Positive Space.

Month Eleven. Lineholder. #SLC.

I duck into a bathroom stall in the Salt Lake City airport and slam the door shut before the tears start flowing. I'm sick, again, for the fourth time in a month. My checking account is empty. I'm truly exhausted. I'm torn between life decisions. I'm homesick.

Backing up to a few days ago. On an overnight in Nashville, I get a phone call from an unknown number. I answer.

It's Mainline calling. The Mainline. My dream job. They want to fly me down, positive space, to their headquarters to interview me.


I had thought that I was happy where I was at. I really did. Now everything is changing and my mind is racing, thinking of the possibilities.

Long overnights in Amsterdam. Luxurious airplanes. First class. That red scarf.

I am excited. Thrilled, even. I make plans to get out my old interview outfit and polish my heels. I am dreaming of how I will do my hair and makeup. I'm a little scared.

The next day, after a crazy journey back to Seattle, I am reunited with my boyfriend. I tell him about the interview.

And then I realize that if I get this job, I will be based in New York. Or Boston. Or possibly Minneapolis again.

If I get this job, I will probably never be based back in Seattle ever again.

That thought stays with me for the next few days. I try to remind myself of the prestige that comes along with a Mainline company like this, and how this would be a big step in my career.

I can't stop looking at photos of my boyfriend and my cat, and our happy little home.

What am I doing?

This week, I've been working stand-ups. It's exhausting, but good pay. I get to work with familiar folks, the same pilots and flight attendants that I see every day. One morning, I run into another crew that I haven't worked with in months. There are hugs and inside jokes. They tell me that they miss me.

I pause, then tell them about the interview. They look sad for a moment, then they smile. "Well, we will sure miss you," they say.

"Go get 'em," one of the pilots adds.

Today I woke up in Salt Lake City. I check my base's little Facebook page and scroll through the feed to see what my little airline family is up to.

And then I check my e-mail. The mainline company wants me to fly out tomorrow morning. There is a purchased ticket sitting in my inbox. They are awaiting my confirmation.

I head to the airport, feeling tired and stressed. I am getting sick again. I don't know what to do.

And then I run into the first officer from the crew the other day. He smiles wide and is genuinely excited to see one of his airline family members. He asks how I am doing, and in a moment of weakness, I consider asking his advice.

But I don't. I just smile, and mumble something about a cold.

"Well, you take care of yourself, okay? I'm serious, do whatever's necessary to be happy and healthy. Do what you need to do."

He gives me a hug and waves goodbye.

And suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do.

Happy flying!


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