Flashing red and yellow lights. Loud, relentless beeping. An array of digital screens both confusing and meaningless. Stan was way in over his head.
“You have any experience flying a plane?” came the voice over his headset.
The head of traffic control sounded much calmer than she had any right to considering there was a private jet in her airspace that was suddenly without its pilot and co-pilot.
“None,” Stan answered.
“Well, you’re about to get some,” she said.
Stan grinned. He didn’t know her but liked her already.
Now he just hoped he’d get the chance to meet her.
The Weekday One Hundred 