“Who is this Matt guy?” I heard him ask another captain. “I don’t get it. Every day I fly with a different reserve pilot. I guess no one ever wants to fly with me again.”
Again? As in, a second time? And thus was raised the big red flag.
Within a minute and a half in the same cockpit, I understood.
He was far too important. I was just the necessary body in the second seat. Necessary only because the law says so. Certainly not because of anything I might contribute. I was just there to raise the gear, speak when spoken to. And listen to ridiculous ramblings.
He was the kind of guy who doesn’t hear unless he’s looking at you, and knows ahead of time you’re going to be speaking. The kind of guy who doesn’t follow standard operating procedures. Forget the experts who write the manuals and program the simulators. He knows a better way.
And he’s successful. So successful. It’s tax day, after all, and he had to write the IRS a check for $35,000.
Although, he then explained how he files quarterly, making April 15 rather insignificant. But that’s what you have to do when you build hotels, refurbish boats and spend your days on the links as a professional golfer. He owns four houses, don’t ya know? And an 81 foot yacht.
Yet, he still works at the same crappy airline as me.
Something doesn’t add up. Oh, and he was involved in the Iran/Contra scandal. Worked for Oliver North, I suppose. So, who can you believe? Maybe it adds up after all.
Whatever. I nearly took him out with a little hand sanitizer. I guess he’s allergic. Next time I’ll use it before we shake hands.