CHAPTER 6 Los Angeles International Airport California Friday, 21 st October, 1977 There were two events that had worn me out this evening: the fact that I had recently turned thirty-five, and that I had flown seven legs for Golden West Airlines today. Because of my flight hours in helicopters - coupled with the fact I wasn’t under twenty-five, lacked a college education and military jet time - none of the major American airlines were even remotely interested in interviewing me. In short, I was an “over-the-hill aviation leper” in their eyes. For a ragged-assed helicopter pilot, such as myself, to get on with any airline was a colossal miracle; a condition which only added to my fatigue. ...