for Bill Manhire
—One time we took off, where was it, little place, up in one of the Dakotas, and we were getting into the plane, it was minus 23 degrees … Celsius?
—Fahrenheit.
—Fahrenheit exactly, and we were climbing up the steps, having walked through the snow from the place, the terminal, and I look down and there’s this poor bugger digging us out.
—Where was this?
—He’s got a shovel and he’s actually digging us out of the runway! North Dakota somewhere.
—Cold.
—Some of these other guys, passengers, were giving him a bit too. Really abusing this poor bastard for the delays and everything. I called out to him, ‘You probably want a hand with that, do you?’
—Right.
—I always remember what he said back too. He looks up and says, ‘God bless you, sir.’ Eh?
—You had the right attitude, good on you.
—I was serious. Then a while later he gets on the plane, I see this bloke, still carrying the shovel. He’s the pilot! He has a special cupboard, a locker for the shovel.
—What airline?
—Believe that?
—Tin pot.
—No, one of the main ones it was. Probably about thirty of us on it, the flight. Forty-minute flight. Commuters trying to get home. We’d been delayed a while and some of the buggers were getting annoyed, having a go at the girls at the desk, at the check-in. What for?
—See you’ve got a great positive attitude, which I think, not think, which I know is the secret of business actually.
—How can they help? How is the snow their fault? It does get cold up there though, my God. Fahrenheit.
—We need some of that here.
—The attitude?
—The snow, the extreme cold, my friend.
—I wouldn’t mind. The winters are killing us.
—So mild.
—I say to the bank, those bastards, I say, wait on a moment, everything gets cold. Eventually.
—It’s all warming up though.
—The winters are killing me.
—They’re so warm.
—I hope for snow. Early and big. Just a decent drop. Get us off to a good start, that’s all. A lot of these bastards they’re complacent as hell. Until.
—They understand only one thing in the end.
—Losses.
—Devastation.
—Heavy losses.
—Crisis.
—A crisis would be nice.
—You don’t wish it.
—No.
—I don’t wish it.
—Who would?
—Some.
—There are always some.
—I know.
—What did he say again, the pilot?
—God bless you, sir. He was the actual pilot in charge of the entire flight.
—It was a miracle you made it. Ice. Icing.
—I never had a doubt.
—That’s what carries you through.
—I suppose.
—That’s it.
—And what about it, up there, in the States? Orders wise?
—I’m hopeful.
—Yeah?
—I am.
—We’re all hopeful, aren’t we.
—We are.
—Just to be here, right now, standing in a tent in the middle of nowhere, we’re hopeful animals.