Blue Skies Read Online Free PDF Page A

something to hide. Virginia had replied that they just did it by the book.
    While she was being wanded, Nikki watched as a very nervous man who seemed awfully protective of his briefcase went straight through the check while they detained and wanded a woman in her eighties. Nikki wondered why security didn’t just adopt the JDLR method. Just Doesn’t Look Right. But no. They kept checking little old ladies and pilots they talked to every week.
    â€œHave a good flight, Nick.”
    â€œThanks, Virg. You have a great day.”
    Another man with a briefcase, in a hurry and obviously disgruntled by the long security process, rammed into her and almost knocked her off her feet. He had both height and heft and smelled like a mixture of boozeand perspiration. “’Scuse me,” he muttered. Then, seeing she wore a pilot’s uniform, he asked, “Any idea what time the nine o’clock flight’s leaving for Denver?”
    â€œNine o’clock?” she ventured.
    â€œThat’d be a first,” he grumbled, taking off down the concourse.
    So much for the respect offered to pilots in days of yore.
    Crowds didn’t part for aircrews anymore, either, and Nikki stuck close to the wall to keep from getting knocked over again. Up ahead she spotted Dixie at the coffee kiosk and went to join her. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t expect to run into you.”
    â€œOur inbound flight from San Diego is runnin’ late. I should be servin’ Bloody Marys over Albuquerque right now. Want a coffee?”
    â€œThanks. I’m a few minutes early. I’ll meet you right over there,” she said, pointing toward her gate.
    Nikki crossed the concourse and sat in the almost empty gate area, watching the passengers. They were people in ragged jeans and flip-flops. Young families who would be trying to board with car seats, Cadillac-size strollers and half the nursery. Ah—and a pilot. Not one of those distinguished gentlemen of the past, this captain was about thirty-five years old, forty pounds overweight, no hat, scuffed shoes, loose tie and coffee stains on his shirt. He hadn’t had a haircut in a while, either. What a wreck. His appearance didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
    Dixie handed her a cup of coffee and took the seat next to her.
    â€œRemember the old days?” Nikki said. “When flight attendants showed up in high heels and pilots were like rock stars?”
    Dixie took the lid off her paper cup and blew on the hot coffee. “And now they’re just like rock heads?” Nikki turned her head to smile at her friend. “Present company excluded, of course.”
    â€œRemember when people dressed up to go on an airplane ride?” Nikki persisted. “They wore their Sunday best and behaved like they were in church. Even the hijackers were polite! They didn’t want to hurt anyone—they just wanted to go to Cuba or someplace where you couldn’t get a scheduled flight.”
    Dixie tilted her head and looked askance at Nikki. “Back in the days when flight attendants were Stews, had to weigh in before each flight, and were fired if they got married?”
    â€œOkay, it wasn’t flawless, but—”
    â€œAnd the airplanes didn’t have carts and the Stews carried their five-course meals on trays, up and down the aisles in their straight skirts and high heels and precious little hats?”
    â€œWell…”
    â€œAnd don’t let us forget about girdles. Any decent woman wore a girdle then.”
    â€œEveryone?”
    â€œIt was required. And if you weren’t bosomy enough, a little padding could be issued with the uniform.”
    â€œNah-uh!” Nikki protested.
    â€œYes, ma’am. Got to have your girls right up there on your chest so Mr. Passengerman could appreciate the flight. And you better not bend over to pick up an olive off the floor because Mr. Well-Mannered Traveler would