Sixteen Minutes to Terminal 4

I was packed and headed out for the weekend on an unexpected trip. This time, I was flying non-revenue. For those who do not know the term, that means standby. The flight was direct, so I had a decent chance.

I checked the flight that morning to make sure it still looked good. I missed my Ma’s call, but I read her text. She said the flight still looked good and told me to be safe.

I needed that.

I thought about the years when flying non-revenue was my only option. Back then, I was grateful and dress-code appropriate. No jeans, gym shoes, athletic gear, or T-shirts. You did not play with those rules.

That was then.

This time, I was comfortable in jeans, gym shoes, a T-shirt, and a blazer. My luggage was ready, and so was I.

Then Larvell called from the other side of the Valley. He would not make it in time to drive me to the airport.

I was fine. I called an Uber.

Seven minutes later, Felix pulled up.

The ride started quiet. I was not trying to force a conversation. He seemed pleasant, so I asked how long he had been driving and if he liked it.

I was happy to hear Felix enjoyed it, so I asked what he liked most about driving.

“Freedom,” he said.

He did not have to explain much before I understood. Felix is a single father with a seven-year-old son. Driving Uber allows him to drop his son off at school, start working, and log off when he needs to.

“If my son gets sick or something, I can log off whenever I need to,” he said.

That was freedom for Felix. Being able to move when his son needed him.

Before Uber, Felix worked in corporate management and ran a warehouse. He wanted more control over his schedule. COVID had shifted how he thought about work. He was no longer interested in giving every day to the same system while still trying to figure out what he wanted next.

He had thought about leaving Phoenix for the East Coast, but moving with a seven-year-old is not simple. I understood that. When you are raising a child, a move has to make sense for both of you. I thought about my own experience with Khalil. As a parent, your choices are never just about you.

Then Felix mentioned the airport.

He had been looking at jobs there, which surprised me because flying scares him. His thinking was practical. If he worked around planes every day, maybe flying would scare him less.

That told me something about Felix.

I had asked a simple question and got more than small talk. I got a glimpse of a man parenting, working, and trying to make the next right move.

At the airport, I sat near the ticket counter and watched the standby list. When the agent called, “Standby passenger Works,” my shoulders dropped.

I had made the flight.

Felix gave me the story.

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