A Chick in the Cockpit (25 page)

23
Contrails

1.
Contrails are evidence that you were there

2.
They form because the exhaust of the aircraft is both gas and sold particles

3.
They are made of water and the suspension of billions of liquid droplets

4.
They can also form by intense air pressure and lift from a wing, but these are only visible for a few seconds or minutes

5.
Contrails are simply what you leave behind

The contrails of my past still cast a shadow, even though I have moved forward and reached my destination. They are simply proof that I was there.

Over the next year, I endured having Brad file another seven frivolous court actions so he could continue the abuse. Six months after the property settlement, he decided he wanted my twelve-year-old refrigerator, a swing, my kitchen table and chairs, and one of the dogs. My divorce decree stated that all further disagreements would go to mediation, which meant I had to spend another $300/hour to negotiate items that hardly added up to $300. It should have been a loser-pays scenario.

Brad also called the police on three occasions over the first winter when a typical mountain snowstorm made it impossible for me to get my kids to his house. The police would arrive at my house and I'd explain the situation, which flabbergasted them, so they got on the phone in front of me and the children and scolded Brad for his behavior. “Sir, why in the world would you insist on putting your children in danger? The children will be staying with their mother until she feels the roads are safe enough for travel...Yes, when
she
decides they're safe.”

Brad also continued to file lawsuits. He filed to try and make me sell my home, he filed contempt of court because I took my kids on a vacation—even though he was informed and it was during my parenting time, he filed again because I took them horse backing riding in Estes Park, he filed another because he wanted me to pay for items in the rental home—items he broke while he was living in our rental home, which I'd paid for before we were married. He filed to have me cover the costs of painting the bathroom walls. It just didn't stop. He was still in control of my life by filing these frivolous lawsuits. To make matters worse, he didn't have to have an attorney to do this. He'd just walk into the courthouse and file a contempt of court motion for $25, but it cost me thousands to have an attorney prepare a response. The contrails he was leaving across our sky blotted out the sun.

I put up with this shit for one more year and said enough was enough.

The only “demand” I'd had during the divorce negotiations was that Brad attend counseling. He attended one session in a year and stated this was “consistent counseling.” I filed my own contempt of court motion and instead of being rejected like Brad's motions had been, the judge said she wanted to hear this one.

This was the fifth time in front of this judge, and she'd had enough of seeing us. She understood that Brad was using the legal system to abuse me. She called it his “abusive and continual need to control...”

I wanted to see if the judge thought complying with the decree meant once per year. Apparently she didn't, because she ordered Brad to attend psychological counseling and was placed on a six month suspended jail sentence for contempt of court. He was also ordered to pay my legal expenses for the motion—almost $6,000 worth of legal bills. It was a drop in the bucket compared to the $75k I had already spent, but it stopped Brad's legal abuse in its tracks and the peripheral reward was gigantic. I had won. Brad never did attend counseling, even though it was ordered during the suspended jail sentence, but it changed his perception of the situation. Sometimes, that's all it takes.

Winning the motion released a floodgate of freedom within my mindset. I had been dating a man in the next town for a year and a half, but I'd kept him at arm's length because I didn't want him dragged into my past. Over the year leading up to the final court order, Dave had asked me to take our relationship to a higher altitude, but my basic reply was “maybe someday.” I know he didn't mind the contrails of my past and was more than willing to battle Brad, but
I
minded. I didn't want Brad as a third party in my relationship with Dave. Winning the court order allowed me to turn around and shut the jail door on Brad.

Despite winning, the past still creeps into my cockpit sometimes and I am aghast to realize a ghost is flying my airplane. In a remarriage or re-relationship scenario, your new role now includes having a ghost as your copilot or check airman. Occasionally, Dave and I have to perform past relationship exorcisms because ghosts can get through my security checkpoints. We simply grab the ghosts, put them in our luggage and check them in. We still have to carry them with us, but they can't do harm when they're locked away.

24
At the Gate

Ding!

Ladies and gentleman, this is the end of our journey together. I hope you enjoyed the flight. My story has come full circle and I am once again on solid ground here with you. I am turning off the fasten seatbelt sign so you are free to move about your own life.

If you look out the window, you'll notice mechanics coming to work on this airplane. It is now going in for maintenance to have its oil filters changed. People have these filters, too, except they're “thought filters,” and they need to be changed as often as oil filters. We create them with our own perceptions and, just like oil filters, they get clogged with larger chunks of junk, which only allow certain ideas to flow through. After a while, it can get so clogged with debris that your engine has to work harder and eventually, it will just seize up and leave you stranded. It all depends on the size of the screen you put on your filter. Too easily filtered, or too finely filtered thoughts, presents different problems, so it's up to you to find the right size.

Aircraft mechanics change oil filters, but you, friends, or family can change thought filters. Every once in a while, dump it out and see which fragments of life your screen is holding onto. My screen too often held big ideas that I wouldn't allow to pass through. And then, one giant piece of crap got clogged into my screen which blocked the passageway for all other thoughts. When you feel like you're not running at peak performance, it's time to change your thought filters.

As you exit and walk past the cockpit, you now know a little more about those pilots who, for a few hours at a time, are in charge of your life. The pilots sitting up there have spent years and countless hours of unflinching determination to learn how to keep you safe. And, if you see a chick up there, she's not there because of (or despite of) being born a women. She's there because she is a pilot. She doesn't do anything differently than a man because she doesn't have to.

As you exit the jet bridge, if you need help, ask for help. Don't worry about the taboo of asking for help, because it takes all the strength you have to admit you need it. It's out there and if you're not receiving help, you should be giving it.

Once you reach baggage claim, check your tags. If you have packed a dysfunctional relationship, go ahead and leave it on the carousel. Eventually, someone else will pick it up. It might take them a while to figure out that they grabbed the wrong bag, but as soon as they open it up, they'll figure it out.

As you wait for your bags, you might as well take this time to look around at all the people who are brought together by aviation. All those women with their children are more than women with their children. They are book club warriors, business owners, oil field workers, engineers, astronauts, race car drivers...gender benders. They have their own unique vision and they've taught themselves to lead with values, situational awareness, ethics, and passion. They are leading like it's never been done before. They are being compared to the status quo, but our world is begging for a new style of transformational leadership. They are the new leaders, breaking the mold, and raising children with purpose to keep the world in balance. It's time. Their impact on our world is deep, quiet, and revolutionary. Never doubt the quiet power of women.

No End, just new beginnings.

E
pilogue

Three years after my arrest, I trudged through the legal system again to try and get my record sealed and prove my false arrest. I filed a petition requesting that my record be sealed with the District Court in the county where I live. During the process, I was thrilled to learn that if I was able to seal my records, I would not have to disclose any information contained in those records to any employer, educational institution, state or local government agency, or on an application or interview. The only exception is federal level law enforcement/background checks, which is what the Federal Aviation Administration is and does. I could not seal my record from them. Most federal investigative powers have been broadened since the passage of the Patriot Act in 2001, so the FAA and TSA are considered federal law enforcement agencies. They have access to my records.

Ironically, with Brad's help, the judge reviewing the case acknowledged that I should never have been arrested. I was vindicated, but all my pilot currency requirements had expired by the time of the judgment. If I wanted to fly again, I would have to pay a significant chunk of time and money to get back into the pilot's seat. I would have to start from the bottom, again. I just didn't have the resources, and as each year passed the tether to the pilot's seat frayed a little more. After the divorce, I reentered aviation by landing a dispatching job at an international jet company. The hours were horrible (of course, it's aviation), but I got to work from home, so I could be with my kids, and it put me back into the aviation world, even though I flew a desk. After flying a desk and loving it, I began my career as a professional pilot analyst and columnist for several aviation magazines.

I will someday sit in the captain's seat again, but in the meantime I will look to the heavens with a longing in my heart and enough memories to last a lifetime.

What about Dave? As I write this, I can hear his deep laughter that I know will cause our dogs to tilt their head and perk up their ears to see what is so funny. My kids are thriving. They are upstairs making guacamole with Dave and they are inserting weird ingredients like meatballs and pineapple. I bet it will be good because it's not perfect. It will be the odd contrast in flavor that will be enjoyable as well as memorable.

We are perched at 8500 feet above sea level in the foothills, and it is pure coincidence that our house is directly on the arrival flight path into Denver International Airport. I never intended for that to happen. We have two skylights over our bed and when we see an airplane flying overhead, Dave takes my hand and quietly kisses it. It reminds me that my hands used to control those iron beasts, but now my hands are embraced and held in love.

My quiet heroes, the Book Club Warriors, still gather to laugh, talk, and analyze our society's issues through other people's stories. We have watched our babies grow together and the wrinkles on our faces grow deeper. These women are even more beautiful now because they have their stories, and no matter how different our stories are, we all share the common theme of motherhood and life as a woman.

The Divorce Club Warriors grow stronger every day. We all need to help revive our society, so this group helps women going through divorce to help themselves which, in turn, helps others. The structure of family has been bleeding so profusely from the tragedy of divorce that parents are too weak to parent. Divorce consumes a childhood and creates children that don't understand what a healthy relationship looks like. It's a vicious cycle. So we are resuscitating our pride and joining together to show our kids how to live and laugh—and give them back their childhoods.

Brad? He continues the abuse any way he can, but he doesn't deserve more than a sentence in an epilogue. He'll see this as getting the last word.

Acknowledgments

All too often we forget that there is a giant, anonymous crew who work their asses off behind the scenes to get an airplane to its destination safely. The list of people who have helped me soar are long, but pilots are brief. Thank you to my original flight crew: my mom, the first single mother I ever met, Mom 2 for making the tough choice, Richard Anderson (or any variable of that spelling), because I exist, and my dad who gets the Nobel Prize for delayed parenting. You saved me and my girls when it mattered the most.

A Top Gun thumbs up to my agent, Roger Williams, who actually liked that my story didn't fit into just one category at the book store and Lynn Price, my editor and Acquisitions Director of Behler Publications, for sifting through my wreckage and pulling out a phoenix.

To all my flight instructors who had the crap scared out of them during my flight training, I salute you. Joe Mavencamp, John Fleishhacker, and Pete, thank you for your extra efforts that got me into the captain's seat. I honor all my flight crews throughout the years who cringed when I walked in the cockpit, but learned to accept that I wasn't just a chick; I was just a pilot. I realize it was harder for you than it was for me because I was used to the ratio. To the misogynists with whom I flew, thank you. You helped me grow a thick skin and inspired my sarcasm and sense of humor to guide me through dark skies. My bird salutes you, too.

Continued thanks to my life-long instructors: my girls—I love you to infinity and back, and back again. Dave—a rolling happy tear for the pure happiness you helped me find. And, screw it; I'm not supposed to waste space mentioning my pets, but I give an extra ear scratch to all the dogs that have landed at my home and spent thousands of hours in my office watching me work.

A high five to all the current and future pilots out there who have read my articles and followed me through the years as I simultaneously embrace and scold the aviation industry for its behavior. I'm just being a good mother.

Last, but not least, thank you to my friends and Book Club Warrior women in Conifer and Evergreen, CO. You showed up in court on Valentine's Day, never knowing the full story. You had no idea the impact you would have, but the result is what you now hold in your hand.