The Dog’s Bed (…there’s no place like home).

There is an old saying in our profession, “Never follow the airline with your house”. Although the origin of this expression is not clear, the meaning is quite easy to define. It stems from the uncertainty of the future in the airline industry. What has happened many times in the past is that you start working for a company and then the employment circumstances change, such that they require you to move from your original airport where you were based to another one possibly a long way from where you call “home”. It is tempting thereafter to sell the house and move the family to the new base airport so that the commuting time (by ground transportation) is reduced. Unfortunately what often occurs within the charter airline world is that the airline goes bust, ceases operations and you are left in a city where you didn’t want to live particularly and without a job to boot. The situation is made worse if your nearest and dearest has given up his/her job to be with you…

All sorts of flying machinery go past the window while waiting for our passengers

Of course we should not be surprised about the peripatetic nature of our job, after all we do work in the ‘travel’ industry so the clue is in the name, but we all still need somewhere to call home. In fact regardless of occupation (or even lack of it) ‘home’ is important to everyone. To paraphrase many clichés, there really is “no place like it*”; it’s “where the heart is”; John Denver would be taken there via “Country Roads”; Capt James T. Kirk of Starship Enterprise might say “Mister Sulu lay a course for” it; ET was always trying to phone there and websites always have a page for it. In my own case, I have lost count of the number of times after arriving back from a journey halfway round the planet; I have collapsed into bed saying to myself, “I love my home!”

“every day you spend in a hotel… that day will never come again in your life…”

I think it is only when you are forced to leave home that you really appreciate the value of what most people with normal jobs can take for granted. Of course they will often say they envy us ‘travellers’ who seem to be on a jolly for much of our lives, but there is an old saying which states that “every day you spend in a hotel… that day will never come again in your life…” and that is a really sobering thought when you consider it.

Sand coloured vehicles were everywhere — somewhere hot and dusty

I recall a very long trip once when our crew had been away for many days, which seemed like weeks and we were all moaning about the length of time away from our loved ones. The final flight for us was a military trooping flight from somewhere very hot and dusty in the Middle East back to the UK and we were waiting for our ‘passengers’ to arrive. The clock ticked by and the aircraft was fully prepared. We were all fuelled up and ready to go, with all of our flight planning completed. Of course, as a commercial airline crew just having reported for duty, we all looked immaculate in our uniforms with gold stripes, bright white shirts and blouses. As the OAT was 40 degrees plus, we made the most of the air-conditioning in the cabin of the B767. Looking out from the windows of the flightdeck high above the military apron, drab sand coloured vehicles were everywhere. Similarly dressed personnel were all sweating in the heat of a desert afternoon to load the cargo holds of military transport aircraft nearby — it was clear they were working as a closely co-ordinated team.

Still there was no sign of our passengers, of which there should be over 200, all ranks. We had yet another brew of tea and chatted together with the on duty military dispatchers. Finally they perked up and said that word had been received the pax were inbound to the airbase. Soon in a scene reminiscent of many war movies, there were several incoming helicopters, large ones with two rotors, Chinooks.

As the huge thundering beasts settled onto the concrete in clouds of hot choking dust, men and women in dusty desert camouflage uniforms emerged and began to form into groups with huge amounts of baggage, body armour, weapons etc. There was more waiting for us as they were marshalled to areas to hand over weapons and ammunition then they were finally ready for boarding.

Tired smiles from dirty faces met our impeccably dressed flight attendants

As they climbed the steps to the airliner cabin and the cool air-conditioned, civilised surroundings you could see the fatigue in their faces. Coming straight from the “Theatre of Operations” — otherwise known as a war zone, the strain of living in those conditions for weeks on end was very clear. Tired smiles from dirty faces met our impeccably dressed flight attendants with their cheerful “Welcome aboard” greetings and I noticed from my position in the forward galley that the aisle carpet was turning into a kind of beige colour with the sand from the boots of two hundred plus soldiers.

We completed our departure briefing and sat patiently in the cockpit…

With all the able bodied passengers onboard, we now had to wait for two stretcher cases to arrive — they came in on a separate helicopter. Myself and the other pilots completed our departure briefing now and sat patiently in the cockpit while outside we could observe the medical personnel lifting the stretchers from the ‘cab’ into a camouflaged ambulance for the short ride across to our ship. The expertise, tenderness and care with which the medics lifted and carried the injured — with all their Intravenous drips and paraphernalia, was extremely moving. ‘In safe hands’, is a good way to describe the situation of the wounded soldiers. These were the lucky ones, we knew all too well from the TV that many more of their comrades had not been so lucky…

Now… we were ready for the ‘home run’…..

The DAMO (Duty Air Movements Officer) came into the flightdeck one final time to shake hands and get the final paperwork and I could see from the overhead panel that only the left forward door remained open — all cargo holds closed. Now… we were ready for the ‘home run’. The Senior Flight Attendant came in and I confirmed to her the flight-time. She replied “two hundred and twenty one passengers onboard Captain, am I clear to close up?” I could see from her face she was not her usual cheery self. It was the first time she had seen them come straight from the front line and it was a shock. I tried to keep my voice steady as I said, “Yes close up please… we’re on our way home”.

Over the years I suppose my kids have become accustomed to their Dad saying some pretty odd things. Like the time when they were around 7 or 8 years old and were asking me what I thought they should ‘collect’? Did I think stamps or butterflies would be better? I replied “You should try to collect pound coins like your father!” So when it comes to talking about home and when you think about how often we have travelled and how far, it will come as no surprise that we have some in-family sayings on this subject also.

“NO DAD! This is NOT our HOME!”

Sci-fi movie aficionados may be familiar with the script of the film Blade Runner, when J.F. Sebastian arrives home and his two pet androids greet him at the door with **“Home again, home again, Jiggity-Jig”.

I am not sure why, but I have often said this myself as I pull up outside our house in the car and apply the parking brake — it’s an old family joke with the kids. A few years ago when we first moved to Athens in Greece, our children were having a difficult time adjusting to their new environment and they were still mentally thinking of the UK as their ‘home’ — this despite the fact that we had cut our ties there and sold the family house. Our move abroad was semi-permanent. One time when I did my Blade Runner impersonation in the car after shutting down outside our villa next to the beach, I was met with a chorus of, “NO DAD! This is NOT our HOME!”

I was taken aback by their strength of feeling on the subject and searched for a way to help them psychologically adjust to our airborne Gypsy lifestyle. I looked into their young faces and their eyes told me they really needed something to believe in, something tangible; a warm positive way of thinking about where we all lived together. I said slowly, “Look guys. It’s not places, houses or buildings which are important. People are important — the family is most important to us. You have to think of it this way… our HOME is where the dog’s bed is and that’s it, okay?” They both nodded in assent, they finally understood — we were home.

* “There’s no place like home” — Dorothy in Wizard of Oz..

**The origin of “Home again, home again Jiggity-Jig” is actually even older than the 1982 film. It was part of a Mother Goose nursery rhyme, “To market to market, to buy a fat pig, home again, home again, jiggety-jig”.