Eric Batdorff

My aviation journey didn’t start with any real passion for aircraft, joy at the prospect of flying, nor any interest in the engineering capabilities of these wonderful machines.

Nope, to me, they were glorified taxis that had enabled humans to move from point A to point B with a bit more ease. I didn’t appreciate the immense power that turbofan engines generated, nor did I bother with more than a glance at the wings to ensure that they were firmly attached and wouldn’t snap mid-way through our journey. 

When I had to board a commercial airliner, often to visit my relatives on the east coast, my thoughts would drift to annoyance rather than anticipation.

Why did the stewardess wear false smiles that screamed ‘I murder puppies on the weekends’ while applying enough mascara to blot out the sun? Why bother giving useless safety briefings at all? Everyone knows we’d be buried in a flaming inferno if the engines really gave out. Are there any children in close proximity to me? Will they attempt to rupture my eardrums if we hit turbulence? Is it actually unethical to toss them out of the emergency exit mid-flight? Why hasn’t economy class been accurately reclassified to ‘peasant prison ward?’ 

Typical thoughts running through a young boy’s mind, I’m sure.

As a child we moved around quite a few times until my parents decided to settle in Las Vegas, Nevada. Ahh yes… to live amidst the desert, the scorpions, and the mafia. You might ask yourself, do people really choose to live there? Yes, and try not to judge too harshly, we all make mistakes in life. It’s similar to being a local tribesman from the desert planet Arrakis in the movie Dune. Ever seen pictures of beautiful rolling sand dunes that shift in the wind? That’s… not Las Vegas. Our land is hard packed dirt, rock and clay that causes even mild rains to flood across the city. The days become so scorching hot that many people imitate sun-averse insects by skittering from shadow to shadow.

We emerge from our homes in the early morning, spending our days hiding in the shade and buildings all day long, until we resurface at night when temperatures have dropped below molten magma. Ever driven along with your windows rolled down during the day, and it feels like you’ve poked your head inside of an oven at max heat? No? Ya, I don’t recommend it. 

The next question you might ask is, well then why live there? 

I… don’t have an adequate answer for you, sorry.

After graduating high school, I was given the opportunity to live with my uncle while working as a computer networking intern at a Marriott hotel in Hong Kong. Eager to abandon my desert paradise, I hopped on an intercontinental flight from Los Angeles to Hong Kong via Cathay Pacific. I don’t recall the aircraft I flew on at the time, but I do distinctly remember the food being very good in comparison to other airlines. It didn’t have the lingering taste of moldy cardboard wrapped in cellophane and sadness that I’d been so accustomed to eating on American Airlines flights in the past. 

The year seemed to fly by (pun intended), it was a transformational period for me in learning how to work and interact with a different culture in such a professional environment. The Chinese are extremely driven to excel in their respective fields, and while their knowledge and work ethic continue to impress me, it’s their humility towards their peers that I still try to emulate on a day-to-day basis. They love to find any reason to celebrate after work — and to drink.

Look, the Irish may have a stereotype as hard drinkers, but I’ve visited Ireland before and I’ll tell you right now, they got nothing on the Chinese. When they decide to properly celebrate, they do it with the same fervor that got the Great Wall built. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Art of War has a few extra chapters that they’ve kept hidden pertaining to tactical drinking.

There’s an instance that I still recall as quite a culture shock. I was once sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch with some colleagues when a news story came on about an American who owned over a hundred guns. He had rows and rows displayed proudly along the walls in his home and was showing off different types of weapons. All of us watching thought it was ludicrous to posses so many weapons, and they asked me if I knew anyone like that. I assured them that I didn’t, and that those types of people are quite uncommon. After all, I only owned three.

After my internship ended, I found myself on a plane headed back to planet Arrakis. It felt a bit depressing that after all I’d experienced and grown in such a short year, I was returning to a desert penal colony with no idea what to do moving forward. I had neither the money nor the interest in pursuing a college degree without an idea on the direction I wanted to head in. So similar to many other adventerous young men who needed a bit of structure in their lives, I joined the military.

See you in part two. Will it involve battles, blood and glory? No, not at all.

But I did once get thrown into military jail for playing an elaborate prank, so there’s that.