RSL Ch 61

In the end, Han Jae-yi and I decided to fly to Amsterdam together to celebrate my birthday. He was so adamant about it, even going as far as booking first-class tickets, that I couldn’t dissuade him.

During shift flights, pilots rest in the cockpit bunker or the crew rest area, but sometimes they can also rest in first class. He wanted to spend those few hours with me, and I didn’t have the willpower to refuse him. It’s rare to find someone who can resist a stubborn person trying to make them happy.

Today, two days before we were set to go to Amsterdam, I had a turnaround flight to Taipei. Feeling good, I arrived at the airport an hour early and gathered the flight information. Despite there being only 10 minutes left before show-up, the co-pilot I was supposed to fly with still hadn’t arrived.

Usually, the co-pilot arrives first to gather the information, and when the captain arrives, they plan the flight together and proceed with the briefing. Having ended up doing the co-pilot’s job, I glanced at the name “Kim Kyung-soo” on the schedule and smirked bitterly. He was the former air force pilot who had once forced me to declare a fuel shortage at Bangkok Airport.

Since the aircraft types are limited, there’s the luck of frequently partnering with familiar people, but it also means having just as high a chance of working with pilots you don’t get along with. The strange thing was that even though he was a captain, he was assigned as a co-pilot again this time. I tried not to hold any prejudice, but my trust in our teamwork was already wavering.

“Ah, you’re here?”

Captain Kim Kyung-soo arrived five minutes before show-up and greeted me as if addressing a subordinate.

“Hello.”

I returned a perfunctory greeting and handed him the flight documents. He looked over the materials and casually asked about the flight plan, perhaps assuming I’d let him take the PIC (Pilot in Command) role again.

“We’re expecting light turbulence at the second waypoint, so we’ll fly 300 feet lower. We’ll be using fuel tankering (carrying round-trip fuel due to high fuel prices at the destination), so I’ll request an additional 5 tons of discretionary fuel.”

“Is fuel tankering really necessary? Why not just refuel in Taipei?”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

“What?”

He looked up at me, slightly taken aback, still holding the flight plan.

“There’s no change in position. You’re the PM (Pilot Monitoring) today, Captain.”

That meant, “Today, I’m your superior.”I extended my empty hand to take the documents back. My hand hanging in the air sent a clear message: decide now whether to comply or not. After a moment of hesitation, Captain Kim Kyung-soo reluctantly handed over the flight plan, his face showing signs of displeasure.

I couldn’t care less. For whatever reason, the company had assigned me as PIC, and pilots’ authority is determined by their positions. Moreover, he had already failed to fulfill his role as a co-pilot from the start, so what complaints could he possibly have?

“Let’s head to the show-up. We’re already late.”

I left him and started moving ahead. As I passed through the corridor and entered the large briefing room, about ten cabin crew members were waiting. I greeted them briefly.

“Hello. I’m Schmitz, in charge of flight CR770 to Taipei today. Since the captain handling PM arrived late, I’ll be conducting the flight briefing myself.”

Captain Kim Kyung-soo approached with a stiff expression and joined the group.

“There are no specific issues for takeoff, but we expect turbulence mid-flight and will lower the altitude accordingly. The flight might get bumpy, so please start in-flight service as soon as possible. The approach to Taipei airport is challenging due to its location in the city center, and with rain expected, please be extra vigilant about seatbelt checks before landing. This is a turnaround flight, and we’re carrying enough fuel for the round trip, so I’d appreciate it if the local boarding process could be expedited. Cabin Manager, please begin the cabin briefing.”

“Yes. Today, we have a total of 210 passengers, 11 cabin crew members, making a total of 221 people on board. There are some available seats in business class, so you can guide any passengers who may be uncomfortable there right away. Boarding will close 10 minutes before departure. As the captain mentioned, once we arrive at our destination, we’ll start boarding immediately after the cabin cleaning is completed. Economy class is full, so please assist with service to ensure it doesn’t get delayed.”

“Understood.”

“That’s all.”

“Thank you. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one raised their hand. I always encourage the crew to ask questions at the end of the briefing, but ever since I transferred to a Korean airline, no one has ever raised their hand. While it might be because they have no questions, I’ve also wondered if it’s due to the still prevalent rigid workplace culture.

Then, one of the cabin crew members slowly raised her hand. I recognized her face from somewhere. Her face looked familiar.

“Captain, if you’re lowering the altitude because turbulence is already expected, can’t we just fly at a lower altitude from the start? It would make in-flight service easier for us.”

She glanced at the cabin manager, seeming uncertain if she was allowed to ask such a question, her voice trembling with anxiety. When I saw the blush on her tense face, I remembered. She was the crew member I had spoken to on the bus when I first arrived in Korea, the one who had flown with me to Singapore.

“Yes, we could do that, but the problem is that the lower the altitude, the more fuel the aircraft consumes. If we use 20 tons of fuel just to go to Taipei, I might get fired.”

“Ah, I see. Haha.”

She nodded in understanding and laughed softly. I wanted to respond to her smile, so I smiled back. Thanks to her, the atmosphere seemed to loosen up a bit.

One thing I’ve noticed since coming to Korea is that there’s an invisible wall between pilots and cabin crew. Cabin crew members find it difficult to approach pilots, and pilots rarely explain the flight plan to them in detail. Even without using technical aviation terms, providing them with common-sense explanations can greatly assist them in performing their duties.

I wanted to encourage more interaction like this during briefing times. That’s why I was very grateful for the small question she asked.

“Let’s head to standby.”

The ending seemed to go well, as everyone had faint smiles on their faces as they prepared to leave the briefing room. At my signal to exit first, the crew members, led by the cabin manager, left the room. The sound of cabin bags being rolled and the lively clicks of shoes echoed through the terminal. Following behind, the crew member from Singapore turned around and approached me.

“Captain, I flew with you two or three months ago.”

“I remember. We also took the bus together.”

“Oh! You remember. That was your first day, right?”

“Yes. Quite some time has passed already.”

“Right! Back then, you were a bit stern and scary, but today, you seem much more adjusted.”

“Me? Was I scary?”

I was quite surprised to hear that, as it was the first time someone had said such a thing to me. Had I been frowning too much, or was my Korean too stiff? She nodded, seemingly amused, and shared her impression.

“You speak Korean well, but how should I put it? You speak in a very textbook-like manner. ‘This and this will happen. Please do this and that.’ Like that. Haha.”

She imitated my manner of speaking and laughed.

“And when we had dinner together in Singapore, you didn’t talk much, so I was a bit scared to strike up a conversation. But today, your tone is softer, and you’re even making jokes, which is nice.”

She continued to speak with a bright smile. According to her, among the cabin crew, I was known as a “captain who’s very difficult to approach.” Many people remembered me because of my background and appearance, but no one dared to ask light-hearted questions like my age or if I had a girlfriend, so rumors just spread.

At that point, I tilted my head. How are those light-hearted questions? 

“Captain, are you really thirty?”

“Hmm… By international age, yes, but by Korean age, I would be thirty-two.”

“Oh, I see. And you’re not married, right?”

“Yes.”

Maybe because I answered right away, she asked if it was okay to ask more personal questions. Even though I agreed, she still hesitated, so I decided to answer first.

“I’m in a relationship.”

“Oh, I knew it. Did you meet them after coming here?”

“Yes. I was single when I flew to Singapore, but I met someone recently.”

“Oh, no way! Haha.”

She laughed with a hint of disappointment and playfully tapped her chest with her fist. She even joked that she should have made a move back then, blaming her lack of courage. Her carefree and cheerful personality was evident in how easily she said such things in front of me.

She quickly pulled out her phone, saying she had to share this news with the cabin crew’s group chat. The speed at which she typed with one hand was impressive.

When I first came to Korea, I found it uncomfortable and slightly unpleasant how curious people were about others’ lives. But as time passed, I realized they didn’t mean any harm. They’re just as open about sharing their own stories as they are about asking others. This helped them get close quickly and easily connect with strangers. I think I get it now.

“We have a monthly gathering, would you like to join us next time? Oh, but it’s only for singles. There are a few co-pilots who come regularly.”

“Do you drink alcohol?”

“Well, we mostly eat and drink. Some ground crew members join us too. Oh! Even the flight duty manager comes. It’s a good chance to lobby if you want to change your schedule.”

“That sounds tempting. I’ve been feeling lonely since I don’t know many people at the company.”

“Please come, Captain! Please! Give me your phone.”

She stopped at the gate entrance, found me on her messaging app, and added me as a contact. The app recommended by Co-pilot Jeon Seong-wook was proving useful. The chat window she opened to confirm my contact showed the familiar yellow bear waving, an image frequently sent by Co-pilot Cho Min-woo.

“I’ll contact you when we have the next gathering. I’m being hailed as a hero for recruiting you, so you have to come!”

“Haha. Yes. If I don’t have a flight, I’ll definitely go.”

She walked away with a satisfied look as if she had accomplished something significant. But I was already starting to feel sorry, predicting what might happen in the future.

She probably doesn’t realize how dull and boring it is to hang out with someone like me who’s not good at talking. Later, they might even scold her for bringing someone like me. Still, I was grateful for her kindness, so I checked her name tag once more. Choi So-young. Before I forgot, I changed her name in my contacts to her full name.

After parting ways with her, I entered the cockpit. Captain Kim Kyung-soo was still wearing his usual stern expression. Disliked people, new relationships, and even those I was once close with but had grown distant from—it was just another day in a typical workplace.