No, not our marriage. Tempting, but no.
No one's lucky enough to be done with us (yet). Chuck and Susie or "
Suckie" (as our friends have called us since
Bennifer made couples adhere to the one-name policy) will probably be around at least through 2010. Rough estimate. Don't hold me to it.
What's over, finally, is Chuck's career as an airline pilot.
Finally.
Finally.
Finally.
One more finally and then I'll move on.
Finally.
I have not been this happy since, well, since Chuck got hired as an airline pilot. Funny little paradox isn't it?
You knew Chuck was an airline pilot, right? Well,
was an airline pilot.
See, once upon a time Chuck decided he was going to be an airline pilot. This was sometime between the ages of 1 and 2, and he never relented. He went to college to become a pilot -- they have an aviation program at the school we went to. In between English 101 and Geology 144, Chuck and his aviation friends were doing solo flights, simulator training, and check rides.
We thought this was very cool.
I mean, wouldn't you?
Ok, picture this: You're 18. You just left home. You live in the dorms. The guy across the hall just learned to fly an airplane by himself. I think this is, and remains, the only time I've ever thought Chuck was cool. In fact, I blame the acquisition of his Private Pilot License freshman year of college for our entire relationship. When you're 18, driving fast is cool. Driving an airplane is literally off the charts.
Here's a funny story, if you can spare a quick divergence:
When Chuck got his pilot license, Me and the other dorm kids pitched in some money to rent a plane for a few hours and head into the sky with Chuck. We did a bunch of stalls, Lee threw up, it was awesome. WE WERE 19. What the heck were we thinking? I wouldn't do that
now. 19? Saddle up.
Bottom line. We loved flying. We loved it. Chuck worked all through college to become the best pilot he could, and he really is amazing at it.
After Chuck graduated, he worked as a flight instructor. You do this to build "time". Aviation is all about how much time you have. How many hours you've flown and how many engines are on the plane you were flying. It's all very confusing. I'm sparing you so many details, you should thank me.
Chuck built his time.
He built his resume.
And one day, the happiest day, he got hired. At a real airline. We were so happy. His family, my family, we were busting. I told people "My husband is an airline pilot" with the type of reverence you use when talking about angels.
It was like getting called up to the Big Leagues.
And then finding out that working in the Big Leagues meant making less than a first year school teacher or a grocery truck delivery driver. Oh and he worked for one of the better paying airlines. We have lots of friends making $15,000 a year flying you from point A to point B. Consider that next time you fly.
For Chuck, it also meant you worked about 5 days a week. But not weekdays and not always consistently. Some weeks, you have Tuesday and Wednesday off. Some weeks, it's Thursday-Friday. Which is great because so many other people have those days off too... Oh and remember that the days you're working, you don't come home those days. You leave day 1. You come back day 5.
And the days you're working. Well, you're probably not. You're on what's called "reserve" for years. Years. Reserve means sitting in the airport for 8 hours hoping to be called to fly. You get paid for 4 of those hours. Consider that lifestyle for a little bit. Sitting by yourself, in an airport, for 8 hours, everyday.
Then some days, you do fly. You take off, which is fun. You land, which is fun. In the middle, autopilot is on so it's like cruise control driving through Montana. What are you doing with yourself? And you do that over and over until you land in another city and you stay alone in a hotel. You have dinner alone. You wander the city alone. You watch TV alone.
And while Chuck was doing that and having "fun", everything else was happening without him. Every holiday, every birthday, every time I was sick and needed someone home, every time our friends were in town. We called 2007 and 2008 the years Chuck missed. Because he missed everything.
I was miserable. I was living, essentially, alone in an apartment missing him. I may (MAY) have gone a little crazy from the lonely and started sleeping with lights and radios on, with boxes barricading our front door, and -- you'll enjoy this one -- the remote in my hand to use as a weapon , just in case. We started spelling crazy S-U-S-I-E.
Chuck had, what we in teaching, call an "a-ha" moment.
He was alone in a hotel eating Taco Bell over the sink. Taco Bell had forgotten his
spork so he was eating a
enchorito, covered in sauce, with his fingers. He looked at himself, wearing a stripped down version of his pilot uniform, covered in fast food sauce, and had that "what am I doing with my life?" moment.
Neither of us wanted to be the one to say it.
Flying was his dream. I wasn't going to be the wife that forces him out and he didn't want to admit that it wasn't what he thought it was going to be.
There are people everywhere that talk non-stop about how you can't leave aviation right away. You need to stick it out, it'll get better. Your schedule will get better. Your pay will get better, But really, so many of those people that we met were still hoping for it to get better 8, 10 years down the road. And better is still working weekends. Better still means living out of a suitcase. Better still means doing most everything alone. And Chuck noticed that most of the guys who encouraged the "it gets better" mantra were on wives 2 or 3. We didn't want to get AIDS (Aviation Induced Divorce Syndrome). We kind of like each other and we kind of like seeing each other on a daily sort of basis.
Right about the time Chuck and I were starting to think maybe the Pilot Life wasn't for us (and it is for some, just not us), the economy crashed. I know this sounds awful, but it was perfect timing for us. The Airlines announced
there'd be lay-offs and fingers crossed, Chuck would be one. (Who prays for their husband's termination?? This girl.)
Chuck started looking for a new job before he was ever laid off (because he's smart like that) and six months later he found one. And it's even aviation related so his degree wasn't for not. He took a leave of absence from the airline and was officially furloughed January 2009, two months after he took his new job.
Technically, the entire time I've known you, Chuck has been an airline pilot. He's been technically
employed with the Airline, just not working because of the layoffs. Technically, they could "call him back" and he'd have every
opportunity and right to go back.
And most everyone in the aviation world assumed he would.
Because, why wouldn't he?
Why wouldn't he want to be an Airline pilot?
Well, the letter to go back has arrived.
And he turned the Airline down today.
He officially resigned.
Not that I'm shocked or surprised or anything like that, it's just that it means (officially) that it's finally over. The age of Chuck the Airline Pilot is behind us. It's like the elephant finally walking out of the room.
It's over.
Chuck's not a furloughed airline pilot working somewhere else.
He's just an employee at a great company that gives him weekends off and holidays off and lets him come home for dinner each night. No seniority needed.
And that is what we call years of bottled up emotion dumped out on a blog.
I feel so much better.
