A Long Rode to Ho

August.  We've reached the hot months in Florida.  I leave the comfort of the air conditioned building and walk to the airplane.  It's only 95 outside but as I leave the much cooler building and walk onto the asphalt lake that is the ramp, I am hit by a blast of hot air.  Within seconds, I am sweating.  At 1 o'clock in the afternoon, there is little wind and, as I drop myself in the cockpit of the Seminole, the heat is frustrating.  Sweat is dripping off my arms and face and I am angered by the sun beating down on my unprotected face.  If I close the door, the interior of the airplane will surely rise from the nearly 100 degrees it is now to upwards of 140 degrees.  So, I leave the door open.  As the propellers start turning, the warm breeze evaporates some of the sweat off my skin making the air feel cooler.  As compared to the sweltering cockpit, it might actually be cooler.  It definitely isn't as cool as the 75 degrees that the A/C is pumping into the building, but it's a good substitute.  

On that note, I can't imagine working for a living on a roof, painting a house, pouring concrete, or the likes.  The heat is miserable.  Within 20 minutes, we are climbing through 2000 feet where the air is much cooler.  Eventually, by 5000 feet, it has cooled to a much more tolerable 70 degrees as the student and I twist and turn over the skies of the Atlantic Ocean.  While this job is infinitely (yes, I said infinitely) better than my last, I can't help but think of the future.

I watch students, many of whom are much younger than I am, leave and go back to their respective countries with little more than 200 hours.  They are anxious for the future as many have already been scheduled for indoctrination classes for their respective airlines.  It is intimidating (and somewhat exciting) to know that I am teaching the world's next generation of airline pilots but frustrating knowing that they will be hopping in the right seat of a large passenger jet within months while I burn holes in the sky of Florida.  In 3 days I turn 29.  Wow, that's a big number.  When I got out of the Air Force, I was 27...well, when I officially left I had already turn 28.  As I calculate my hours every week, I can't help but project when I'll reach the needed minimums and it is discouraging.  If my math checks out, I'll reach 1000 hours by the end of the year and 1500 by this time next year.  I'll be 30 and still flight instructing. 

I can't complain too much.  As I said, I do enjoy what I do.  It is difficult to swallow sending a student to a check ride knowing that it goes on my instructor record as well.  Enough failures and I get a visit from the friendly FAA; a thought I don't want to deal with.  It's difficult balance of wanting to save my students money but being completely confident that they aren't going to have any glaring deficiencies the examiner will find.  I also get paid well.  At the end of last month, I received my first raise.  While not a large jump, I know every bit counts.  I am able to live relatively comfortably as a single guy, and will probably start paying off more of my loan.  

Some of the most shocking feedback I received from my boss during my review was that he is impressed by and considers my enthusiasm to be one of my greatest attributes.  If you were to ask my fellow officers in Montana if they considered me enthusiastic, they would most likely laugh.  In fact, a squadron mate who I worked with as a deputy in "the shop" would always ask the same question as I walked into his office every so often. "Oh hey Chris.  What are you going to complain about today?  Let me guess, something has pissed you off."  Yes Matt, if you are reading this, I'm talking about you.  He was right though.  I was not very fun to be around.  I was a tad bit depressing.

For those who follow closely, you know I recently asked for some feedback on a problem I had.  Thank you all for the quick feedback and it will please many of you to know that I've taken the contract and recently completed the required time to start teaching in the other airplane.  I continue to have the reputation to fly as much as is needed and people keep giving me extra work.  For that, I am thankful.

So, I will for the time being, continue to plug along.  The job market is still bleak and I am extremely thankful to not only have a job, but one that I can say I enjoy.  After all, I'm not building houses, taring a roof, or fixing highways; however, I hold lofty goals for my life.  I don't want to be 30 and worrying week-to-week how I'm going to get enough hours in.  I am anxiously awaiting the future.  As I scour the job boards and continue to find myself falling far short of minimums, I wonder pessimistically if an adjective should be added to my blog title.  Perhaps I am chasing a pipe dream.