The Chair----revisited

[Kip Powick]

When I wrote about this strange meeting, I thought one of the most stressful times for many of us was the AC/CP pilot seniority merger,…. how wrong I was. To days events are much more chaotic than anyone could have ever perceived. Nothing I can say/write, or post will ever change the attitudes of the many who freely voice their opinion through this medium but as we approach the weekend, some probably stressed out more than others, take the time to consider just how fortunate each of us are.

It was close to noon but we managed to snag the last table in the “Food Court”. Two hours in any shopping mall is enough for me especially when we were there just to “look”. For some reason, known only to their gender, women like to “look”, men like to go in and “buy it and go home”. After a “Roll Up and you lose” cup of coffee, Scuba 02 decided she wanted to “look” some more and agreed to leave me in peace at the little table. I pulled out a travel brochure and let my mind drift to warm, deep, and clear water.

An electronic whirring noise caught my attention and I looked up to see a man in one of those electric wheel chairs heading for my table. He moved the chair in close to the table, looked at me and mumbled “OK?” I said, “Certainly and welcome to the dining center of the universe”. A weak smile, and his gnarled right hand jiggled the joystick and adjusted his chair a little closer to the table.

I would imagine this man was about 35-40 years old. He sat in his chair with his neck and head canted at a funny angle to the right. A dirty baseball cap with the Belleville Bulls logo sat on a shaggy mop of brown hair. A blue towel was laid over the right shoulder of his bomber type jacket and occasional dribbles of saliva collected on the towel and sank beneath the terry cloth. His pallor was that of an individual that didn’t get to see that much sunlight and the skin on his gnarled hands was almost translucent. Watery brown eyes stared across the table at me and it appeared that for brief moments he was looking right through me.

“Whatdaya do?”, he asked, and the question caught me by surprise. An odd way to start a conversation I thought. A million feelings and thoughts go through your mind when you are confronted by a severely handicapped individual and although it is probably a normal reaction, pity is not one that is supposed to be at the forefront. Here was a man in his prime, in a condition I wouldn’t attempt to understand and he probably just wanted to talk.

I tend to think that the profession I am in is one that many would like to be involved in but due to circumstances have not had the chance. Let’s face it, being an airframe driver is a great job and all of us that do it, know we have egos and keeping the ego in-check is more difficult for some than others. I felt that if I told him I was a pilot, it was sort of a cruel thing to do, I don’t know why, it just didn’t seem appropriate but then again I didn’t want to lie.. Humour to the rescue, so I said,” I’m a directional consultant for high speed aluminium tubing”. Maybe that would change the direction of the conversation.

((((((((for obvious reasons I have named the individual in this event , “Larry”)))))))

He grinned, a small stream of saliva cascading to the towel. “You’re a pilot !!! You don’t look like a pilot !!!. Are you a Military pilot!!!? What do you fly!!!? I flew airplanes once!!!!”

That wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting and the fact that he indicated he had flown aircraft meant we must have some common ground. I asked him what a pilot was supposed to look like and he himmm’ed and haaa’ed for a few moments, staring at his hand and when he looked up and saw that I was smiling we both laughed. Belleville/Trenton is a military area so his question about me being a military pilot certainly was logical. I gave him a brief history of my flying career and ended by stating that at the present time we were awaiting the outcome of negotiations concerning “seniority”. He said that he had flown on Air Canada and Canadian prior to his accident and that he really didn’t see any difference. He knew that AC had purchased CP.

Of course, in the back of my mind was the gnawing question concerning the statement he had made about flying airplanes himself. I didn’t doubt that he had, it was the question of what happened to put him this medical state. The conversation lapsed, an awkward silence, and Larry coughed, dribbled onto his towel and looked over at me. “You wanna know, don’t you?”

“It’s not important”, I lied, but I really wanted to know. We have all had that reaction to a car crash…terrible to look at but you just can’t take your eyes away and you want to know what happened. In an attempt to change the subject again, I asked Larry if he would like a drink. He said he wouldn’t mind a apple juice and that he would need a straw, no glass. I excused myself and walked over to Tim’s and bought a coffee, (didn’t win again), and an AJ with a straw. Now what do I do?? Can he open the bottle by himself, do I open it and he is annoyed because I think he is helpless??? There was nothing to do but lay the cards on the table. “Larry”, I said, “You are probably aware that this is an awkward situation for me. I don’t know how self sufficient you are and I don’t know what I should, or should not do”

Larry laughed, saliva running off the towel and onto his jacket. He coughed for a few seconds, gave me his lopsided grin and asked if I would take the lid off, put in the straw and he would do the rest. I sat down and once again wasn’t sure where the conversation would go. I think in the back of my mind I was secretly wishing Scuba 02 would show up and bail me out, but once again the vision of the car wreck came up……what happened to this man ?

Larry stared at the apple juice bottle and started. “ I was 22”, he said, “And things were looking pretty good for me. I never finished High School but I had a job working in house construction and one of the fellows I was working with was saving his money because he wanted to become a pilot and he was going to take flying lessons. I never thought about flying. I thought you needed to go to University for that and I knew it cost a lot of money…Me?? I was saving my money as I was gonna get married in about two years. Anyhow, my friend gets his licence, I think it allowed him to fly on nice days and a few months later he took me up for about half an hour…I puked my guts out but it was awesome”.

Larry stopped, his eyes seemed to lose focus and he appeared to be looking at something that was not there. I just glanced around and noticed two adults at the next table were also listening, you know the type, listening, but pretending not to listen. Larry picked up the bottle of juice with his one good hand, sucked on the straw for a moment, put the bottle on the table and continued.

“My friend said he would take me up again the following month, providing I put in a little cash. I thought it sounded like a good plan so took a bit of cash and handed it over. The next time we went up he let me hold that wheel thing and turn the airplane. I know I was no good and I think we shot down from where we were supposed to be but, my God, it was fun. I wasn’t sick that day and I knew I wanted to be a pilot. I told Anne, the girl I was going to marry, of my plan and she was not happy. She wanted to get married, as we planned, and if I spent my savings on flying lessons we would be getting married with nothing, so we would have to delay our wedding.” Larry stopped, coughed and his eyes seem to get misty. He took another drink and continued, “We musta argued and fought like wildcats over this flying thing and then suddenly she agreed with me and everything was going to be alright. That night we celebrated and I left her place in no pain, if you know what I mean??”

Larry moved the little joystick and the chair moved back a bit. He looked very uncomfortable, his head bent and eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights. His voice lowered to almost a whisper, perspiration was beaded on his forehead. His eyes welled up, the tears started, “ I woke up in the hospital……I hadn’t killed anyone but I was left like this,…. like this”, he whispered, “forever”. He paused, his chest heaving, saliva streaming onto the towel.

What was I supposed to say?? I could only imagine how his life was changed forever, all because of one self-inflicted, senseless act. “I’m sorry”, I mumbled. Neither of us spoke. Larry had “drifted” away again and I was very uncomfortable and at a loss for words. Larry seemed to regain his composure and told me that Anne had left him, he was pretty near a “full paraplegic” and had to have constant care giver support. He was living in a group home near Ottawa and they were attempting to find some kind of suitable work for him but as he said, “there’s not much I can do”. I wanted to tell him that there is a group that goes around telling school kids about the perils of drinking and driving but felt it really wasn’t my place and I was sure his support staff were well aware of all his options. He looked exhausted and we talked about a few other little things just before his caregiver showed up.

Once again, what do you say?? I shook his claw like hand, wished him well, and told him it had been nice talking to him. The caregiver thanked me for sitting with Larry and he pushed the little joystick on his chair and they left the Food Court, Larry’s ball cap just visible over the back of the chair. People were talking but all I could hear was the little electric motor whirring.

I stared at the travel brochure, seeing nothing, jut a blurred piece of paper. Mergers, Left Seat, Right Seat, Junior, Senior, Captain, First Officer, Numbers, Seniority……Why would any of us be stressed out over such insignificant little things……Life??? What do we know about life??? I sat there thinking about just how damned lucky so many of us are. I felt like running after Larry and apologizing because I had such a great life. My mind was reeling…I just stared at the paper and saw nothing, unable to focus, just thinking.

About 10 minutes later Scuba 02 showed up and was ready to depart. I got up and grabbed her hand as we headed out of the mall.

“Hon”, she said.

“Yeh ?”, I replied,

“You’re holding my hand awfully tight”

“Sorry”

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Larry passed away this February from complications arising from pneumonia…he was 36.

[Guest Virtual]

Thanks again, Kip. This time around I think I'll let my teenagers read it. It might make them think twice about spring fever/driving/partying .... and the possible consequences. They're pretty good so far ... but a good offence is the best defence.

[Guest regular joe]

[Guest CJRT]

Thanks Kip.

[Guest CJRT]

Thanks Kip.

[Beth]

Wow Kip..I think you missed your calling.

[Pierre Garneau]

Very sobering and so well written, Kip. I think most have encountered a 'Larry' at one time or another, regrettably most have not been given the time and care that you gave Larry.

Thank you for reminding us that breaking a fingernail, facing pay cuts, etc. are miniscule and insignificant compared to impossible journeys lived by all the Larrys.

May I suggest that you have this published in the Reader's Digest, this story deserves to be told. Best regards.

Pierre

[Guest lupin]

shure puts things into perspective doesn't it.....

Lupin

[Guest flyersclub]

Kip, thanks so much for that. I just want to mention a program here in YYC called the Party Program. Every kid in public Junior High (age about 13) goes by bus to spend all day with paraplegics and quadraplegics who are handicapped directly as a result of drinking and driving. The students have to help these people all day and eat lunch with them. Both my sons have found this to be an extremely moving experience, one they will never forget. Maybe other cities could start a similar program, fyi.