Mike is a colleague of mine and possibly my favorite. Mike is from Houston and approaches his life as if it were a Mark Twain novel; humerous and full of opportunities to point out moral truths about life as he sees it.
When he talks about his grandchildren, which is very rare, one gets the feeling that they receive a treatment not far from that applied to the listener himself -- as Mike puts it, he likes to tell them about "all sorts of stuff that is neat."
The first trip I got to enjoy with Mike (in my profession, one gets to really know someone after traveling with them somewhere), was to Little Rock, AR.
Having endured a particularly turbulent approach to landing, Mike patted the pilot on the back and thanked him for the ride "just like a rodeo!" he exclaimed walking out the little jet.
That's how they started. The Mike-isms. Working with someone named Brian "Wildman" H. was described as "like havin' a pet racoon. You just never know what he's gunna do next."
Listening to a particularly long presentation on avionic systems left Mike feeling like "a cat watchin' TV. I'm just lookin' at pictures moving across the screen"
Purchasing an engine re-upgrade program was described as "like putting a pool in your new house"
A particularly hot day in Kansas was explained by likening the sensation to "walking on a grilled tortilla. Flat and hot as hell"
Kansas, in general, became a place where you could "watch your dog run away from you for 20 minutes" and a mis-spoken conference call with a client dismissed as "well.... you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube."
Before working for my company, Mike used to run a large group for another aircraft manufacturer. He became familiar with airplanes on an intimate and thorough level. Becoming an expert in the industry and knowing every broker in the US by name allowed Mike to have particular insight into the world of aviation unattainable to most. He became to me, a person I could approach on any subject, no matter how seemingly trivial.
"Why did they never make the supersonic jet, Mike?" I asked him once. "Well..." He thought about it. "because of how expensive it is" he said "And, of course, because of the turkeys." he added. "The turkeys?" I said. "Yeah, you know the turkeys -- when a jet breaks the barrier of sound it pops all loud-like and does all sorts of nonsenses, like breaking windows, for example. Well one major problem is that it scares all the turkeys down in the turkey farms. They run to huddle together and suffocate themselves because they're such stupid little animals." I laughed "So, no supersonic jet because of the turkeys?" He acted surprised I was laughing. "Well yes! You can't be goin' breaking the sound barrier and scaring turkeys all over the place! That's why they have laws -- you can only break the sound barrier over water."
And that was the world according to Mike which was opened to me in Arkansas on a cold spring morning. Where noise abatement laws were there to protect turkeys and people were pet racoons.
Walking away from the sales meeting, we wandered onto the tarmac waiting as the ramp personnel loaded our luggage onto the jet. On the other side of the runway, a giant metallic shiny Boeing was powering on its engines. It thrust down the length of the field and barelled down towards us screeching, clanking and finally separating its huge mass from the asphalt and lifting into the air with a tremendous growl. As the airplane retracted its gear and disappeared slowly into the mist hanging in the atmosphere, we both stared, spellbound and mesmerized.
"There's just something indescribable about it, isn't there, Mike" I said
"Yeah... " Mike responded. "You're either an airplane guy or you ain't"
