Long Way to Jakarta
Another short story I power-wrote
I looked at John in utter disbelief
"Wait what, seriously??" I said
"Yeah, sorry, man. Only one they had" said John
"So you expect me to fly from here in NYC to Jakarta in a fucking Douglas DC-9-88 (MD-88)? If I remember properly, these planes are so short range, that it can only travel 1/3rd of the distance to Jakarta or some shit. Transwede Airways operated DC-9-87s (MD-87s) from Fort Lauderdale, Florida-Stockholm, Sweden via Gander, Canada, and Oslo, Norway (it's true, look it up)." I said
"Sorry man, but the 777s, 747s, and 767 are taken" he said
I collapsed groaning in frustration, unwillingly accepting defeat. So much for a non-stop flight to vacation in Jakarta. At least I have myself a flying thing, or some shit? I knew John Devons tried his best, and I appreciated, but it still sucked
Welp, time for an indirect flight there.
I packed my belongings, and loaded them into the Douglas DC-9-88 (MD-88) cockpit later that evening via the aircraft's built-in rear air-stair. Fuck the baggage compartment, I'd rather my belongings near me in case I needed them. I had plotted the route. I remember that you can go to Asia in a short range aircraft via Russia, but I would need to head north to Seattle from Los Angeles, and then to Alaska. Then I'd have to cross China to reach Jakarta. Why head north when east is more direct? Therefore my flight plan went like this: New York City-Los Angeles-Honolulu-Tamuning-Manila-Jakarta. The closest point from A to B is a straight line, and this was the straightest line possible, after all, yes? Therefore, it sounds like a plan, yeah?
The next day I set off on my trip, entering with the same rear air-stair I loaded my stuff on with. Departing Laguardia, I am lucky that I safely took off after neglecting to check on my navigational instruments (the metalwork beneath the airport messes with your navigational instruments, hence why they put a "check compass" sign on the runways). The trip to Los Angeles was uneventful, and I plunged into deep thought, and my mind started to go back into the past...
I was no longer 24 looking 19 (friends say it's because I have chubbier cheeks than usual for my age). I was 16 again. And I was heading home from school. Just another of them shitty high school days. I didn't want to come home because I knew what was at home: more family dysfunction, another of innumerable arguments. Tonight it ended up with the living room lamp smashed to pieces (lightbulb smashed as well), and a heavily cracked glass pitcher. Random shit strewn everywhere. I went and hid in my room, where I mechanically finished homework, and surfed the internet, longing, and dreaming of a better life.
Why the fuck does New York City have no quiet backwoods, and the closest ones in upstate or in Long Island safely out of reach? Nature calms the stressed out folk, but what about the ones who can't reach it? I peered out the window, the wind blowing in my face, up into the grey late autumn sky of mid-November, still dreaming, and trying to see a better life in the short day, the mid afternoon sky already starting to darken, and just hoping, hoping for that one damn day when life gets better so I no longer had to look for it, to search for it in the grieving autumn sky.
The memories came back. I was long at peace with them, but they were still, in an essence, not pleasant. And even now, these memories were causing me to tear up heavily. I quickly sucked them tears up, and noticed my hands just violently trembling, like I was going cold turkey with a drug addiction, on the yoke (I never use autopilot, because fuck autopilot); noticing it could lead to potential damage to the aircraft, making it steer back, and forth, back, and forth. I steadied them paws, and continued my flight onwards to Los Angeles.
I never left the aircraft while it was at LAX. I wanted to leave A.S.A.P., wanting no part in Los Angeles. I was wiped mildly, although I imagined I would be wiped out when the journey started, and took a quick nap in the seats. 25 minutes after my plane was fully refuelled, I departed LAX uneventfully. No sleeping while flying, and my mind continued to dig into the past. I was at peace with them, so what's the pain in looking at them in a rearview mirror of my mind?
And onwards I went. This time I was 17. Family dysfunction was still there to this day. My big sister wasn't at home to start them arguments. I found myself by my mom, who went on about how we might not make ends meet, especially with my sister consistently breaking stuff around the house. She said it again, and again, and again, that it became quite an easy thing to remember. Maybe not the innumerable individual times that they happened, but as a whole, hard to forget.
I snapped back to the present day. I wasn't tearing anymore, just sitting in solemn silence while grimly reliving the haunting past. Honolulu was 85 minutes away. Perhaps time to communicate with ATC soon?
Night descended on me while approaching Honolulu. If I had one of them damn long rangers, I'd be in Jakarta in a few more hours. But hell no. Count tomorrow to involve crossing to Guam, and Manila, then finally Jakarta. I looked solemnly at the night sky out the eyebrow window. Originally supposed to assist in aligning the runway, they were unpopular for adding glare into the pilot's eyes. Contrary to popular belief, they were NOT used for celestial navigation, but looking at the falling night sky, eh, maybe they could be used as such. Maybe I can attempt old school celestial navigation, aircraft style. That would definitely be fun, I think.
When I landed at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, I got out to stretch, and take a walk. I also opened all passenger doors (I keenly alerted maintenance to not wheel a stairway to any of them) to let some fresh air inside, get the musty trapped indoor out. Just ventilate all that shit out. Yes the open rear air-stair counted as a ventilation hole too. I got out, and wandered the airport - I worried going into Honolulu will take time coming back, since I still wanted to depart to Jakarta A.S.A.P. I will continue into the night, since I was too thoughtful to feel tired tonight. My unexpected onslaught of thoughts, and memories played into my inverovertedness, and I figured, life's too short to dive deep into the mind, so why not? How short the duration of life when put into perspective!
I continued into the night, and soon fell into my mind again. I admit my despair of having to fly halfway around the world in a short-range aircraft opened the floodgates of despairing thoughts, which brought forth memories associated with them thoughts, but now I only saw them as thoughts, and memories. Neither positive nor negative. Neither happy, or sad. Neither despairing nor hopeful. Just thoughts, and memories. Just writing on the page of the book that is my life. And old unpleasant tales revisited because of that.
But it would be wrong to say that it was only unpleasant thoughts coursing in my hyperactive mind. A warm and cozy one came from the back, but not before the associated one that preceded it. I turned off the cockpit lights so I would be swathed in starlight from above (and, well, the lights from the avionics panel, but don't ruin the romantic imagery!!).
I went back the furthest in this one, the furthest back I went for the whole journey. I was 13, and I ran into a 19 year old guy down in Charleston, South Carolina. He was talking flying.
"So, I'm finishing training soon, and I'll be certified afterwards" he said to a stranger that he later introduced to me as Michael Carpenter (he and I became friends too)
"Oh ok" replied that guy
"See you" he said
I peered at him curiously, absorbing every word he said in interested curiosity. He noticed me, and said, "hey, what you looking at?"
I broke into a cold sweat, nervous. He seemed to notice, and tried to comfort me, saying, "Just curious, you're looking at me?"
I timidly nodded. "Sorry, what you said got my curiosity"
"Oh, it's ok. Like flying, aviation, this stuff?" He said
"Well, sort of, always curious how you can do it, I mean, yeah..." I said borderline inaudible, but just barely
"Oh huh. You should be a pilot then" he said
"Dunno yet" I shrugged "I'm only 13"
"Well, if you do, do it. Nice to meet you man, Carson Samuelson" he said
"Kun JiangWei, or Zechariah Kun" I said
"Nice to meet you. Say, there's a nice burger joint around the corner, wanna join?" He said
"I guess?" I said still timidly
In retrospect, the apt term for him is "extrovert". I'm ambivert, leaning to introvert. And what an extrovert he is. We went, and he bought lunch for both of us. He revealed himself to be a student pilot, learning apprentice style. He was flying a skydiving aircraft for practice. He expressed hope to see a career in commercial aviation, and I wished him nothing but the best for all his future endeavours. We became close friends since
Ok, second thought. You see, we stopped seeing each other when I was 14. And our reunion was most unexpected. Fast forward to July before my 18th birthday, and I was wandering the City. The City, and my old childhood flat in Rego Park are all just memories now. And my dysfunctional family too. I sat down in a diner in Brighton Beach, and sat there, lost in my thoughts.
A person came up to me, and asked, "seat empty?" I replied "I'm the only one here, make yourself at home"
He proceeded to sit in front of me. I peered up, and exclaimed to myself, that's impossible!" He heard, and said, "what?" I replied, "Carson, is that you?"
"Yes, do I know you? - wait, Zechariah?" He said
I nodded. "Yeah, it's me, remember?" I said
He peered eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, it's you!"
"It's me, yeah" I said
We proceeded to have a conversation together. He had since become a commercial pilot, and flew regular scheduled airline flights, and was beginning a vacation day that day. I congratulated him, and he humbly thanked me back.
"Still interested in flying?" He asked
"Yeah, not as a career though. The stress it brings is what made it not the right one for me. I graduated high school this June. I've had a hard time, surviving a dysfunctional family. Now that high school's ended, I feel that I finally can come back alive again" I said
"Nice. Good to know" he said
"Yeah, thanks. You know, I did wish you were there, even though I didn't expect to run into you today, let alone ever again" I said
"Aw, thanks!" He said
"You're still awesome, after all these years" I said
"Oh, thanks!" He replied
When we finished eating, and exited the diner, I caught him in one of my giant hugs (boy was he surprised at it). We hung out in the city some more, and he left.
We stayed in touch after that, and one day I popped him the million dollar question: "although I'm not interested in making a career out of this, but can you teach me how to fly?" He gladly consented, and became a fine mentor to me until I mastered being a pilot.
I felt liberated knowing how to fly. I became eager to use training materials pilots used to type-rate. One of them was the DC-9-80 series (MD-80s). I ended up flying one to see how well I performed in it, and I passed with flying colours. Too bad it's only recreational flying, I'm sure I would've made a good career out of it, but the stress that came with it was not for me.
I peered at the horizon to see the sun rising, bathing my face in a brilliant gold hue. I knew it meant that I would be approaching Antonio B. Won Pat International Airport really soon.
I landed at the time right when the sun was rising over Guam, and remembered that this meant that it was almost high noon for my girlfriend back in Tennessee. I called her, and, to my surprise, she picked up.
"Squish, is that you?" she said
"It's me, Hadassah Mullner (I sometimes say her full name playfully, annoyedly, amusedly, or a mix of the 3. It was just annoyedly this time). Remember the sun is rising here in Guam, even if it near evening at your Tennessee or some shit" I said
"Oh, ok. How's the trip?" She said
"Best I can, considering how I have to hop islands to get there" I said
"Ok then. Have fun" she said
"Yeah. See you" I said
I went back in, and took a power nap in the forward cabin. The maintenance crew finished refuelling 47 minutes before I woke up, and I uneventfully prepared to depart.
Noon was approaching upon the sky when I took off again. I looked down. The Pacific Ocean glistened in the sunlight, reflecting the rays, and glowing a beautiful turquoise blue. I almost lamented that I was not in it swimming. How I love the ocean!!
And my mind flashed back to another 2 related memories. It was June before my 22nd birthday.
I was driving down the road in my 1971 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, my Browning 1911, and Walther P38 holstered by my foot next to the accelerator. I realised the stupidity of keeping holstered guns by my feet because I can't quickly reach for them in case of danger, I pulled over, and moved them into the driver seat hidden underneath my ass by sitting on them. The radio was set to play "Sugar, Sugar" for the fifteenth time with me untiringly singing along. I was heading to this shooting range I loved so much I now frequented it. I eventually decided to switch it up, and played "Return to Sender", and "Bossa Nova Baby" for the remainder of the journey, both of which I also sang along to.
Pulling up to the range, I joined my friends in a few shooting matches, and of course, I flattened their asses. Then, that's when I saw Hadassah arrive. She asked if anybody wanted to compete. Everyone agreed, and she ruthlessly flattened them, in a word. She came to me last, because I was quiet, only nodding silently once every so word.
"So, quiet one likes to try?" She said
"Eh, sure, why not?" I replied curtly, dragging my 8th cigarette
"Oh! Quiet one talks!" She teasingly said
"Since I don't have a crumpled paper ball to toss at you, envision me holding one" I said, playfully pantomiming tossing a paper ball. She playfully pantomimed back getting hit by the paper ball, giggling.
She continued being competitively ruthless with me, and because of that, came close to winning, but I was the champion.
"Wow, you're a true fighter" she said
"I just don't like getting my ass flattened because I prefer having a round, squishy, bouncy ass instead of a flat ass" I said
She chuckled. "Ok" she said
We took each other's numbers, and texted. Then we got close. We visited each other's hometown, and my second thought was the time right after she went to my NYC late November. I was 22.
I was sitting on a bench in Red Hook, waiting, waiting, patiently drawing on my 7th cigarette. Finally she showed up.
"Ok, you win. I was wrong" she said
"I can't believe you couldn't take a native New Yorker's words that the subway was shit. How was coming down here from Jackson Heights?" I said
"Oh, it's terrible! I didn't bother taking the E to Court Square to take the G direct here, like you advised best to do, so I took the F here via Manhattan. Good Lord is the afternoon train crowded! I thought I was going to be squashed to death (now you know what I dealt with in high school, I said in my mind), and then the BUS, and then the fucking BUS, oh, I stood in such a long line that 3 busses filled to the brim, people fighting for a spot, before I could get on, and again, I was squashed almost to death! I will listen and never take public transit here again, if I ever come back! Never really liked this place" she said
"Now you know why I want out of this God - damned city" I said
"Yeah, just yeah" she said
We deep-kissed each other, and proceeded to go to the restaurant that I told her was amazing, and would have dinner at. She enjoyed it too, I daresay.
The last major time we had a conversation when I moved from New York City to Lansing. She knew how much of a break I needed from the damn city, and encouraged me, supporting me moving.
Upon landing at Ninoy Aquino International Airport, I once again opened all doors, as well as the air-stair to ventilate (and once again, alerting maintenance not to wheel a stairway to any of the doors), even if it is the last city before my destination, Jakarta, and stayed in the aircraft, worrying that going into Manila will prevent me from departing A.S.A.P., as I still wanted to reach Jakarta soon as possible. I took another power nap, and woke up 45 minutes after maintenance finished.
I uneventfully departed, but excited, because I finally was able to reach my destination. I pondered at all that happened flying to Jakarta. Why did I bother stopping over at Manila when I could've went to Jakarta directly from Tamuning? It's as if I somehow instinctually predicted that I would stop at Manila to take a power nap so I could fully enjoy plopping down on a Jakarta beach.
You know what, maybe it wasn't so bad that I was forced to fly halfway across the earth in a short-range aircraft. I was forced to entertain myself by diving deeper into my mind than I would've on a long range aircraft. Like the many stops I went through to reach my end destination, I had changed from the living death teenager to someone who was truly alive. First it was reuniting with a friend from happier times, who seemed to slip away into the void when the happiness from my childhood life died. Then it was finally meeting the girl of my dreams. And they helped me, they helped rediscover the joy that I thought had irreversibly dies and would never come back. While I didn't enjoy all of those memories, as not all of them were pleasant, they were now signs, marks of the past to show who've I've become. And I can see how much a changed, improved person I was now, and how much I changed. Looking back, a retrospective, showed me who've I've become, and an encouragement to keep changing for the better, no matter how radical the improvement. I'm stronger now from surviving them, and I can now survive anything more life piles on me, and they only will make me stronger. After all, I suppose it's not about where one is going, but about how one is going to get there.
I breathed a sigh of satisfaction landing at Soekarno-Hatta International Airport. Not soon later, I entered Jakarta, keeping my belongings on the plane, where I intended to sleep in so I don't have to find a hotel. Soon after that, I was on the beach, walking down the waterline, and gazing out to sea. I reflected at all that went down in my mind while flying, and smiled. My life had changed beautifully. No regrets now, I had nothing to lose, and am happy with how the change swept through my life like the waves, how the change swept in a happier life as surely as the waves swept in items from the deep, occasionally such waves lucky enough to bring such things ashore. I determined that I needed more water, and waded to deeper waters, towards the horizon, the fine line in the distance that divided sea from sky, divided one blue sphere from another, and would disappear, its use no longer existent the day the end of times came forth, when the sky rejoined the sea, and blue was reunited with blue.