Yes, I flew with an intoxicated F18 pilot, his hands trembling as he tried to calm his nerves.

Let’s Call Him Maverick

I will keep his real name confidential.

I was on a direct flight to Washington D.C. to make a brief presentation, and attend a conference for pediatric emergency medicine doctors participating in multi-center research.  I was in DC for 20 hours.  I spent 4 hour in meetings, and a few more chatting/networking after the meetings.  It felt surprisingly productive despite my short time attending (there are 2 more days of the conference that I cannot attend).

My flight to DC on Southwest Airlines was full — Maverick sat down in the middle seat next to me.  I did not learn until later his name was Maverick.

I offered him a piece of gum, which he politely declined. I spent the next hour spacing off, occasionally reading news ony my phone.

Halfway through the flight, he asked me if I was traveling to home or away from home.  I told him was I was traveling away from home, for work.

I Hate Small Talk

I love discussion and debate, I hate small talk.  I love unexpected conversations that delve deep into topics that are important to someone. I hate discussion of the weather.

I love speaking in with someone who isn’t a part of my regular circle.  The chance to truly learn more about someone or something outside of my usual methods and from a different perspective is not common. It does happen often, but I love it when they do.

I’ve realized when having these unexpected encounters, I avoid talking about my own work.  That’s the most common thing to people ask about, but the thing I usually least want to discuss.

As enthusiastic as I am about my research projects, I rarely discuss it with people not involved in the work.  Outside of updates to my wife, I rarely discuss it with family.

Most strangers are interested in my life working in the pediatric ER, but I have a difficult time having casual conversations about it.

The “routine patients” — kids with the colds or sprained ankles or whatever — is not what they usually want to hear about. The ones they think about — the “exciting patients”, ie critically ill children  — I usually only talk about when I need some catharsis, or to delve into the care itself to learn how to improve the care I deliver. The suffering of other people’s children just isn’t a casual topic of conversation. I think people inherently understand that, so it’s uncommon that people probe too much.

So all I usually tell them is the work is occasionally very stressful, but I enjoy what I do and where I do it. Then I steer the conversation to other topics.

So when I told Maverick I was on a work trip, I didn’t elaborate.  I asked him why he was traveling; he said he was going to meet with some government officials for his work.

Maverick was a couple of drinks in, and appeared to be in the mood to talk a little about himself, or at least indulge my questions.

A Bloody Mary To Calm The Nerves

It turns out, Maverick is a 20-year military veteran.  He is only a few years older than me, but only a couple of years out of the service.  He is working as a contractor on a local military base, and trying to transition to civilian life.

When he revealed he had only recently left the military, and told me he was a former military pilot, it was time to learn more.

After controlling his destiny in the cockpit for so many years, he doesn’t feel comfortable as a passenger on a plane, so when he’s a passenger, he drinks to calm himself.  I noticed hands were a little shaky pouring the tomato juice; whether that was alcohol related or something else I didn’t ask.

Twenty years in the military gets you a full pension.  People that stay in the military longer are often looking to climb the ranks, and he had no interest. His contacting work was a test to see if that was really the next phase of his life.  He was back home with his wife — a healthcare professional (who used to work close to where I currently work).

Looking out the airplane window, he remarked how often he saw the tops of clouds, and how it never got old.  The adrenaline rush from going Mach 3 in his F18, how he maintains his pilot skills, and has even toyed with the idea of becoming an airline pilot for FedEx or UPS — the passengers aren’t as annoying on those trips.

Top Secret Clearance — I Don’t Have It

Maverick has a lot of stories that he is not allowed to share.

He served three tours overseas, including Afghanistan and Iraq.  He flew a lot of missions, and apparently dropped a lot of bombs.

We danced around politics — I enjoy debate, but I wanted to learn, not antagonize.  I wasn’t sure of his political leanings (though I had guesses),.  The US military has caused plenty of harm with its bombing in these parts of the world, and as a Muslim it’s easy to get worked up over the role the US military has had in the death of tens of thousands (way more, really) of innocent people in these predominantly Muslim countries.

Maverick lamented that he joined the service to make people’s lives better, and was unsure if that really happened.   We both agreed that the foreign policy of both current and recent US presidents left a lot to be desired.

Hello Caller, I’m Listening

Most of his war-time stories are not able to be shared.  He doesn’t discuss with family or friends, but it’s clear he wants to do so — or at least needs to share a little bit with someone for his own mental health.

Love or hate the US military’s role overseas, our veterans mental health is woefully provided for when they return from combat.  I think much of our countries involvement overseas since 2001 has been a giant boondoggle.  We have politicians and military leaders that sometimes are aching for a fight, but it is the rank and file soldier that bears the brunt of those orders.

As much as I want to believe in changing the way our country has approached conflict in these countries, it’s the boots on the ground (or in the air or on the water) that are receiving and inflicting trauma, and are returning home with physical and mental scars and

Our Separate Ways

We spoke for an hour, and introduced ourselves by first name as the flight landed.  I did tell him a little more about my work —  it turns out he had visited our ER in the past (I think with a child of his own, though he didn’t make that clear).

By the time I retrieved my overhead bag and turned around, he was almost off the plane, without a farewell.  I later saw him with a large group a few minutes later, with what appeared to be co-workers on the same trip.

I walked right by him twice (to/from the restroom), and he never made eye contact.  It felt as if he was avoiding looking at me.

I assume he didn’t want to have to explain to his co-workers why he was exchanging pleasantries and on a first name basis with some random guy from the airplane.  I wasn’t bothered.

Sometimes it’s just easier to keep quiet then to open up a huge box of something you don’t want to share.  He probably did not want to explain to 10 co-workers what we had spent an hour talking about.

Without this blog, it’s almost certain wouldn’t share the details of this encounter with anyone.  I am sharing is because encounters such as these are the reason I enjoy blogging — it’s a way to encounter people I otherwise would not.

These encounters bring enlightenment and illumination to my life, even if they are only a small, small percentage of my time.  I’m currently attending the first ever White Coat Investor Conference, where I’m meeting many of the people I have to this point encountered online only.  I’m hopeful to have a few good conversations and perhaps make a few new real-life friends.

After all, there is a limited number of times you can discuss how your 4-year old constantly peer in public or , before you want to talk about someone else’s life.