Stars Fell on Trieste

by M. Alan Marr

  “I’ll be here with bells on. Cheerio!”

  The receptionist watches Matt sashay out of the building. She looks at Steve, who is typing a text, and says rather incredulously, “You hired that guy?”

  Steve finishes texting and then calmly looks at her and speaks very pleasantly. “Tina? The very next time I hear that you’ve been rude to him, made a comment about him, or that you’ve even given him a sideways glance, I will move that 767 and floatplane over to the Atlas ramp across the field. And when the president of Jet Support asks me why he lost our business, I will tell him it’s because of you.” While that sinks in, he adds, “That man graduated from Yale and is one of my pilots. You show him some respect.” Steve leaves the desk area and heads toward the ramp to start his initial preparation for tomorrow’s flight and to call the crew. Tina is frozen in time as her job flashes before her eyes.

  Matt gets into his Mini Cooper and rests his head against the steering wheel. He closes his eyes and starts crying. “Thank you, God. Thank you.” He composes himself, wipes his eyes, takes a deep, confident breath, and then drives away.

  Before Steve admonished Tina, he texted a single group message to all Oasis crew members: STBY 4 FaceTime. He returns to the 767 casually to give his crew time to get in front of a computer. Steve climbs the airstairs with a smile and slight swagger, confident Tina will never bother Matt again. He grabs his notes and walks into the boardroom and powers up the communications suite and sets up the video conference with the crew. One by one, faces appear on the wall screen. Everyone is present. Franz and Milo are together in front of their computer. Harrison and Annette appear together as well.

  Steve begins the meeting. “Okay, listen up, guys.”

  “And girl,” Jen interjects with mild attitude.

  “Hey, I’m a girl,” Annette objects.

  “And girls,” Steve says with fake annoyance.

  “Thank you,” Jen replies, batting her eyes.

  “We have a new first officer,” Steve says, holding up Matt’s file with his picture clipped to it. “Matt Thompson. Yale grad and solid résumé. Atlanta resident.”

  “What’s his story, Boss?” Harrison says.

  “You’ll understand when you meet him.”

  “I think I know him,” Franz says. “Is that Mattsy Thompson? AKA Skinny Merle from New York?”

  “That’s him,” Steve says.

  “Skinny Merle?” Jen says. “You hired a drag queen?”

  “No, Jen, he’s not a drag queen.” Steve pauses. “Well, I don’t know, he might be. He’s just a little . . . effeminate.” Steve puts the file down and looks at his crew on the screen. “Listen, there’s more to this than you know. And definitely not what you might be thinking. His last company turned out to be some sort of evangelical hellhole. They didn’t fire him because they didn’t want to risk a lawsuit. Instead, they made his life difficult. So much so, he finally quit.”

  “That sucks,” Jen says compassionately.

  “Yeah,” Harrison echoes the sentiment.

  “Anyway,” Steve says, “the boys found out about it, and we hired him.”

  Jen realizes Dev and Chaz rescued her the same way. Finally, she shakes her head. “God, they’re nice guys.”

  “I’m glad you’ve realized that.” Steve smiles. “So, Matt is part of this crew now. And trust me, guys, we’re going places.”

  “I’ll be happy to orient him with the cabin and galleys,” Annette says.

  “Is that the line you used on Harrison?” Jen jokes.

  “Hey, it worked.” Harrison laughs.

  “Moving on,” Steve says with a smile. “We’re flying tomorrow. Report at 0800.”

  “Where to this time, Boss?” Harrison says.

  “Wyoming, and a couple of stops in Canada.”

  Franz speaks up. “Milo and I will go shopping today. Will there be ground power on the aircraft?”

  “There will,” Steve says. “In fact, I’m going to spend the night aboard so we can keep her powered up.”

  “In that case, we’ll drop by today and do the cabin check before we shop,” Franz says. “I’ll still bring in all the perishables tomorrow, along with the boys’ luggage, but I’ll make sure you’ll have something to eat.”

  “Good,” Steve concurs. “Jen, you can show Matt the exterior preflight.”

  “Will do.”

  “Harrison, take him through the cockpit prep.”

  “You got it.”

  “I’ll fly the first leg out. Harrison, you’re in the right seat. We’ll put Matt in the jumpseat for observation. Jen will fly the next leg, and then Harr. Depending on how it goes, maybe we’ll put Matt in the seat for some en route training.”

  “Does he have a uniform?” Franz says.

  “Shit, I forgot about that.”

  “If you text me his number, I’ll call him and make sure he’s properly set up,” Franz offers.

  “Thank you, Franz.” Steve looks over his notes. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be out, but let’s configure for two weeks, just to be safe.”

  “Any special requests?” Franz says.

  Steve interjects, “I’m sure we’ll all be happy with whatever you want to make, Franz.”

  ***

  The next day comes around quickly. Steve set the alarm in the Captain’s Quarters to wake him at 0700 to give him time enough to shower and shave in the corporate terminal locker room and change into uniform before anyone else arrives. One of the many things Steve loves about the Captain’s Quarters is that he has seven crisp, starched uniform shirts hanging in the closet, along with fresh sets of pants, two jackets, cold weather and rain gear, and even spare pairs of shoes, boots, and sleepwear.

  Matt arrives early and parks his Mini Cooper in the parking lot inside the fence at the corporate terminal. In his head, he is entering the building in slow motion. His new uniform was expertly fitted yesterday under Franz’s supervision at a Midtown tailor. As Matt approaches the desk where Snotty Tina is working, she looks at him and very professionally says, “Good morning, Mr. Thompson.”

  “Yes,” Matt says with a smile, “it certainly is.”

  Steve is outside the plane signing the fuel chit and sees Matt approaching on a golf cart driven by one of the ground crew.

  “Good morning,” Steve greets him.

  “Captain, my captain! I hoped I’d be the first one to arrive.”

  “Not so.” Steve smiles, aware Matt wants to make a good first impression. “I wanted to make sure everyone else was here before you arrived.”

  Franz is supervising the loading of provisions next to the belt loader going up to the forward cargo hold on the right-hand side of the aircraft. Jen and Harrison are outside as well and watch as Matt steps off the golf cart, sets down his bags, and looks around.

  Steve hands the clipboard back to the fueler and approaches Matt and calls the other pilots over. “Guys?”

  “Morning!” Matt calls out and waves amiably.

  “Matt, come meet the pilots,” Steve says. “Jen Spangler, Harrison Franklin, this is Matt Thompson.”

  Matt strikes a dramatic pose to break the ice, making Harrison and Jen smile. Time now to get to work.

  “Jen is going to take you through the exterior preflight,” Steve says. “Then Harrison will go over the cockpit prep with you.”

  “Yay,” Matt says. “I’m so excited!”

  Steve heads up the airstairs with Harrison, leaving Jen and Matt by themselves.

  Jen begins the preflight walk around, chatting with Matt along the way. “What were you flying before?”

  “Falcon 900,” Matt replies.

  “Nice.”

  “It was until the company got ruined.”

  “I heard,” Jen says. “Have you met Dev and Chaz?”

  “I met Chaz once a few years ago, but not Dev.”

  “They’re great,” she says, and then adds, “They rescued me too.”

  “Rescued?”

  “I don’t kn
ow how, but they knew my airplane was being quietly sold out from under me and offered me a job.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Basically,” she says. “Steve and I were in college together. He knew Harrison from a previous job. How’d they find out about you?”

  Matt thinks about the question. “I don’t know. I barely started looking for a job when Steve called me out of the blue.”

  “Weird.”

  “So we’re like those sad-sad kittens on the SPCA commercial,” Matt says as he rests his chin on the backs of his hands.

  “Yeah, we’re pathetic throwaways.” Jen laughs. “Okay, kitten, let’s preflight this bird before they send us back to the pound. Starting at the nose gear: taxi light, hydraulic lines for nosewheel steering . . . ” Jen continues pointing out the various components to examine on the preflight inspection. “Gear doors, safety bypass pin, landing gear downlock.” Jen moves around the right side nose section and points upward. “Right side pitot tubes, angle of attack sensor, stall warning vane.” Moving farther along the side, she adds, “Static ports. Oh, that’s a RAT.”

  Matt looks around the ground, panicking. “A rat! Where!”

  Jen gives him a sarcastic leer and points up at the fuselage. “Um, Ram Air Turbine? The panel up there.”

  Matt exhales. “Whew, give a girl a heart attack on her first day why don’t you.”

  “Sorry.” Jen laughs. She likes him. “If we lose electrical power, the RAT deploys from the side of the fuselage and uses airflow to spin a small turbine to generate power.”

  “Very cool.”

  “Once it’s deployed, you can’t retract it until you’re on the ground. It’s also noisy, so don’t inadvertently hit the switch.” She continues aft. “Main cargo hold. Franz?”

  The belt loader is set up with cases of food and provisions being conveyed up to the open cargo hold. A ground crewman loads the supplies from the back of a van. Another crewman is in the cargo hold receiving the cases and stacking them in the bay. Milo is in the process of taking the cases from the cargo hold into the main galley.

  Franz looks up from his clipboard. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” Matt says warmly, having already reconnected with him yesterday at the tailor.

  “What’s for lunch, Franz?” Jen says.

  “Bread and water,” he jokes, then gets back to work checking off the provisions as they move along the conveyor belt. Franz is all business when it comes to provisioning.

  Jen points to the open cargo bay. “This cargo hold is only a fraction of the size of the ones on the airline version of the 767.”

  “I guess they don’t expect hauling much cargo on a private aircraft,” Matt surmises.

  “That, and we’ve got a lot of real estate below the main deck for the crew.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah. Come on,” Jen says. They walk around the belt loader and the SUV and resume a position near the fuselage. “This is the engine.”

  “Oh my God, really?” Matt laughs.

  Jen smiles. “Jump up into the nacelle. I’ll take your picture. Heavy jet right of passage.”

  Matt manages, with some effort, to hop up into the huge engine intake and stands up. The excursion leaves him out of breath. The enormous engine dwarfs Matt, who is standing with his arms and legs extended outward like a stationary jumping jack. Jen snaps a picture with her iPhone. She takes another one of Matt standing normally.

  “Nice shot,” she says, looking at the screen.

  Matt realizes he can’t get down. “This is awkward.”

  “Hey, muscleman?” Jen calls to the ground crew at the belt loader. “Little help, please?”

  Jen and the ground guy help Matt down out of the engine just as the last of the provisions are stacked onto the belt loader.

  “Thanks,” Matt says. “I have a long history of getting myself into sticky situations.”

  “No biggie,” Jen says and then continues. “This aircraft has a secondary single-point pressure refueling panel here at fuselage below the wing root, in addition to the standard one up under the wing.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “In case we fly into East Shitsville and the locals can’t reach the wing.” Jen opens the panel to show Matt.

  “I’ve been to East Shitsville,” Matt jokes as he examines the panel. “Fabulous nightlife.”

  Jen and Matt seem to have opposite wits that mesh well together. Hers is sardonic and a bit coarse; his is quick-witted and self-deprecating.

  “Air-conditioning system intakes, deflector doors . . . ”

  They move into the wheel well for the massive landing gear, where Jen points out all of the various hydraulic lines and fire control bottles and pneumatic lines.

  “I’ve never seen such a clean wheel well,” Matt comments.

  “For two hundred million, it better be,” Jen remarks before continuing on the preflight.

  The exterior preflight inspection lasts about thirty minutes. It’s a large airplane, and there is a lot to inspect. Matt takes mental notes along the way.

  As they near the right side of the enormous tail section, a second airstair truck slowly pulls up to the L4 (aft-most) aircraft door on the left side. One ground crewman stands below the aircraft carefully guiding the driver as he approaches the aircraft. After parking, both crewmen begin carrying the boys’ numerous suitcases up the stairs. One of the crewmen looks through the little window in the door and slaps the door twice, signaling Annette she is clear to open. Annette ushers them inside after the door opens fully. The bags are all placed in the large walk-in closet through the aft service access.

  “What’s going on there?”

  Jen waves at the crewman. “Luggage duty. Franz and Milo picked up the Louis Vuitton collection this morning.”

  “The what?”

  “The owners’ luggage. They must have bought out the whole store and then some.”

  “Those bags cost like twelve grand a piece.” He looks at Jen. “Think they’ll adopt me?”

  Jen laughs. “Get in line.”

  They go all the way around the airplane and end up at the point where they started. Jen takes one of Matt’s bags and leads him up the stairs into the plane. The cabin has taken on a whole new appearance. Yesterday it was basic white lighting; there were dark areas and shadows. Today, all of the interior is illuminated by not only the main lighting, but colored accent lighting above and below. No shadows. No dark spots. The cabin looks totally inviting and very much alive. Soft techno music plays overhead.

  “Whoa,” Matt says, looking around.

  “Steve didn’t have the pretty stuff on yesterday?”

  “No, just the standard boring lights.”

  “Flight Attendant Annette designs all the color combinations. Pretty cool, huh?” Jen smiles and continues. “Come on, let’s get your stuff stowed down in the crew deck.” Matt starts to head toward the spiral stairs. Jen stops him. “Crew stairs are this way.” She directs Matt forward toward the flight deck. “We get ramp crud on the nice stairs and Franz will make us scrub it with our toothbrushes. Then brush our teeth with them.” She laughs. Walking down the curving forward aisle, she motions to the left. “The cabin here on the left is the Captain’s Quarters.” She adds, loud enough for Steve to hear, “Off limits to us mere mortals!”

  From inside the Captain’s Quarters, they hear a loud, “Stay out of my room!”

  Matt’s eyes widen. “Understood.”

  “Across here is the forward lavatory, main cabin controls, printer, closets, and foyer lavatory.”

  “Is this one for passengers or crew?”

  “Anyone,” Jen says. “We call this Lav-1, as in Number One. So if you have to do Number Two, do it below deck in the crew lav.”

  “Ah, got it.” Matt laughs. “How many bathrooms are there?”

  “Ten. Two up here forward, the crew lav downstairs, there’s two more back by the boardroom, each stateroom has one, and then there’s the big
one in the Owner’s Suite. Dev and Chaz usually use the ones in the back. Crew stairs are right here, come on. Watch your step.” Jen and Matt carefully carry his bags downstairs to the forward crew rest compartment. Matt looks around and is impressed. He’s never seen anything like this before.

  “Four crew bunks down here,” Jen says. “Very comfy.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, for real.” Jen nods. “I tell you, it’s like climbing into the womb.”

  “Great, I always wanted to sleep in a big airborne vagina.”

  Jen laughs at that. “Franz and Milo are married; they share that bunk. You can’t pull Harrison and Annette apart, so they share that one. This one is mine, which makes that one yours. Steve has his own bunk upstairs in first-class.”

  “I get my own bunk?”

  “All yours.” Jen continues onward. “Next are crew stowage closets for your bags.”

  Each closet door has an engraved placard with a crew member’s name. Matt is surprised to see his name already on one of the doors.

  “Looks like that one is yours.”

  Matt opens the door, and there are balloons and confetti inside with a sign that says welcome aboard. “Oh my God, you guys are great!” Matt says. “That’s enough to make a girl cry.”

  “I didn’t get balloons,” Jen says with a frown.

  “Honey, you don’t need balloons.”

  Jen smiles. “Moving on.”

  They leave the crew bunk area to the passageway opposite the cargo bay. They hear Franz announce: “Cargo door closing” from the other side of the bulkhead. The sliding interior door to the cargo hold and the crew passage is open, and Milo is carrying the last of the boxes of provisions from the hold to the Main Galley.

  Matt peers into the cargo hold just as the cargo door seals and locks, shutting out the daylight pouring into the passage. Jen slides the hatch to the cargo hold closed. She sees Milo in the galley, about to come down the passage, and calls out. “I closed the hatch, Milo.”

  He shouts “Grazie, Jenna,” and then gets back to work in the galley.

  “It’s a fire door,” Jen explains. “The cargo bay has a fire suppression system, so the interior hatch has to stay closed all the time, even on the ground.”