Black Boots On

They laughed as they asked, "Jay, are those boots you're wearing? Why?!"
Well, I only answer with a simple remark of, " They mean a little more than just foot wear..."
It was a warm, Prescott evening. The fall season of Prescott always seems just about perfect for me. The sun goes down late, and still rises bright and early. And the late afternoons to evenings, touch with a blood red sun, and hint with dashes of midnight black and dawn purple. I was out with my Multi-Engine Commercial (and single engine add-on commercial) instructor, Stephen Von Fange. Steve...him and I always had enough time to go out one weekend and treat ourselves to the infamous Big Jack Daddy burger. Ever since he first introduced them to me, we seemed to grow another addiction outside of propellors and wings. As we joked and celebrated another hard-working week, I finally broke him the news.
I told him that I was an official commercial pilot of the ERAU Seminole. The declaration brightened his eyes, and he only could reminisce how much harder he was on me than his other students, and how we both traversed down some of the toughest paths unimaginable. We laughed, with our mouths wide open and juicy meat and onion rings, barely able to stay in. I then reminded him of our promise.
Every day, throughout a whole year of him and I flying, he would always schedule me to fly at 0530AM. He always said that it will happen when I become a CFI, and that as a freshman, it was my duty to be brutalized that way I am toughened for the harder challenges that flight sometimes brings in the future. Barely awake, I would always show up at 0515, having my attire, my flighgt bag, the most current Weight and Balance sheet, and the preflight instpection completed. I then allowed myself to get that last bit of heaven, 15 more minutes of sleep. "Oh please! I want to fly, but let me sleep a little bit more," I whispered under my sigh. Then as it felt as a second of sleep, I heard the boots. "Click, clack, click, clack"... it was Steve. Right then, I had to wake up because it was time for business. And every morning, 5 days a week, it proceeded the same nature.
As my training progressed to the end, Steve and I made a promise. We promised each other, that no matter what, when I became a Multi- engine commercial pilot, I would purchase a pair of boots. And in return, Steve would buy a pair of Nike Air Force Ones.
That promise, finally came, to the closure of the hands shaken. And after dinner, Steve and I went to the best shop for boots. Tried on a bunch, and finally, found my match with black Ariat boots. Felt awkward to walk in them at first blush, I couldn't swag my usual swagger. But they felt good. They felt, with every strike of the heel, like authority. And the following toe touch, cicked a sense of generosity. And with the heel-to-toe, ryhthm I could walk a different swagger. And Steve, he noticed that I felt it too. A sense of command, and a sense of compassion, senses of a certified flight instructor.
That night only carried on to my addiction to the boots. It attracted my eyes because of the uncanniness of an "asian cowboy", but I liked it, oh...I loved it.
The boots have been everywhere, and always with Steve. He was there to laugh and discuss life with me, he was there to smoke a cigar with me, and he was there to tread swamps of pain with me. And these boots have been there, and back, and back again. I have travelled much of Arizona, Austin, Texas, Los Angeles and Fremont, California, with these boots. I have flown with another excellent instructor, only with these boots on. Everytime I flew, (and fly), I wear these boots.
" So..., why Jay?"
"These boots are more than just footwear. Do you see these white laces? Each one is so rough, and forcefully pinched in through the leather, binding years of experience and knowledge into one leg. And take a step back. Do you see the designs? So beautiful, so confident. It represents my flights and experience wil my instructor. We have sewn these boots together, and bound a friendship so rare between instructor and student. Now, I am an instructor, only instructing like my instructors have. Boots of Steve, slacks of Ryan, polos of Jason, necklace of Ken, and finally headset of me."
These boots finish the professionalism that I strive. These boots show life. These boots teach laughter and pain. These boots fly with me.
"So, buddy, that's why."

Night

Darkest night, my soul drifts with the cool wind. My mind has finally succumb to the power of relaxation. The night is late, but young. I look up, searching for stars to entice my imagination, sparkle my thoughts, and glimmer youthful thoughts. No, it is not the night of treachery, deceit, murder, or temptation. It is a night soothing. The creek below me rushed over, with the sound as caressing, as the water flow over the rocks. Then, a bright light shown upon the side of my eye. I look up once again, to see the moon. Brighter than it has been for awhile.

I stand up, from my prowl, and stare into it. I gaze at its majesty, see its grayer holes and craters, and stare at its lonely wonder. Begin to torque my back, and force my shouler blades to reach aft as far as possible. I tilt my head back, and I begin to howl. Feelings of independence, loneliness, courageousness, and ferocity begin to shudder my spine. The hairs on my body begin to stand to the tingle, and I settle back to my prowl. All four legs begin to appear, and my nose and mouth only take form of a snout, with fangs showing their naked bare. My eyes turn a shade yellow, and my pupils dilate to vertical. My tail curved so slightly, and I sit. Howl once more. I hear the echo with my keen ears, and begin to sprint towards it, disappearing into the dark night, with only the moon to comfort me.