He remembered that she loved to fly with him, and especially enjoyed their short flights from Torrance, CA airport directly over the ocean to Catalina Island. She loved to watch the beautiful sparkling ocean, and the heart pounding landing on a cliff, just off the end of the runway, on the Island. He remembered that before each landing, she put her hand on his leg for security. and to calm her nerves. They used to go to the airport restaurant, order some bison burgers, since there were wild Bison on the island, drink iced tea, and sit outside and enjoy the scenery. 

It had been many years, but he felt the need to relive this flight again, and retrieve the fond memories, so he went to Torrance California, to rent a plane.  He had lost the shadow men, at least temporarily, maybe because the job was becoming too monotonous, or difficult, so he felt free again.

Ollie walked up to the general aviation side of the airport, slight limp with his cane, and of course, his hair remained a snow-blizzard mess.  The agent at the desk just stared at the old man, as he walked up, bewildered at what would come next in this situation.

“Good morning sir, how may I help you today? Do you want some sightseeing information for southern California?”

“No son.  I know the area.  I want to rent a plane.”

“Huh?  A plane?  The worker was clearly surprised by this request from the old man. he wondered firstly, is he able to fly and secondly, would his gimpy leg allow him to use the rudders?  But he saw the old man’s blue eyes staring at him with a clarity and determination that demonstrated extreme confidence.

“Yes. Do you have any Cessna 172s?”

“Well yes.  And we also have some 150s and 172 RGs.  We rent for $150 per hour, fully fueled.  Where will you be going?  Around the pattern for a few nice touch and goes?”

“Nope.  Santa Catalina Island for a little while.  Want to eat some bison burgers.”

“The worker became more serious.  Please show me your FAA license please.”

Ollie dug into his worn out wallet, then pulled out the FAA document, which was crinkled and faded around the edges.  The worker stared at it:  Warren S Barret.  Type ratings:  single engine, multi-engine, commercial and instrument rated. Original license issued: September 15, 1949.  Medical expiration, 10/1/2023. Special note:  VIP

“Sir, you certainly are qualified, but I am sure you know your medical expires in a few weeks.  You’ll need a physical soon.”

“Oh,  thanks for reminding me son.  I’ll make sure I get doc to sign me off, if he hasn’t retired yet.”

“And sir, I need to ask for your log book.  Are you current with 3 take offs and landings to a complete stop in the last 90 days? FAA regulations, as you know. “

“Well, um, yes, I am current of course.  But I seem to have forgotten my log book.  You’ll just have to trust me.”  Sometimes, white lies are harmless when the receiver is clueless.

Ollie had not owned a log book in more years than he could remember, but that never stopped him from flying before.  He watched as the young man went to a back room, after he scanned Ollie’s tag, and looked on the FAA website: “This pilot is classified as a VIP. The fixed base operator will maintain radar contact and the pilot will squawk and ident.  Inform the FAA immediately for late return. The worker came back to Ollie, a little crack in his voice as he said, “Ok Mr. umm, Barrett.  I will rent you the plane.  See you in an hour.”

Ollie got in the plane and after that, everything became automatic again.  He called Torrance Ground, “Cessna 1097M, request taxi instructions to runway 23.  Have Bravo Adis information.”

“Roger 1097M.  What are your intentions.”

“Westbound direct to Catalina Island.”

“Roger, 1097 Mike. Taxi and hold on runway 23.”

He took off and leveled off at 5000 feet, with a smooth ride to the cliffs of Catalina, and landed perfectly on the runway, just barely inland from the Cliffs and the rocky beach below.  He got out of his plane slower than ever, exhilarated by his flight, and with his cane, entered the airport restaurant.  The waitress came up and took his order, and he said,  “Bison burger, fully loaded and a large iced tea please.”

That is all the two of them ever ordered on that island, and that was more than enough. They just sat at the picnic table, enjoyed their meal, laughed and enjoyed the precious moments and then flew back to the mainland. She knew her time with him was limited and therefore valuable. He went back to his plane, happy that he still had the memories intact, and they were wonderful.  He flew back, landed uneventfully, and returned the plane to the fixed based operator.  He then went to the pilot’s lounge in back and thought to himself, I really could use a Guiness now, but hell, this is a pilot’s lounge, so I guess it will be another iced tea.

The employee came up to him and handed him a letter.  “This is a little unusual, but it was sent to us by currier today.  By the way, did you enjoy the island sir?”

“It was perfect.”  Ollie started to feel trapped again, because obviously they knew where he was at all times.

Ollie opened the letter:  The Letter head read:  Office of the President, United States of America, Washington D.C. It is a federal offense to open this letter without permission of the Secret Service.

Dear Ollie: The president remembers your last visit and that you said you were available for service, if needed. Some things have come up, and we have deliberated about some world events that seem very difficult right now, and we would like you to come to Washington as soon as you can to meet with the president and myself to discuss this.  Signed, National Security Advisor.

Well, said Ollie to himself.  Hell’s bells.  That last meeting wasn’t very positive, and he seemed disinterested, and I had to jump and catch him before he tripped and fell to the floor.  How many presidents do I have to save? And I wonder, if the cross pin I stuck to his desk is still there. The POTUS it seemed, was concentrating more on equity and inclusion than the major crises happening in the country and world.  He wouldn’t even read my prayer.  Seems now he needs me.   Interesting.

He finished his tea, then, bowed his head and prayed, alone at his table in the pilot’s lounge.  Dear Father:  I am tired and getting weaker. I thank you for my many blessings, but please guide me and give me wisdom in this situation. Oh, and by the way, thank you for letting me make this trip safely.  Your will is my command.  Amen

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