Dear Garrett..

“Your passage through time and space is not at random. You cannot but be in the right place at the right time.” A Course in Miracles, Lesson 42

The sun was shining brightly when I arrived at the Watsonville, California Municipal Airport. I found a parking spot in front of a WWII Quonset hut. The round-topped building was dwarfed in size by the large, wooden hangar standing to its right. To the left of the Quonset hut and across the parking lot was the white-painted wooden airport operations building. Behind the operations building was an abandoned air traffic control tower.

In contrast to the heighten state of activity when serving as a WWII Naval Air Station, the airport now felt like a place of calm after a storm. The beautiful, rugged buildings, hangars, ramps, and runways now served its city and community well as an industrious and peacefully productive municipal airport.

It felt good being at the airport. Although much about the airport was yet unknown to me, it immediately began to feel like home and like where I belonged. Both my mind and body were flowing with a stirring sense of anticipation. I didn’t know specifically where I was heading only that I was looking to head somewhere in aviation – into flying. Up to this point, I had worked in various ways to acquire my initial pilot certification. Now, I was showing up at an airport to see what I could find to begin to advance further into aviation, specifically into flying professionally.

Stepping out of the car, I could see the crop duster operation area behind and more than a hundred yards to the rear of where I had parked. Closing the car door and pointing myself in the direction of the crop duster ramp, I noticed a man standing in front of the Quonset hut building. In the midst of all the aforementioned scenery of airport buildings and ramps and hangars, the man suddenly became a primary focus of my attention. I remember thinking that my original plan was to seek out and speak with a crop duster pilot about a work opportunity. This man was obviously not a crop duster.

From the distance, I could see he had short thinning gray hair. He was wearing gray slacks, a white shirt and a blue blazer sport jacket. And he was just standing there on the lawn In front of the Quonset hut. Initially he didn’t seem to notice me.

As I began walking toward the crop duster area, I became increasingly interested in the man standing by the Quonset hut. Subconsciously I was thinking, “Why is this man just standing there doing nothing? People are normally busy during week day normal work hours? Well, since this man is just standing there with apparently nothing else to do, I may as well speak with him before heading over to the crop duster area.” Little did I know in those brief moments of sudden awareness and resultant decision-making that I was just minutes away from having my first flying job. Not the job with the crop dusters I had imagined but rather a job with this man who I had never seen, met or even heard of before.

As if drawn by a compelling magnetic force, I found myself altering course away from the crop duster ramp and heading toward this man standing by the Quonset hut. At first he didn’t seem to notice me heading in his direction. His hands were parked neatly in his trouser pockets. Moving in closer, I could see he had a thin salt and pepper colored mustache. His head swung slightly left in my direction as I continued my approach toward him. I could see his years on our planet had not been easy or soft ones. Like whose are? In his face and eyes, I could begin to see signs of strength, confidence and success. He seemed peaceful and content.

I could tell I was breaking his concentration from whatever he was thinking about as I continued my progress toward him. As his gaze shifted and fixed on me, his lips parted in a slight curious smile. I could see his teeth weren’t the most picturesque to look at. I could also tell he didn’t care what they looked like. His pose, body and face all fit the profile of a boxer. I learned later he had been a boxer in his younger years.

As I came to rest a few feet in front of him, I was relieved to see he seemed to welcome me into his presence not wishing I’d leave him alone. I was relieved to see my intrusion was a welcome one. Mustering up the courage to speak to this complete stranger, I told him I had just acquired my Private Pilot Certificate, that I wanted to become a Professional Aviator and that I was looking for a job.

In less than five minutes, it began to sound to me like I had landed my first aviation job. The man offering me the job was Pat Carroll. Mr. Carroll explained that my job would be to run the office, wait on clients and keep the airplanes clean. I would also be giving demo flights to prospective students. And I would be flying to various airports in the general area to pick up aircraft parts for the shop, etc.

After explaining my job description, Mr. Carroll said, “Wait a minute. Let’s check with my partner before we go any further.” My sense of apparent premature elation instantly deflated into uncertainty. I realized that my destiny now rested in the hands and mind of another complete stranger who I would now have to satisfy regarding my worthiness for the job.

Mr. Carroll nodded for me to follow him. We headed towards the large wooden WWII hangar. The hangar was magnificent. The structure was tall and wide and deep. It had no doors on the front – just a large opening spanning its entire width. Toward the rear of the hangar was a wall with doors. The wall, extending the entire width of the hangar, separated the aircraft area from the shop area. The shop area was about a fifth the depth of the aircraft area. The entire hangar was held together by massive wooden beams covered with wood siding and roofing. The siding was painted white, probably a couple of decades ago when it was first built.

Another feature of the hangar was something in the right rear corner. It was a kind of dark and not a very big area. As I followed Mr. Carroll into the hangar, we headed towards the said darker area in the hangar. As we got closer, it began to look like maybe an office? Walking closer, Mr. Carroll escorted me into an office ahead of himself and introduced me to the man behind the desk. Darrell, this is Mark.  Mark, this is Darrell, my business partner. 

Darrell didn’t bother to get up to greet me.  He mostly just glared at me while Mr. Carroll told him what he had in mind for me.  Darrell appeared to successfully shift his attention from the paperwork on his desk to the stranger (me) from out of nowhere escorted into his presence. Following a nod of acceptance from Darrell, Mr. Carroll left us alone in the office and departed the hangar.

Sitting there opposite each other in this totally unexpected circumstance for both of us didn’t seem to deter Darrell from getting on with the chore of conducting an interview with a potential new employee. Darrell spoke for several minutes about his experience in aviation and how great a profession it is for one to engage in. I listened attentively neither remarking nor asking questions.

As Darrell spoke it began to sound like he had already made up his mind that I had become the newest addition to the Watsonville Aviation Service employee staff. Nearing the end of his talk he paused a bit taking a hard look at me. It was like he was making a final assessment as to whether he felt like taking on and raising up this fledgling young kid aspiring aviator sitting across the desk from him. It seemed to feel like he was wondering whether I’d be worth the effort it would take to mold me into a good employee at the flying service as well as advancing me along the path of becoming a professional aviator. 

Darrell’s final words to me pronounced a stern warning. “In every organization there’s a p_ _ _ _k…and I’m the p_ _ _ _k around here.” I accepted his notice at face value. I figured he must have heard someone say or tell him that somewhere along the way and he was just passing it on to me? I thought to myself, “I’ll be careful not to do anything that gives him an opportunity to demonstrate what he means by those words.”

I left Darrell’s office with my feathers slightly ruffled from our 30 or so minutes together. As unsettling as Darrell’s final words to me were, I was content to know that I had landed my first flying job.