Ficly

Busman of the Skies

“Daddy, when I’m older I want to fly just like that Earhart lady – she’s so cool!”

That had been Tommy’s cue for his daddy to pick him up and run around the room making aeroplane noises, before throwing him down and tickling him until he begged for mercy.

The simple pleasures of a five year old. How little I knew…

Thomas Bright’s father was now long dead, but his dreams of flying over the Atlantic had been all too often realised. Though all those years ago, he hadn’t planned on taking 416 sweaty tourists complaining about the in-flight movie picture quality along for the ride.

Self-importantly flicking one of the countless, mostly useless switches, Tommy wasn’t fooling anyone. All the crew knew that since the airline had installed fancy autopilot technology, the most their Captain ever had to do was check the air conditioning.

Whirring engines, meaningless beeping and inane chatter from behind the partition ensured maximum boredom.

And there was another thing:

Tommy was sick of cockpit jokes.

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