Different Circles

Jake left the aircraft locked but did not secure it to the tie-down rings. As had been the case in Sandpoint, he had rented a hangar to park the plane in during his stay so it would not be left out in the snow and sub-freezing temperatures. He and Laura walked into the terminal, which was virtually deserted except for the two people working the counter. While Laura worked on getting a shuttle to take her over to the passenger terminal and its rental car counter, Jake worked on securing the hangar and arranging for a couple of rampers to push the aircraft into the hangar for him. He was capable of performing this procedure himself, and he generally did so when home, but he did not have access to a tug here in Pocatello and their rules forbid him from simply borrowing or renting one.

Laura went off on her mission to secure the Jeep Cherokee that Jake had rented for the stay here (he always rented four-wheel drive vehicles in places where snow was a possibility). Jake went back out to the Avanti and fired up the engines once again. He taxied over to hangar row and stopped in front of number 27, positioning the plane so he was not blocking the access taxiway, but was aligned for easy, unpowered movement into the hangar. No sooner had he shut down than a Chevy pickup pulling a small trailer with the tug on it rolled in and parked just in front of him. The rampers had arrived.

Two young people got out of the Toyota. Both were dressed in jeans and thick beige sweaters with the name of the airport services department and their first names stenciled on them. Both wore fur hats that covered their ears. The tall skinny one had long hair that spilled out the bottom of his hat and a baby smooth face that was so effeminate in nature that Jake had to look at him carefully for a moment to determine that he was, in fact, a male and not a female. The short, chubby one, on the other hand, was unmistakably male. He had even longer hair but a full mustache and beard combo. He also had bad teeth. He was chewing on a large wad of tobacco and spitting the juice on the ground with disgusting frequency. Their names were Ron (the tall, skinny, effeminate one) and Dallas (the short, chubby, bearded one). They appraised Jake and his aircraft as he walked up to meet them.

“Goddamn,” Dallas proclaimed. “That’s one fuck of a plane you got there, dude.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “It gets me from place to place.”

“It’s an Avanti, right?” asked Ron. Even his voice was effeminate, but he seemed to know his airplanes.

“That’s right,” Jake said with a nod.

“I’ve heard about them,” Ron said, seemingly in awe. “Seen pictures on the internet too. But I’ve never actually seen one with my own eyes.”

“There’s not all that many of them around,” Jake said. “I got lucky and managed to score a used one.”

“It’s your plane?” Dallas asked him. “As in, you own it?”

“Well,” Jake said, “the bank still owns most of it currently but yes, it’s my plane.”

“Holy shit!” Dallas proclaimed. “What’s something like that cost?”

“An assload,” Jake assured him. “Anyway, you’ll be able to park it for me?”

“No problem,” said Ron. “Would you mind if I took a picture of it though?”

“Uh ... sure, why not?” Jake said with a shrug. “You have a camera with you?”

“Always,” Ron said. “I’m a photographer. Aviation is one of my favorite subjects. Let me just grab it out of the truck.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said with sincerity. After all, anything that delayed his trip to Laura’s brother’s house was okay in his book.

While Ron trotted back to the Chevy, Dallas was staring at Jake with an expression Jake knew well. Though Jake was still wearing his aviator sunglasses and had his own shoulder-length hair tucked up under a billed hat with ear flaps, the ramper was starting to realize who this rich guy with the fancy airplane actually was.

“Dude,” he said, the awe in his voice now quite apparent, “you’re ... you’re ... like Jake Kingsley, aintcha?”

“Yeah,” Jake said simply. He had learned over the years that denial in such a circumstance usually did not work. “Just popping in for a little visit to Pocatello.”

“I heard about that!” Dallas said.

“You did?” Jake asked, surprised.

“Fuck yeah! There was an article in today’s paper about how you and your old lady was gonna be visiting here. I didn’t really believe it, but goddamn!”

“That was in the paper?” Jake asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Dallas said. “This is a small fuckin’ town. Everyone knows your old lady grew up here. We’ve known that shit since you got married to her. Some reporter got word you were comin’ in so she could visit and they wrote an article about it. I heard the fuckin’ mayor is hopin’ to give you a tour of city hall or some shit like that. But then there’s a bunch of other people—Mormons, most of them—that want him to tell you and your old lady you ain’t welcome here because you’re a Satanist.”