made the switch to airline work a couple of years ago. Air-Child is his first proper job in the skies and whilst he doesn’t come naturally to flying he does know how to look after people, which is what I want. Two young ladies, Vanessa Eichmann and Christine Rivers work under him and are spectacular stewardesses. I had the pleasure of flying with them before, briefly, during my time as a co-pilot for FlyUK and it was a fun coincidence that they were now working for Air-Child. My crew chief and head engineer isn’t technically an Air-Child employee, being a contractor hired from LGAV, but I’ve known him for years from my trips island hopping in Greece. He’s a Greek national by the name of Pavlos Marangakos which is good because my Greek is not the best, certainly not up to task of communicating with the fast-paced , heavily accented chaps who maintain my aircraft.
In short, I was very lucky to be on good and close terms with everyone on my team.
Crunch.
“For God’s sake-!”
“Sorry.”
Jon turned around in his seat with a sad expression on his face, but he still couldn’t stop himself from subconsciously licking his lips, washing the salt off them. He crumpled the now empty crisp packet up with his greasy fingers, putting the rubbish back in his plastic bag.
I glared at him for a moment, then my expression softened. “It’s OK,” I sighed, “It’s just that that’s REALLY irritating.” I held up my hands in an exasperated fashion for emphasis before dropping them back to the keyboard.
“Yeah, sorry.” Jon smiled back and as if nothing had been said started fishing around in his bag for something else to eat. He produced a green apple and started to polish it on his dark jeans.
I rolled my eyes and with another sigh leant on my desk, cradling my head in my hand. It felt heavy in the sweltering heat and I started to stare out of the window at the deep blue sky. There was a faint rumble as an Airbus flew past. It was pointing dramatically upwards as it shot by and I caught myself briefly thinking about over-rotation. I’d scraped a tail once at Stansted on one of my earlier checkrides but it wasn’t too serious and after an initial chewing out me and my PIC laughed about it. Thankfully we didn’t have any passengers on board... they tend to worry too much about stuff like that.
Schulck-crunch.
I was shaken out of my reverie by the sound of Jon destroying his apple. The noise of his lip’s suction and his teeth gnawing at the rock-hard fruit went right through me. I jumped up and pointed at the door.
“That’s it, get out!” I wasn’t really angry, my tone wasn’t right, but I WAS reaching the end of my tether. Jon looked at me with his mouth agape. I don’t think he knew whether I was being serious or not. I jerked my finger at the door sharply. “Go on, shoo. I don’t even know why you’re here but you’re driving me insane. Go find a normal place to eat, please!”
Jon swallowed slowly and gave me a quick smile. I hung my head and was forced to chuckle. In the background I heard the AC click and then cease whirring. It had overheated and stopped, as it had done many times before. Once it cooled it would kick back in but while it was off the office was plunged into complete silence. I felt sweat start to prickle on my brow.
“Sorry, Jim.” Jon glanced away and placed the half eaten apple into the bag. “I’m full anyway,” he giggled as he got to his feet. Tucking the plastic bag full of food packaging behind his back he looked at me as I leant on my shoddy Ikea desk. I smiled back.
“What is it, Jay?” I asked, knowing he wanted to say something.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, it’s just you need a break mate.” He walked towards me and I straightened up, arms crossed. “We’re off for a few days and you’re in here filing reports.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but I’m in charge here, so...”
Jon guffawed. “No, no Jim you’re not in charge, you just like to THINK you’re in charge.” He had a point. At present time we were the only crew based in Greece, a bit of a law unto ourselves so to speak. I wasn’t management at all, I was just the pilot, but sometimes I saw myself as the de facto manager at the LGAV office.
“Yeah, I know.” The room was starting to get really hot know the AC was down. I looked down and turned off my computer monitor before smiling at Jon.
“Pint?” I asked.
He laughed heartily. “That’s more like it, Cap.” There were a few bars dotted around to airport. A ten minute walk to the nearest, and I did feel like a break. Jon held up the plastic bag that once contained his lunch. “Let me dump this somewhere and then we’ll head off.”
I walked around my desk and over to turn out the lights when there was an abrupt knock on the office door. Jon and I looked quizzically at each other.
“Who the hell is that?” I asked, rhetorically. Jon shrugged again and I called to whoever was on the other side of the door. “Come in!”
More to come.
Paz.