True story....
In August of 2002, I made a pretty big decision. A decision that would change my career path, and ultimately my personal life, in a major way. I decided that I wanted to be an Aircraft Dispatcher.
Did I know what an Aircraft Dispatcher actually did? Not exactly. Did I have any idea how difficult Dispatch school was going to be? Absolutely not (If I had, there's no way I would have gone)! But, I was a pretty determined 23 year old and there was a class starting in October, so I took a leave of absence from my job at America West Airlines and off I went... on what my mom would call an "adventure". Boy, was it!
The drive from Arizona to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida was a lot of fun. My mom went with me and we had a blast... well... at least most of the time we did. There was that really, really, REALLY long drive through the state of Texas (They really should split that state up... 800 miles is just too dang far to drive and still be in the same state!). And then there was the afternoon where we were completely stopped, on a shaking bridge, between two 18-wheelers, in rush hour traffic, in Baton Rouge (Absolutely terrifying!). But then there was our fabulous overnight stay in the French Quarter of New Orleans (I even got some beads!). And we also got to stop off in Orlando for a quick visit with some great family friends. All-in-all, it was a great trip!
Dispatch school itself was six weeks of hell. There's really no other way to put it. It's truly one of the most challenging things I have ever done in my life. I was one of five Americans in the entire class of 26 (only 16 of us made it through), and it was non-stop cramming. My instructor likened the experience to attempting to drink from a fire hose, and that's exactly what it felt like! I met some amazingly intelligent people though, from all over the world, and today I wouldn't trade the experience or the friendships I made for anything.
After surviving the six week course, earning my license, and throwing my manuals into my instructor's swimming pool in a celebratory fashion, It was back to Arizona for me. My mom flew back to Florida from Arizona to make the 3-day trek back across the country with me. By that time, I was SO ready to be back home, and I wasn't really in the mood for many tourist stops along the way. However, my mom and I did make it a point to stop off in Pensacola to check out the "white sand" beaches we had been hearing so much about. We spent the better part of an afternoon/evening just hanging out in Pensacola. It was beautiful. The beaches were gorgeous, the shops were fun, and the seafood was to die for. We had such a good time!
As we were leaving Pensacola, to get back on the road, I grabbed a small plastic bucket (tacky souvenir from Sloppy Joe's bar in Ft. Lauderdale) and filled it with some of the sugary white sand from the beach. I'm very much a souvenir person and this is just one more thing that just HAD to make the trip home with me.
Now... You might be asking yourself, "Kasey... What on earth were you going to do with a bucket of sand?"
Well.... Absolutely, positively NOTHING!
That bucket of sand made it's way into my parent's garage, and remained there for the next six years. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Well...
My mom was e-mailing me yesterday telling me how she was cleaning up at home to prepare for Steve and I. She was going through drawers, cleaning off counters, organizing shelves, etc. At one point in our conversation, she briefly mentioned that she had just tossed out my 6-year old tacky plastic bucket that was filled with sugary white sand from Pensacola. I felt a little twinge.
I responded to my mom by telling her that it would have been nice if there was a small bottle or jar lying around that she could put just a little bit of the sand in so I could keep it. She then responded by asking me if I wanted her to go get some of the sand OUT OF THE DUMPSTER for me. I responded with "Only if you want to.", which we all know meant "YES!!!".
At that point, I realized once again that my mom just had to love me. Why??? Because only a truly loving mom would offer to go dumpster diving to retrieve a little bit of 6-year old dirt for her kid that hasn't even been in the same state as said dirt for four years.
Yep... That's my mom.
And needless to say... I have a sandwich baggie of sugary white sand from Pensacola, Florida sitting on a counter in Eagar, Arizona with my name on it!
Thanks mom... You're my hero!