Birds of a Feather

Geese aren’t known for being suicidal. Neither are nuns. Both are regarded as creatures of habit in their own ways. But that doesn’t make the facts any less true. Believe me, I would know.

Apparently, it had been an exceptionally dreary day in Boston. So of course, that was where we were headed. The drizzle of rain spitting down on the travel hub was just weak enough to allow flights to continue to land and leave Logan airport without cancellation, yet just strong enough that almost every flight had been delayed. The crackle of the glum weather report came over the pilot’s intercom just as I poked my head into the cockpit.

“Roger, Boston,” Franklin sighed. “I think it’s going to piss on us most of our way anyway. Will radio for descent orders upon arrival, over and out.”

The young pilot replaced the receiver before dragging a hand across his forehead. He lifted the brim of his spotless visor, brushing sweat from his brow. This was not my first flight with Franklin Butte, but it was a first for all of us with him sitting in the captain’s seat.

“My, my, Captain,” the co-pilot tutted in that would-be solemn tone. “Shall I inform the passengers, or would you like to do the honors?”

“Oh, go on then,” Franklin said, disgruntled. “You’ve got the ‘pilot’ voice down more than I ever will have anyway.”

“Perhaps,” the co-pilot mused, “It comes from fifteen years’ experience as a pilot.”

“Briggs,” I chided, balancing the snack plate on my arm, “Be nice. It’s Frank’s first day in the pilot’s seat. Besides, he’s lucky to have you as a co-pilot.”

I placed the fruit and cheese tray on the small space between the two men.

“Right-o,” Briggs responded with a wink before turning back to Frank. “Break a leg, Frankie boy. By the by, captain, are we still on? You know…for first crack at our international feast of fancy? The early bird gets the worm?” he gestured at the plate I had just put down.

Frank bit his lip. The deliberation was painted across his thin face scrunched up with indecision. Now unencumbered by the cheese tray, I put my hands on my hips and frowned at the pair of them.

“Are you two about to torture each other with some silly of word game?”

“Heavens to Murgatroyd, Mandy, of course not,” Briggs said, covering his heart with a hand as though I had mortally injured his pride. “We like word games.”

“Two peas in a pod,” Frank agreed.

“Oh, good one, Frank,” Briggs nodded. “It takes one to know one.”

Both pilots chuckled as I pinched the brim of my nose.

“Okay,” I reframed. “Are you about to torture me and the passengers with some silly word game?”

“Only if you decide you don’t want to play along with us,” Briggs began before I held up a finger.

“No. No, Briggs, you can’t. Not on Frank’s first day in the pilot’s seat. Come on, you know Cordelia hates it when you mess with the passengers.”

“Ah yes, who are the lucky bunch of rascals we’re transporting all the way from the blossoming metropolis of St. Louis to bleak and balmy Boston?”

I sighed, now rubbing my temples. We had been over the flight plan not an hour before and we were both fully aware of our clientele for day’s journey. The truth was, working for an airline that operated with a just two planes—one was always in the shop in one of those flyover states—made for a busy, and often unusual passenger list for the small commercial plane. Not two weeks ago we had flown a stranded group of circus performers all the way from Anchorage to Saudi Arabia. The week before that a wealthy woman in her 80’s from San Jose to New York to watch Derek Jeter’s final series. She paid us to wait for four days on the tarmac until she was ready to come home. Cordelia, the owner of both planes and therefore Fairway Air, had given us all an extra day off after that haul.

But no matter how bizarre the trip, the one thing I could count on was Frank and Briggs devising some new way to torture us over the intercom. Truth be told, it didn’t bother me nearly as much now when Cordelia was on the flights and I would watch her reaction to the two unruly pilots trying to amuse themselves. Their casual, but clever, games passed the time in the air and usually sailed 30,000 feet above the heads of most unsuspecting passengers before hitting Cordelia smack in the face.

I knew I would get an earful from her if they got up to their usual antics on Frank’s first flight in the pilot’s seat. Even though my weathered, copper badge read “MANDY- Flight Attendant” I really felt it would have been more appropriate to label me as “MANDY-Resident Pilot-Sitter. Passengers were a piece of cake, but these two…impossible. On occasion I had allowed Briggs to cajole me into joining them, but today was not the day for impropriety. Not only because Cordelia was flying with her own personal raincloud over her head, but because of our passengers today. I twisted to look back the row of seats and the 15 women lined up in long black robes.

Well, all but the one woman sitting in the far back of the small plane flipping through a romance novel she must have picked up in duty free. Her pink blazer was a single pop of vibrant color against the morose-looking women staring straight ahead or whispering quietly among themselves. That was Cordelia for you.

“Mandy?” Briggs prompted. “The passengers? The crème de le crème of folks whose journey takes us from illustrious point A to what will undoubtedly be a turbulent and tumultuous point B?”

“You know it’s a group of nuns, Briggs,” I hissed, pulling the cockpit door tighter behind me. “Come on…you can’t torture a group of nuns.”

As soon as I said it, I knew that if there was one thing I could have said to make sure Briggs did exactly what I asked him not to, that was it.

“No?” Briggs asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“Okay, Briggs,” said Frank, looking up from the instrument board. “You’re on. Best phrase for each of the best cheeses on the snack tray today.”

I groaned and he shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry, Mandy. It’s not like we have a lot of other things to gamble with and besides, who are we hurting if we’re just amusing ourselves—”

But Briggs’ voice was already echoing down the aisle outside the cockpit, bouncing off the limited storage bins overhead. I thought I saw Cordelia’s head flick up from her romance novel for the merest of moments, but in a split-second I had pulled the cockpit door shut behind me and crammed myself into the nonexistent space I frequently occupied on flights with Fairway Air.

Though I knew we might all get in trouble, I had to admit I was curious what Briggs had come up with for Frank’s first flight as a licensed pilot. Ever since Briggs had requested to step down from his full slate of duties as the pilot for Fairway we had been helping Frank prepare to take over the position. After he passed his CPL and had gotten all his hours in, Briggs was able to step down to part-time as one of two first officers in our airway. Even though he had said he wanted more part-time work, he seemed to be enjoying the role of pestering first officer enough that he’d flown more of our chartered flights as first officer than when he was sitting in the pilot’s seat. For that, I was secretly glad. It didn’t matter how many stripes were on each of their arms. Briggs and Frank together were magic. Chaotic. But still magic.

“Ladies and…well, ladies,” he said over the PA. “I am First Officer Brigham Watercress and on behalf of myself and Captain Franklin Butte, we are delighted that you have decided to jump on our bandwagon here at Fairway Air. Before things get out of hand, I want to assure you that despite it raining cats and dogs we anticipate a smooth flight today and expect it all be right as rain in the end. If you need anything between now and then, our flight attendant, Mandy, will be happy to help at the drop of a hat. So sit back and relax as we make our way to Boston, better late than never.”

He replaced the microphone and the red light switched off.

“How was that, Captain?”

“Not bad, but then again, every dog has his day.”

Both chortled as Briggs eyed the platter, sizing up the assorted cheeses and plastic-wrapped crackers in front of him. A veritable airborne smorgasbord.

I heard the distinct sound of pumps marching down the carpeted corridor. The unmistakable clomping of Cordelia menacing her way up the aisle from her seat in the back of the aircraft was unmistakable. I also seriously doubted any of the nuns were sporting heels.

The metal partition banged open as head of frizzy, blond hair shot inside.

“Just what was that supposed to be?”

“Welcome to this week’s episode of ‘Don’t Be an Idiom,’” said Briggs jovially. He swung around in his seat to flash a smile at Cordelia, whose face was quickly turning the color of puce. “These are a dime a dozen. A penny for your thoughts today, Cordelia?”

“We are transporting all of St. Mary’s Holy Order today. Get your act together!” she snapped.

“Ah, there you go…it’s not rocket science, is it, Cordelia?” Briggs smiled.

“It is Frank’s first day as a fully bona fide pilot, Brigham. When I bring the Mother Superior up for the tour of the cockpit we promised her, you need to be on your best behavior,” Cordelia warned, before inching backward and sliding the partition shut again.

I shot Briggs a look.

“You know you’re on thin ice with her,” I said, a smirk tugging one of my dimples into existence.

Both pilots grinned.

“I knew you’d play,” Briggs said.

I raised my eyebrows before removing a small wedge of brie and a single cracker from the plate I had brought in. “Familiarity breeds contempt,” I shrugged.

Frank chuckled as Briggs ears turned red.

“And as a reward for participating in silly word games,” I trailed off as I popped the cheese in my mouth.

“I was going to have the brie as my reward for the PA broadcast,” Briggs complained.

I backed out of the cockpit to the stewardess serving station and began to gather the drinks trolley materials. Just as I nestled the last two soda cans in with the variety of teas and juices, I looked out to see Cordelia kneeling by one of the women in her hooded, black robes. The woman wore round spectacles the reminded me of an owl, though her face was thin and unsmiling. Cordelia offered her arm as the older woman rose from her seat and the two began their ascent up the aisle toward the cockpit. From the other side I could still hear the vague mutterings of the two pilots as the women drew closer.

“I dunno, Briggs…”

“Sorry, what was that, Frank?”

“We may be barking up the wrong tree, Briggs. Bit off more than we can chew…keeping our jobs by the skin of our teeth. Read me?”

I thumped the partitioned door once with my elbow and the hushed voices paused. Pulling the cart to the side, I made space for the Mother Superior and my own superior to pass unhindered. Cordelia sidled up beside me and fumbled for a moment with the metal door before I swung it back for them. The nun looked me up and down and I became overly aware of the skirt revealing my knees and stockinged legs. The pink and orange ascot wrapped hastily around my neck looking like a sunset in hospice care. She pursed her lips as I extended a hand with a pair of copper wings for her to take. She looked down, crossed herself, then me and continued walking toward the cockpit.

I shrugged at Cordelia, who sighed and continued to march on.

“Good afternoon, Captain Butte, First Officer Watercress. May I introduce Mother Superior Louise?”

“Speak of the devil!” Briggs voice carried and I closed my eyes trying not to groan. “We were just talking about you and your lovely convent, weren’t we, Frank?”

“Ah, yes,” said Frank, hesitating. “Absolutely on cloud nine to have you join us today. I hope that everything has been exactly as you hoped. The…the…” he swallowed, and I braced for impact. “The devil is in the details, you know.”

We were all going to be fired. I just knew it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken Briggs absolute favorite piece of cheese off the plate, but he and Frank were always making a muck of passengers travels with their competitions that invariably went too far. This time, I feared I might have been the catalyst that pushed them over the edge. They weren’t just doing idioms now…they were doing sacrilegious ones.

Gripping the metal handles of the cart, I prepared to begin serving the sisters who had been waiting patiently in their seats since takeoff. Just as I maneuvered the cart into the aisle, there was a sound like an errant gunshot and the whole plane rocked to one side. The “fasten seatbelt” sign blinked into life as I banged clumsily into the rim of the cart before scurrying back to the flight attendant’s seat at the front of our small craft.

What had gone wrong this time?

As I turned to sit down, I became aware of the Mother lying flat on the ground cushioned by a bright pink bulge. She had fallen on top of Cordelia whose blazer peeked out from beneath. I ran over and helped both Mother Superior and Cordelia to their feet. Cordelia was already shouting into the cockpit.

“What the hell was that?”

“I-I think it was a goose,” Frank stuttered, furiously pushing buttons as he fought to regain control of the aircraft.

“Poor thing,” I heard the Mother whisper. “I hope it’s alright now.”

A snowball’s chance in hell, I thought to myself.

“I’m sure it’s far better off than our right engine,” I heard Briggs mutter. “But you know what they say: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush—”

“But it’s in the engine you absolute imbecile!” Cordelia clawed at her face.

Well, there went any suspension of disbelief for Mother Superior. Walking over to the nun, I helped her into my seat right outside the cockpit and buckled her in even though we seemed to be flying level once again.

“I wasn’t expecting a wild goose chase from you, Frank.”

“Can we call it a day with you two idiots?”

“Idioms,” Briggs corrected. Then quickly added, “Think of it as a blessing in disguise.”

“You do this to torture me,” said Cordelia, beginning to whimper.

“No, I’ve just been saving it for a rainy day. And to torture you.”

Cordelia was fuming. Even several feet away, I could see the red working its way up her neck and blossoming onto her collarbone. Pretty soon it would be difficult to discern blazer from skin tone. Frank cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak slowly.

“Tell me the plane is going to be okay, Frank.”

Silence.

“Frank?”

“Cordelia, it’s not my fault a goose flew into the engine, but we do need to land. Sooner than we planned. We’ve only got one engine going now and I don’t want this to escalate, but…” he soothed, racing through the next few words. “If we land at Kennedy, we can be on the ground in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” said Briggs, quietly. “Oh, Captain, well done.”

“How?” blathered Cordelia, hands twisting in her hair. “How is that ‘well done?’ We will still be landing a full day’s drive from Boston with a bum airplane.”

Frank nodded.

“True enough. But the other plane that’s been out for repairs ended up just a half hour from the airfield at Kennedy. It was ship-shape last week, we just haven’t had time to retrieve it. If we land here, it’ll be closer, and we can pick up the spare and be back in the air in no time.”

“Two stones with one bird…if you’ll pardon the inversion,” Briggs grinned before looking at Cordelia. “Shall I call it in?”

Cordelia looked as though she wanted to both throw her arms around the pilots while punching them both in the face. But that was Cordelia. And those were our pilots.

“You have to tell the passengers, Frank,” she said at length.

“Ignorance is bliss, though isn’t it?”

“He’s right,” said Briggs. “We don’t have to let the cat out of the bag…not to worry all these poor women, anyway.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” I said quietly. All the sisters were staring up at the cockpit with gleeful looks in their eyes. Many had their arms raised over their heads as if frozen on a rollercoaster ride. The quiet whispers had transformed into raucous laughter.

“Can you do it again?” one of the sisters called.

“This is the most fun I’ve had since 1986!” another chimed in, stowing her knitting beneath the seat.

Cordelia glared at Frank until he picked up the receiver to radio the airfield, and then make the PA announcement. When he was through, Cordelia came over to where I sat next to Mother Superior. The nun’s owlish eyes had grown even wider behind her spectacles, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. After unbuckling the seatbelt, Cordelia walked her back to her seat for the duration of the flight to Kennedy airfield.

As we prepared to land and switch aircraft, Mother Superior beckoned me over despite the seatbelt sign still emblazoned above our heads. She wanted to speak with the pilot. At this point, anything to keep us from getting sued seemed like a good idea so I retrieved Briggs from the cockpit while Frank prepared for the smoothest landing he could prepare. We knelt next to the nun’s seat as she extended a hand towards me. Though confused at first, I reached in my pocket and felt the pair of golden wings I had stashed there not twenty minutes ago. I held them out and she took the wings, shakily pinning them to the breast of her robe. She mouthed something too quiet for us to hear. Both Briggs and I leaned in closer.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?”