EMMY'S PAST
Emmy thanks the young woman behind the counter and turns to leave. As she walks out the door her mind drifts to the events of the day. John's solo went extremely well. "He will make a wonderful pilot," Emmy thinks to herself.
Suddenly a blue Porsche speeds into the parking lot pulling into the empty space beside Emmy's Toyota Tacoma. Emmy stops just outside the door. A young woman throws open the driver's side door. It bangs against the passenger door of Emmy's vehicle making a crunching noise. Emmy cringes. While her vehicle is no Porsche, she has worked hard to attain everything she has acquired throughout her life. The young woman slams her car door and walks quickly toward Emmy not even realizing what she has done. Emmy contemplates bringing the incident to the woman's attention, but instead she casually allows the kayak paddle to fall into the oncoming path of this aggressive character just as the lady passes her. The lady is walking so quickly, the force of her motion causes the paddle to strike the door.
CRACK! "Watch it!" The young woman screams at Emmy.
Emmy smiles to herself as she turns away, saying nothing, and walks slowly toward her truck. "Oh, well," Emmy thinks. "I hate confrontations anyway." She checks out the passenger side door. A little paint has been chipped and there is a small depression. Emmy walks around the Toyota, gets in and starts the engine.
As she pulls out onto the highway, her mind returns to John's solo. She thinks about the excitement and enthusiasm that lighted up his eyes when she left him alone in the plane for the first time ever. This causes her to think back to twelve years ago when she first soloed at Elizabethton Municipal Airport back home in Tennessee. She remembers how she became involved with flying in the first place. She had been 20 years old at the time and was struggling to keep a two-year relationship from going down the drain. Her significant other had suggested that she take an introductory flight lesson. "Just to see if you like it," he had said. Emmy not only liked it, she loved it! It was the first time in her life she truly felt connected to something. She felt blessed to have found her niche in the world at such a young age. She took the "plane by the prop" so to speak and began her flight training with an intensity that eventually drove her lover away. She lived, breathed, slept, and ate "flying". That's all she wanted to do. That's all she wanted to talk about when she was with him. After another year of training at the local FBO and trying desperately to salvage the relationship, they finally went their separate ways. In order to immerse herself in training, she moved to Macon, Georgia and enrolled in Southeastern, a well-known flight school that was geared toward turning out career pilots. The focus that was required to get through the two-year program was so profound she never had a chance to work through the issues of the dissolution of the only intimate relationship she had ever had with a man. She was stuck and flying became the only outlet in which she could release her passions.
Emmy knows all this and ponders how she can possibly change her life as she turns off the road into the gas station. The Tacoma is nearly empty. She pumps the gas as the sky glows a bright red-orange. The sun has already set and Emmy never fails to savor a sunset. In fact, she constantly bangs into things because she's always watching the sky. Birds soaring, puffy clouds floating, and of course, planes flying always grab her attention. Those who don't know Emmy, which would just happen to be most people, think she's a klutz. A couple of her instructors at the flight school and a few of the guys at Savannah airport knew though. They had been in the cockpit with her, and they knew there was a grace and elegance about her that was uncommon, especially when it came to flying planes. She had graduated at the top of her class and was quickly picked up by Savannah Aviation as a corporate pilot. Many of the guys in her graduating class were envious. They thought the only reason she was hired was because she was a woman, and at the time, the imbalance between female to male pilots was tremendous. The FAA was pushing to get more women in the cockpit. The guys stroked their egos, telling themselves this was why she had gotten the job offer with so few hours under her belt.
Emmy finishes pumping the gas and walks inside to pay the attendant. The man behind the counter appears to be somewhat older than Emmy. His eyes are bloodshot and Emmy smells the faint odor of beer as she walks up to the counter. "I got $15 worth," she tells him as she places a ten and five on the counter.
The attendant grunts as Emmy turns and walks back to her truck. Her mind begins to organize tomorrow's agenda. She remembers she has an afternoon flight and needs to arrange to board her miniature schnauzer. "What was that number I saw at the store today?" she thinks to herself. "Oh, yea, 324-1191." She remembers the last four digits because they are the same as the Savannah control tower frequency.
When Emmy arrives home, she prepares a small garden salad and some vegetables. This month's edition of Flight Training came in the mail, and she curls up in her favorite chair and begins reading the articles and eating her dinner. She becomes so engrossed in the magazine, she forgets to feed Saucey, her 12-year-old dog. Saucey and flying came along about the same time and are the only things that have remained constant in her life for the past 12 years. As she feeds Saucey, she remembers once again to make a telephone call. She dials the number from memory, and the female voice that says hello on the other end is familiar.
"I need to arrange to have my miniature schnauzer boarded overnight," Emmy says as she attempts to place where she has heard the voice before.
The lady asks when Emmy would like to bring her dog and who had recommended that she board her pet.
Emmy explains how she came across the ladies number. "I was shopping in a sporting goods store in Savannah this evening and I saw this number posted on the counter in the store. This is 323-1191, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes" the lady replies. "You have the right number. I'm the owner of NatureScapes. You were shopping there this evening?"
"Yes. I bought a kayak paddle. Are you the lady that checked me out? I seem to recognize your voice." Emmy suddenly realizes she's talking with the woman who had hiked a large portion of the Appalachian trial.
"Why, yes, of course. I remember you. You nearly gave another customer a concussion with that paddle this evening. You're from Tennessee."
Emmy introduces herself and learns the lady's name is Anli. They make the boarding arrangements for Saucey and say goodbye.
After Emmy reads a couple more articles in the magazine, she rises from her comfortable chair and scratches Saucey gently behind her ears. "Got you all taken care of for tomorrow night. You'll be a good girl, won't you?" Emmy stretches, yawns and decides its time to go to bed. The next day starts at 5 a.m. - no different from any other day the past several years of her life. As she climbs into bed, she notices it 11 p.m. "Good," she thinks to herself. "Six hours of sleep is all I need to wear myself completely out so I can sleep tomorrow night."
