"Racing Against Time"

As he rushed out of his small apartment, the warm sunlight streaming through the doorway highlighted the chaos that had become his morning routine. Jack, a 22-year-old first officer on a 777, groggily grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and sprinted out the door. He was already running late, and the 2-hour drive to the airport was not going to be easy. The traffic was notorious, and his only hope was to hail a taxi. He hailed a cab on the street and jumped in, collapsing onto the back seat. "Airport, please," he said, trying to catch his breath. The driver, a chatty man with a thick accent, turned around and eyed him up and down. "Hey, you're a pilot, huh?" the driver asked, nodding at Jack's uniform. Jack's face flushed, and he looked down at his feet. "Yeah," he muttered, not wanting to engage in conversation. He hated talking about his profession. It always made him feel self-conscious and shy. The driver, however, seemed not to notice Jack's discomfort. "Wow, which airline?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Jack sighed inwardly. He knew he had to respond, but he hoped to keep the conversation brief. "I'm with... um... a major carrier," he said, trying to be vague. The driver nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, cool! I've always wanted to be a pilot. What's it like flying a 777?" Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes drifting out the window. He was too tired to make small talk, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his job. "It's... uh... it's a big plane," he said, trying to deflect the question. The driver chuckled. "Well, I bet! I've seen those things take off. You guys must be heroes or something." Jack smiled weakly, feeling his face grow hot again. He didn't want to be a hero; he just wanted to get to the airport and prepare for his flight. The taxi hit a pothole, and Jack's bag slid off his shoulder. He quickly adjusted it, his eyes scanning the passing scenery. They were still 45 minutes away from the airport, and he had a lot to do before his flight. As the taxi continued to speed down the highway, Jack's mind began to wander to the tasks ahead of him. He had to review the flight plan, check the weather, and go through the pre-flight checks. The thought of it all made him feel more anxious, and he just wanted to get to the airport as soon as possible. The driver, seemingly oblivious to Jack's growing unease, continued to chat, asking him questions about his flying experience and the 777. Jack responded with monosyllabic answers, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside, willing the taxi to go faster.