"Walked away
heard them say
"poisoned hearts will never change"
walked away
again"
(AFI - The Leaving Song)
heard them say
"poisoned hearts will never change"
walked away
again"
(AFI - The Leaving Song)
The first words I heard when I woke up seven Kilometres over the Pacific ocean. I've slept through the whole flight, almost six hours. Air Canada, Paris - Vancouver, Airbus A-340, Tailnum-...hey, what do I need that info for? I don't need to memorize long haul routes, since I won't ever sit at the controls of such a thing. Who would let me, anyways? After all that happened...
I get my seat into the upright position and dare to take a glimpse out of the window.
Okay, it looks like the US west coast and judging by our altitude, we're on approach to CYVR - Vancouver, my new home.
A quick look at the display of my MP3 player reveals that irony can strike hard...very hard: "But Home Is Nowhere". AFI is too damn right...
A flight attendant takes me back into reality.
"Excuse me sir, could you please go back to your assigned seat?"
A mumbled "Yes, sure" is the only thing that has been coming over my lips for almost six hours. Loneliness is a strange thing...
Back on my seat, the window grabs my attention again.
Circling. Seems to be a busy morning...
"This is my line, this is eternal
How did I ever end up here?"
How did I ever end up here?"
AFI drags me back into the darkest corners of my mind. How did I end up here? Good question. After being an "airline whore" say serving here and there in Europe, but without staying for too long; I seemed to have found the ideal job at Air France Regional. Shuttling people back and forth throughout France, the left seat in ATRs and CRJs...it was pure bliss...
Until that day when that old guy in his warbird decided that my ATR was a STOL plane, when he taxied his rustbucket onto the runway. Not amazing that he didn't survive a head-to-tyre collision with my ATR's main wheels. The rest of the warbird was quite intact, except for a missing canopy and windshield. Needless to say that a propeller isn't healthy for an ATR's fuselage either.
I landed my ATR without further trouble. For my passengers, I was a hero. But for Air France, I was just a lousy pilot who made a mistake that cost the life of a veteran. The EASA declared me innocent, but one of Air France's administrators said that I damaged their reputation with an attack on the national history of France.
I got fired the next week.
"Wake up
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup"
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup"
System Of A Down gets my thoughts back to Earth, into an aircraft on final over Vancouver. Vancouver? Have I really missed that much? Completely forgot to take a look at the city. Never mind, got enough time for that later...
"This is the new sound
just like the old sound
just like the noose wound
over new ground"
just like the old sound
just like the noose wound
over new ground"
New sound? Old sound? Too damn right. I consider setting up a statue for Rage Against The Machine for a second or two, before the thought strikes me that I'm en route to my new job.
Air Canada. Regional flights. Different country, same job. Flying CRJs. I always preferred turboprops, but I can't expect too much with that shadow on my past.
Clapping hands rip me out of my thoughts. Applause for an off-center landing. Idiots. But what do they know?
Okay, what to do next? First, get the bit of baggage into my new appartment in downtown Vancouver, then visit some supermarkets and grab the most necessary stuff and finally get a glimpse of the city. Sounds like a plan.
The maple leafs on the tails of the other aircraft grab my attention and suddenly, with a single strike of their lyrics, Muse blows all the dark clouds in my head away.
"It's a new dawn its a new day it's a new life for me
And I'm feeling good"
And I'm feeling good"
Too damn right...
