Destination Elk Pond

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

I set my alarm for six A.M. With the time change from my previous home, it was more like nine on my body’s internal clock. I was surprised that I’d slept so late, relatively speaking. I got up and tried to pee, unsuccessfully, with the stupid morning wood. I decided to grab a shower, and at the first moment the boner subsided, I pumped my fist in the air in victory, as I let a stream flow into the shower, and down the drain. I fooled my stupid p***s once again. Man 1, p***s 0.

I dressed in business casual, and as I was leaving, got a call from the moving company that my truck would be arriving by train, so it will be a bit later than the rest of my things. They would be here by the end of the week.

Edna was my host at breakfast. I ordered eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. “So, are there any interesting characters I’m going to meet during my career here?”

She took off her readers and folded them. “Watch out for the Edmond brothers. One flies a plane, the other a helicopter. Nice as pie one on one; ruthless as rabid skunks when paired up. Then there’s Cyrus. He’s a float plane man. Nuttier than a fruitcake, but a nicer person doesn’t exist.”

I wondered at the contradiction, but took it at face value. “You’ll meet your share of Eastern Air pilots coming and going. A few will be in to check you out.” She smiled and winked at me.

I knew exactly what she was suggesting. I just shrugged. I guessed I would check them out, too, when they came in, but that was my inside voice talking.

I got a cab to the airport, made my way to the flight service station, and asked for Bob Bryant. The place was fairly new, but the walls were painted a god-awful colour and it reeked of stale cigarette smoke. My vice was coffee, and the department provided us with massive jars of instant stuff. The telex machines were noisy, overgrown typewriters, and they were clacking out flight plans and weather reports. Because of this background noise, our headsets were huge cups that covered our ears to block out the external sounds.

“You must be the new guy. John should have given us a bit of notice, but then again, I don’t think I would either. I’m Wes, pleased to meet you.”

“Hi Wes, call me Sam. John would be the lucky winner I’m replacing?”

“Yep, the bastard swore he’d share his winnings with us all, if he ever hit the jackpot. In fairness, I got fifty bucks more than I had before. He did a kind of happy dance, and that was the last we heard or saw of him.”

As we chatted, a silver-haired man strolled in. He was shorter than me, but then again many are, but built solid. He thrust out a hand. A heavy Irish brogue hit me between the eyes. “You’d be Samuel Hare. I’m your new boss and station manager, Bob Bryant, but call me Robbie, please.”

“Sure thing Robbie, I’ll do that.” He noticed the puzzled look on my face.

“People around there think if you’re a Robert, they can call you Bob. If you’re a William, they call you Bill, or if you’re a Frederick, they can call you Fred. “

“Right, I got it, so you’d prefer Robbie. Done deal, sir.”

He slapped my back, took me around the counter, and showed me the flight plan telex, the weather telex, and all the paperwork we go through in the run of the shift. I also got to glimpse the radio console over Wes’s shoulder.

“Shifts here are eight hours each. Six shifts on, three off. Two evenings, four till twelve; two day shifts, eight till four; two midnights, twelve till eight, followed by three days off. Your first shift will be tomorrow at four. Think you’re ready?”

I nodded as I looked over the schedule, noting the airline flight times. I then walked outside to get familiar with the Stephenson screen, and all the weather data gathering equipment. I was excited to get started. After one last look around, I wandered back inside.

“Let’s get all the administrative stuff out of the way, and then you’re done for the day.”

“Hey Robbie, got any advice about where would be a good area to live?”

“Careful of the Constantains—they rent places on the north end. If you board or rent a place from them, keep an accurate inventory of everything you hold dear. Good people, but like magpies, they can’t seem to resist anything shiny. Other than that, I can ask around, but nothing comes off the top of my head.”

I got back to the hotel and used the embossed stationary to write letters home. I put the hotel as a return address, but I planned to rent a post office box first thing in the morning. I decided on dinner in the hotel restaurant, since Edna was still there and most likely the cook, especially since she referred to her sister as Botulism Betty.