Ever since I was a little boy, I dreamed of flying. Back then, every time I heard the roaring engines of a DC-3, I felt the compelling need to race outside and witness the joyous spectacle. Squinting, I would wonder how its wings—defying the laws of gravity—floated so gracefully and effortlessly across the vast stretches of blue sky. As a teenager, however, my passion for aviation strangely dwindled. Fortunately, it reemerged years later with greater impetus and zeal. True passions like this one might hide amidst interference and confusion for some time, but should they surface again, they could change your life forever.
Unfortunately, the reader might be disappointed
to learn that I did not pursue aviation after high school. As you might
suspect, the world of a teenager gets easily sidetracked in many ways, e.g.,
sports, girls, and peer pressure. Since I was keen on world affairs, and
because I was good looking and articulate—or at least I thought so—I desired to become television anchorman. I must have been dreaming, but at that age, anything
seemed possible.
So off I went to college, but a couple of years
into my major I grew disenchanted with the program. I decided to graduate
anyway in order to get my diploma. Realizing that my future in television was
bleak, I continued my studies, but in a field totally unrelated to my major. If that is not enough, as a grad student I
developed yet another passion: drumming. I even played many memorable gigs with
a Latin Jazz combo.
But…wait a minute! What about the airplanes
then? Wasn’t this paper supposed to be about my love affair with aviation? Yes,
but after so many endeavors and especially after so much focus required to
finish my thesis—honestly—airplanes were not at all in my agenda.
However, just before graduation, I traveled to a
big wedding in Mexico City. On the
way back, with a headache, but happy to be
on an airplane, I asked the flight attendant if the captain would allow me
in the flight deck( prior to the 9/11
episode, this was still permitted in some airlines).
The flight attendant swung the door open and
cued me in. This is precisely when my epiphany, revelation—or whatever you wish
to call it— took place. Needless to say, the view from the cockpit was the best
in the house. No other place could have been so entertaining, enthralling, or sophisticated.
The captain instructed me to take the “jump-seat.”
The autopilot was making corrections on a wheel called the trim; the intriguing radio
communications in the background, and the many levers and
dials were so enchanting and appealing. Due to my previous devotion to airplanes, I
rapidly befriended the pilots and asked them one thousand questions per minute.
I can’t tell you how long I spent in the flight deck, for time became sort of
warped. Was it a while, or only a short period? I don’t remember, but it was
like being in heaven.
From that day on nothing was the same anymore.
The “flying bug” bit me once again and perhaps harder than ever. I told all of
my friends about my spellbinding experience aboard an airliner. Soon after, I
subscribed to “Flight” magazine and read it from cover to cover. Many of the
articles I did not understand, but I didn’t care, so as long as I was reading
about airplanes. I also went to bookstores and bought plenty of coffee-table
books with detailed pictures of airliners and airports.
Then, my passion became an obsession. I even
bought the Microsoft Flight Simulator, and its instructional booklet, which I
had to purchase separately. I was so thrilled I spent hours—and whole
days—flying all kinds of virtual airplanes on the computer. Despite the thrill,
it was never enough. So one day it finally downed on me: I had to do it… I had
to become a pilot. My true calling had finally revealed itself. To me, it was
like an order from God.
For the first time ever, I felt that my life had
a stable bearing and that I could lead it in a straight line. Before that, I was
aimlessly wondering from one thing to the next. I focused all of my resources
and efforts into one big dream, and decided to seize it. Every morning when I
woke up, it was with one single goal in my head: I was aiming high at the sky,
and no one was going to interfere.
But if I was going to become a pilot who would
pay for my training? I immediately got a full-time job with a hotel, and later
as a teacher. I saved thousands of dollars in order to afford my dream.
Then on February 29, 2004, I went up for the
first time. From then on, it was a rocky road all the way to the end. I endured
lack of instructors, shortages of aviation gas, and lack of money to finish
training. Some maneuvers were extremely hard to execute, and at times I doubted
my skills. But in the summer of 2006, I was finally done; I obtained my
commercial pilots license, along with my instruments rating
Finally, on April 15, 2007 I flew as first
officer in a 19-seater. After so many months of unpaid work, and after so many
years of breathing and thinking airplanes, I was finally handling the controls
of a real “turbo-prop” regional airliner. I felt a lot of things came together
that day. I had unknowingly transformed into a
new and improved, "higher" version of myself.
Now, deep inside, I always think that if I can fly airplanes, I can do anything.
