I had planned on re-launching this site in November 2015. The tasks needed to re-launch always take a back seat as life takes it’s course. Today, however, as I sat waiting on the tarmac for my flight to take-off, re-launching the site bumped out all the work I had planned for my 3-hour flight because it turned out I had the best seat on the plane – 17B. The middle seat of an A321S, and I knew I had to share this awesome travel story.
As I boarded, I wasn’t really excited to be stuck in a middle seat to work for 3+ hours – who would be? But, as we waited for clearance to take-off, all of that changed. I was sitting next to the most amazing gentleman. Any last hope of work getting done went out the window when he ordered a coffee with Bailey’s as soon as we were in the air. He officially became my favorite airplane seat buddy in my 20 years of travel.
My seat buddy, RF, wore a gold globe and anchor pin on the lapel of his caramel coat so I had a sneaking suspicion he was a Marine. He confirmed that by entertaining me with stories about his three tours in Vietnam as an helicopter mechanic in the Marine Corps. The Bailey’s order led us to a story about the only time he was given ‘legal liquor’ (brandy) from a Navy corpsman so he’d warm up after they pulled him out of the water from a helo crash. He was on two aircraft that crashed into the ocean during his career.
Eventually, I shared that I had been in the Navy. We bonded over barely cooked ‘snotty’ eggs served by Navy cooks (now called culinary specialists) and tourist spots we’d both visited all over Italy even though it was decades apart. One day, RF and his good friend, OF, were going to go visit Rome but OF didn’t want to go. Neither spoke much Italian but RF bought tickets from the agent. “Due biglietti a Pompeii” he told me proudly, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He and OF boarded the train for Rome and after all day visiting Pompeii OF said, “Gosh, that Rome is an old city!” At this, RF let out a chuckle, one that only old men can. The kind that reminds you of your grandpa and warms your heart so you can’t help but smile with him.
During one of our breaks from chatting, RF started reading a German book printed in 1943, only 7 years after he was born there. He emigrated to the US and eventually enlisted. He still carries his bootcamp photo in his wallet and boy was he a handsome young Marine. RF told me about the other two photos in his wallet. One of him after he received his commission and the other was from one of his three tours as a helicopter mechanic in Vietnam.
The photo was like a lot of the photos you see from the war. Three men posed casually, smiling, the looks on their faces not revealing the things they had seen. One of the men was RF. The other was a Vietnamese soldier they worked with. The third was his best buddy who was 19 at the time. He died on October 13th, 1962 and that photo was how RF kept him alive. He told me he missed “all the guys” but those who are still around get together every two years in August. This year they are going to Florida. One year, they got RF a gift. Floaty wings, since he ‘spent more time in the water than the air during his service!’ He let out that chuckle again.
After he retired from the Marine Corps, RF continued to work on engines for a private company. He spent 13 years living in hotels all over the world – China, Australia, Indonesia, Austria, the list was long. Where he hasn’t lived, he’s traveled to.
We reminisced about loving London and double decker buses, again decades apart. Their ship would pull into port in Southampton and they’d wear their uniforms to London. When they gave the bus drivers the coins for their fare, the drivers would make change from the belt dispenser. They give them back exactly what they’d paid.
“Those Brits are good people. Those princes are good men, they’ve all served their country. The one flew helicopters!” RF was proud of the work he did on the helicopters. He used to fly with LBJ – “you know, the president.” RF told me all about how he (the president) would gesture with two fingers together. RF said it made him nervous and asked if I knew why – I had no clue. Turns out, it meant he wanted two fingers of liquor.
As it turns out, the pilot turning the engines off while we waited for clearance to take-off was not very smart. Starting the engine generates such high heat it takes off part of the coating. That means the blades only have a certain number of cycles they can be used for. This explanation was how our journey started.
RF and his stories reminded me of the best part of traveling – meeting people, hearing their amazing stories, and getting to know the world from their perspective. So with that, I couldn’t think of a better post to re-launch the site with! And who knows, the first week in April I don’t have anywhere to be, maybe I’ll go to Dallas.
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