I begin to reflect on many of my life’s challenges and difficulties. I think of my career, and the weight of the past few years begins to rear its ugly head in my mind. My dream career as an airline pilot now appears to have been all but ruined by gross mismanagement. I ponder the loss of my job should Air Canada go broke.
I imagine the difficulties I may face with the huge reduction of salary now projected. I contemplate the loss of thousands upon thousands of dollars in my retirement fund. In fact, the fund may be completely wiped out. I ask myself what I have been working so hard for if everything is about to be erased. I find it hard to comprehend that with a stroke of a pen, some executive can take everything I have worked so hard to achieve and smash it into oblivion.
I think of EspŽrance, this beautiful yacht that I have so enjoyed. The yacht I waited over twenty-five years to buy . . . I sigh and contemplate the ugly reality. I have to sell her. I’ll lose my shirt financially. The thought weighs heavy on me.
I continue to think of the challenges I face, having to travel 1800 miles to Toronto to work. I think of the enormous amount of effort and time I have put into commuting from my home in Vancouver. All because I love my job. I love flying and I love flying big jets. Now, because of the merger with Canadian Airlines, I am losing my position as a captain on the Boeing 767. It doesn’t seem fair to me. I have held this position for over three years, well before the merger was even contemplated. I sigh and think of the alternatives . . . there aren’t any. I will sell the boat and maybe my house too.
I consider the struggle I have had at home since we moved back from Toronto. Another weight.
I think of security personnel around the world who, since the hijacked planes which destroyed the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, began treating pilots and flight attendants like we were the ones who committed the attacks. Were we not among the victims? I have had tweezers and nail clippers confiscated like they were bazookas and rocket launchers. I have had security personnel physically search me, stating, “We don’t want you to have anything that will give you control of the aircraft.” Where is the logic? Won’t someone explain to these people that as the captain of the aircraft I am in control! I don’t need tweezers to commit terrorist attacks; I just need them to pull my nose hairs! I shake my head with incredulity.
As I stare out over the majestic coastline, my somber mood deepens and I feel a deep, searing pain as I think of my colleagues who perished in the terrorist attacks of September 11. The thoughts horrify my very soul. I imagine the violent realities . . . slit throats . . . innocent men and women, bleeding to death . . . gasping for life . . . because of some zealot. Snorting in disgust, I recall that these acts were all done under the guise of religion. How pathetic . . . no wonder no one wants to hear about God these days . . . what a crazy world.