From Foster Care to Captain: My First Flight
On my first flight as captain, a man in first class started choking. I rushed to help—and froze. The birthmark on his face was the same one from a photograph I’d carried since childhood.
I grew up in foster care with that picture: me in a cockpit, a pilot’s hand on my shoulder. They told me he was my father. I believed it. That image pushed me through every exam, every exhausting shift, every failure.
At 27, I finally wore the captain’s stripes. And now… he was on my plane.
Training took over. I performed the Heimlich. On the third thrust, the blockage flew out.
“Dad?” I whispered.
“No. But I knew your parents,” he said. “I knew where you ended up.”
“I didn’t do this for you,” I told him. “I did it for a dream.”
Back in my seat, I gripped the controls. I didn’t inherit this life. I earned it.
A true story of dreams, perseverance, and earning your wings.