“receptionist.”
Like most pilots, Lucas only came around shortly before a flight, so Heather never really had an opportunity to meet him. She wondered how a person she didn’t even know could capture her attention so fully. What did he have that made her become so self-conscious when he was around? It couldn’t merely be his uniform, because many others wore uniforms. She decided that it must be a simple physical attraction, but felt confident there was more to be discovered.
Heather’s work area wasn’t fancy or inviting for customers. The lobby area had a high ceiling with long fluorescent lights. The lights weren’t even recessed, but instead hung directly from the ceiling. The floor was a gray tile beginning to show wear. There were several chairs and a couch around the outside wall, but they, too, showed wear. They were really only there for transient pilots, so management didn’t find it necessary to spend money on quality materials. The walls had a few photographs of airplanes, but all of them were old and in need of dusting.
The lobby doors opened on the airport side of the building—the ramp, and in the back of the lobby a door opened into the hangar. A third door opened to the parking lot, and was referred to as the front, or “main,” door. When any two doors were opened at the same time, the lobby became like a wind tunnel, very cold in the winter and very hot in the summer. The receptionist’s desk was located behind a modest counter, and only displayed a few necessary pilot supplies. It also came with a small space heater and a fan, tools to deal with the extreme temperature fluctuations. In the summer, reps usually only wore enough to keep them modest. Such an arrangement became popular with the pilots, possibly ensuring that the situation would never be remedied.
Heather could clearly remember the first time she’d ever seen Lucas. He’d passed through the lobby, obviously on a mission. He stared directly ahead, looking so serious. He didn’t even notice Heather, and yet it seemed to her that she wasn’t seeing the real Lucas. She had no specific reason to think that; it was just a hunch. Later she found out that he’d had equipment problems that day—problems that needed immediate attention in order to deliver his cargo on time.
As Heather continued to reflect on the night that Lucas came into her life, she couldn’t help but wonder what life would have been like had she finished college. Working the second shift at a fixed-base operation wasn’t exactly what she thought life would be like at twenty-one. The working conditions weren’t very good and neither was the pay, although it did pay enough for her to afford a one-bedroom furnished apartment just six miles from the airport.
Many pilots passed through the lobby every night, and each added a little spice to what would otherwise be a humdrum job. Hardly a night passed without some hotshot pilot putting the make on her. Although not a particularly outgoing person, Heather didn’t mind the attention and realized that most of the flirting was nothing more than a guy’s attempt to relive his youth or pass the time while his plane was being serviced.
Evenings usually passed quickly, in part because of the traffic. There would generally be fifteen to twenty freighters passing through the operation a night, either taking a load somewhere or bringing one to St. Louis. With fifteen to twenty planes would come between thirty and forty pilots, each of whom often needed as much attention as his plane.
When asked, Heather described herself as an average gal who could be found in any mall on a Saturday night. She was also willing to admit that she probably received more compliments than the average person. She had even been encouraged to run for Miss Missouri by her friends, but decided she didn’t want the attention. Besides, most contestants were tall with long legs; she wasn’t convinced that a five-foot-six, 115-pound brunette would
Like most pilots, Lucas only came around shortly before a flight, so Heather never really had an opportunity to meet him. She wondered how a person she didn’t even know could capture her attention so fully. What did he have that made her become so self-conscious when he was around? It couldn’t merely be his uniform, because many others wore uniforms. She decided that it must be a simple physical attraction, but felt confident there was more to be discovered.
Heather’s work area wasn’t fancy or inviting for customers. The lobby area had a high ceiling with long fluorescent lights. The lights weren’t even recessed, but instead hung directly from the ceiling. The floor was a gray tile beginning to show wear. There were several chairs and a couch around the outside wall, but they, too, showed wear. They were really only there for transient pilots, so management didn’t find it necessary to spend money on quality materials. The walls had a few photographs of airplanes, but all of them were old and in need of dusting.
The lobby doors opened on the airport side of the building—the ramp, and in the back of the lobby a door opened into the hangar. A third door opened to the parking lot, and was referred to as the front, or “main,” door. When any two doors were opened at the same time, the lobby became like a wind tunnel, very cold in the winter and very hot in the summer. The receptionist’s desk was located behind a modest counter, and only displayed a few necessary pilot supplies. It also came with a small space heater and a fan, tools to deal with the extreme temperature fluctuations. In the summer, reps usually only wore enough to keep them modest. Such an arrangement became popular with the pilots, possibly ensuring that the situation would never be remedied.
Heather could clearly remember the first time she’d ever seen Lucas. He’d passed through the lobby, obviously on a mission. He stared directly ahead, looking so serious. He didn’t even notice Heather, and yet it seemed to her that she wasn’t seeing the real Lucas. She had no specific reason to think that; it was just a hunch. Later she found out that he’d had equipment problems that day—problems that needed immediate attention in order to deliver his cargo on time.
As Heather continued to reflect on the night that Lucas came into her life, she couldn’t help but wonder what life would have been like had she finished college. Working the second shift at a fixed-base operation wasn’t exactly what she thought life would be like at twenty-one. The working conditions weren’t very good and neither was the pay, although it did pay enough for her to afford a one-bedroom furnished apartment just six miles from the airport.
Many pilots passed through the lobby every night, and each added a little spice to what would otherwise be a humdrum job. Hardly a night passed without some hotshot pilot putting the make on her. Although not a particularly outgoing person, Heather didn’t mind the attention and realized that most of the flirting was nothing more than a guy’s attempt to relive his youth or pass the time while his plane was being serviced.
Evenings usually passed quickly, in part because of the traffic. There would generally be fifteen to twenty freighters passing through the operation a night, either taking a load somewhere or bringing one to St. Louis. With fifteen to twenty planes would come between thirty and forty pilots, each of whom often needed as much attention as his plane.
When asked, Heather described herself as an average gal who could be found in any mall on a Saturday night. She was also willing to admit that she probably received more compliments than the average person. She had even been encouraged to run for Miss Missouri by her friends, but decided she didn’t want the attention. Besides, most contestants were tall with long legs; she wasn’t convinced that a five-foot-six, 115-pound brunette would
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