The Last Hurrah

As we move through our chosen livelihoods, most of us form an image of what the final day on the job will be like. Our “last hurrah”, if you will. Some envision accolades and applause while others have less grandiose (and more realistic) expectations. Regardless, that final act takes on a life of its own as the dreamed-of day approaches. And rarely does the reality live up to the fantasy we’ve constructed in our head. So what? No, seriously, so what? Just because the final curtain comes down a bit crooked, does it negate the body of work created over the years? I’d say no and have a personal anecdote for the basis of my argument.

Yes, I’m recently retired. Four months early and I’ll spare you the convoluted rationale behind my early departure. Suffice it to say that a good portion of my retirement money depended upon the performance of the stock market and the August swoon on Wall Street was significant. Luckily, I was afforded a “look-back” of 90 days. And 90 days ago the market was doing pretty good so I took the money and ran.

An airline pilot plans for what is called a “finis-flight”: one last sequence accompanied by a significant other and perhaps a hand-picked First Officer and Flight Attendant crew. A desirable layover is also sought so as to spend it partaking of good food and libation. The icing on the cake includes a water cannon salute provided by the airport Fire Department as the retiring Captain taxies the aircraft between two firetrucks spraying an arch of water. This is generally accomplished after the last landing as the aircraft heads to the gate. Sounds kinda neat, doesn’t it?

I’d be lying if I told you that the scenario I just described did not play over and over in my head as my final flights (to New York’s Kennedy and back to San Francisco the next evening) on August 28th/29th drew closer. I had my F/O (Irene) and several F/A’s that I hold in high regard on the crew list, my wife was ticketed in the cabin, and all was well with the world. My last hurrah was going to be memorable.

Until the “other” Irene raised her ugly countenance. You know...the hurricane? Yup, she was scheduled to arrive in the New York area at just about the same time as I was. Guess who won out on that race? You’re right again: my flight was canceled. My chief pilot offered another flight early the next week, but my wife could not transfer her ticket due to other cancelled passengers filling up any and all available seats. To fly a special trip without her would have been anything but special, so I elected to pass. As a result, my finis-flight was the previous 2 day trip (to Miami and back) and I had little to show for that one save for a look backwards in an attempt to remember as much of it as possible.

Disappointing? Without a doubt. Frustrating? Yes, but, in a twisted sort of way, is there a more fitting end to an airline career in the 21st century than with a cancellation? And, in the great scheme of things, does it really matter? In over 26 years with the airline and almost 20 as a Captain, I did not bend one piece of aluminum nor put any crew member or passenger in harm’s way. That is my body of work and one in which I am most proud.

Athletes do not usually bask in the limelight of a memorable last at-bat or TD catch or buzzer-beating three point basket. Doctors don’t get to save a life on their last day, nor do lawyers win a high-profile case as they walk out the door. Cops don’t catch the crook, either. And many others walk out of buildings with a cardboard box holding the personal remnants of their office or cubicle, victims of bankruptcy and the like. No, many “last hurrahs” contain nothing close to a triumphant cry.

I encourage each and every one of you to allow yourself the fantasy of conjuring up your ideal departure from your life’s work. But don’t be overly surprised when your “Irene” shows up to dash it into the rocks. And don’t be overly disappointed, either. Remember your body of work, built slowly over the years, and never forget the positive impact you had, day in and day out, as you plied your trade and lived your dream. And walk away with your head held high and your eyes on the future. That last strike out or unsuccessful surgery or hung jury or, yes, cancelled flight dims in comparison to the overall effort expended over the years. And, if we’re lucky, the best is yet to come...