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The
Other Side of the Clouds
"God does
not deduct from man's allotted time the
hours spent in flying..."
Of all the
cutesy sayings and slogans that one runs
into at local airports, this one
impresses me the most.
But the
first time I read it, I did not grasp
it's meaning.
I am a
foreigner, you know.
As a fairly
fresh arrival in the States, this little
piece of poetry stared me in the face
from an old wooden plague and begged to
be comprehended. Not only the
words were beyond my limited
linguistic reach, but the meaning
escaped me as well.
I spoke the
phrase out loud and because of the
absence of punctuation, it did not come
out right.
The guy
behind the flight counter stared me down
like the inexperienced underling that I
was.
"Read
it in one breath", he suggested.
I did and
was defeated once more. It was not until
I walked into that same hangar at the
same small airport almost a year later
when the very presence of the same sign
reminded me of the grammatical dilemma.
But this
time I read it and I got it! The initial
happiness with my progress in the
foreign tongue of English was soon
surpassed by the joy of true
understanding. The statement made sense!
"Damn,
that's pretty good", I thought to
myself.
Sometime
later in my flying career, a similar
sentiment was conveyed by a crusty old
Gulfstream pilot. After leveling
off at 20-odd thousand feet I
was once again reminded that the
"Cruise Check List" is not
completed until the man in the left seat
has his coffee in hand, diligently
served by the eager co-pilot who was
only there by the grace of God and
because competent personnel was not
available that day.
After
putting just the right amount of creamer
in the java for the retired air force
colonel, I settled back into my seat and
buckled up. The visibility seemed
endless and a scattered deck of clouds
stretched below. Beyond it we looked at
lakes and towns sliding by.
Looking up
at clouds from the ground can be a
pleasant pastime, gazing down at them is
an amazingly beautiful sight.
It was one
of those days, perfect in every way and
not a hint of turbulence.
"We are
just a bunch of thieves", I heard
over the headset. Glancing to my left I
saw that the Boss was looking over the
steaming cup at me.
"Come
again?" I said.
"Thieves",
he repeated, "we are just
thieves..."
And in
response to my raised eyebrows he shook
his gray head: "...they are
paying us to do
this....unbelievable..."
Almost ten
thousand hours later and five years into
a love affair with a country that would
temporarily rob me blind, I had the
pleasure of flying a business jet into
the Juan Santa Maria airport in San
Jose.
We had left
Texas for a two hour flight to Cancun,
Mexico, where we landed for fuel and
directions. From there, we climbed out
over Cozumel and headed for the eastern
tip of Honduras.
A slight
turn to the right and the Rich Coast lay
ahead.
As usual, the
Atlantic side was partially hidden
by cloud cover and rain, but as I turned
over the El Coco beacon, the Central
Plateau came into sight, the deep green
of the surrounding mountains intensified
by the blue backdrop of the
Pacific.
On a high
downwind, paralleling the single runway,
I could almost see the entire country.
This narrow sliver of land can be seen
from coast to coast at a mere 6000 feet.
Arenal was clearly visible for a change
and the view was breathtaking.
At that
moment, I was reminded of the wistful
statement I encountered years ago: "God
does not deduct from man's allotted time
the hours spent in flying".
Whether it
really makes you live longer, or just
strengthens your desire to hang around,
it is beautifully put and every day I
take to the skies it goes with me.
Because I am
experiencing it first hand almost
every day.
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