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At the start of February 1987, I was sitting in the cockpit at Nellis early one morning, awaiting our passengers’ arrival, when a Key Air stewardess popped in and asked if we wanted coffee. We both declined, and as she left, she casually said, “Hey, guys, I hear Presidential is going to close down its Miami base.”
The captain and I exchanged blank looks.
This was news to us, dear reader, and made very little sense, as this was one of Presidential’s more important and lucrative routes. Initially I disregarded this piece of intelligence as idle Key Air gossip. Later I reconsidered its source – remembering how “pillow talk” always gives a stewardess the inside track on what’s actually going down.
Regarding an airlines’ “health,” always listen to the stewardess.
Sure enough, the following week word filtered out of Washington Dulles – Presidential was closing its Miami base.
Then, in the middle of February, a Key Air stewardess asked if it was true Presidential was going to sell its main terminal at Washington Dulles to Continental Airlines?
This intelligence floored me, dear reader. Presidential had built its main terminal at Dulles, from scratch, and was their pride and joy.
Presidential Airways’ Terminal at Washington-Dulles Airport.
At the end of February Continental took possession of Presidential’s Washington-Dulles Terminal.
I was never privy to the total story, dear reader. However, these losses Presidential suffered were evidently the result of a Key Air backroom takeover - which would ultimately fail.
Key Air raiding Presidential Airways’ vault.
Nonetheless, my left testicle informed me that Presidential was on the bankrupt trail. Requiring me to face a bleak truth – I had to make a choice. First choice: Hang around. While having my chump-change pay reduced further as the airline struggles to survive - watching it fly apart in pieces like a helicopter does in “ground resonance” - as it slowly beats itself to destruction.
Helicopter entering “ground resonance”- ultimately beating itself to destruction.
Second choice: Bail out now. Leading the rush for the door – avoiding being trampled in the stampede.
In 1986, on the 15th of March, I had arrived in the States from Saudi Arabia. In 1987, on the 15th of March, I departed the States bound for Bangkok.
I caught a ride on British Airways to London – thence on to Bangkok.
I had kept my promise to myself, dear reader, sticking it out for one year exactly - during which I’d learned many new things regarding survival in America. The most important realization being: There’s no longer a place for me in American society – as it basically lacks the freedom I had experienced in Southeast Asia. Then again, despite being increasingly homesick for this geographical location, was I merely fantasizing and deluding myself, or did I in truth belong there?
Regardless of my misgivings, in the words of Willie Nelson, I found myself “On The Road Again.” The flame of that hope in my heart, for a new life in the States, was brutally snuffed out by Presidential Airlines’ slide into oblivion.
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