Quiet Sendoff

Ben stood in the terminal near Gate 13 at DFW watching the Boeing jet get slowly pushed back into the taxiway. He leaned against a wall and tried to relax as he studied the plane. Using the scrutiny he had learned as an F-15 crew chief in the Air Force, he noted the streaks across the left wing, a sure sign of loose panel screws.

He wondered how the last engine boroscope had gone. _Had anything been missed? Ignored? What kind of shape are the hydraulics in?_ The plane had pulled into the gate a mere 45 minutes earlier, and he hadn't seen anybody with a LO-PAC servicing the tires or a cart pumping hydraulic fluid.

Gas 'n Go.

_Can you really trust a union workforce to prove a jet air-worthy in 45 minutes?_ Ben mused, a frown dominating his face.

Finally, as the engines came to life and the plane began to pull away, Ben longingly reached out and touched the cold window, almost praying to a god he didn't believe in to protect his wife and son as their lives are entrusted to a consortium of lowest bidders.