Tower personnel barked out orders
Requested status updates
Tracked tiny blips on their screens
Scanned the dark skies for lights
Anything out of place
Anything that wasn't where they wanted it
On the ground
Or hanging in space
Ground crews humped packages
Transported passengers
Delivered food
Marshaled aircraft and equipment into position
A veritable anthill of activity
Moving on marked paths
As distinct as real ants pheromone trails
Marked with lines, symbols, lights
People rushing around
Concentrating on their jobs
A hive of activity
And then there is me
Sitting in the ramp Jeep
My toolbox at my side
Cigarette in my lips
Eyes half lidded from lack of sleep
Knowing that I look like shit
And not caring overmuch
Glancing at my watch
You are fifteen minutes overdue
Due in at 1750 GMT
I got the radio call from Maintenance Control
Saying you had run into headwinds
So I'm not worried
I take a drag on the cigarette
Letting the ash tail dangle
And close my eyes
Oblivious to the hectic activity outside the cab of the Jeep
You land
Your silvery flanks wet with condensed crystallization
Icy fingers trace where your fuel still sits inside your wings
Like a frosty mug of beer at the bar
As I walk around you
I reach up my fingers
Tickling your underside
Dragging my nails across your lower wing skin
Piling up ice frost under my fingernails
Freezing my fingertips
As I scan your frame
For anything out of place
My hands reach out and grasp parts of you
Wiggling here
Tugging there
Looking for looseness that should not be
A rattle
A chafe
But you are perfect
As perfect as I'd wish you to be
No flat spots on your tires
Lights shining as they should
Systems checking A-OK
Fluids filled to the brim
You quiver with power
Ready for what's in store
Loaders slide pallets inside of you
Locking them in with mechanical sounds
Flight crew changing out
You'll be in new fresh hands
All too soon it's time to go
And you are pushed back by airport personnel
Engines flaring to life
Briefly bumping up in power
Just to get you rolling
You taxi out of sight
Around the far corner
Into the dark night
One of those roaring takeoffs in the next few minutes
That will be you
Flying on until you come back again
To be caught
To be touched
To be turned
Only to burn
Away once again
The radio crackles next to me on the seat of the Jeep
I snap my eyes open
My cigarette nothing by ashes now
And cold
Falling from my lips to my lap with a curse
You're on final approach
I hop out to welcome you
You sexy aluminum bitch
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