On Mondays we flew the polar route, and this was the leg I hated most. We were now furthest from anywhere.
Old Kozloff said he knew a pilot back in the seventies who went down here. “But don’ worry. Zat almost never happens now,” he reassured me. “Anyvay, our chances today vould be much better–almost fifty-fifty.” Then he laughed, long and loud.
But I’m The New Guy, so such stories are surely just part of my initiation. I hope.
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What the camera saw: