Returning to the Beginning
Morning Reflection
In mid-July 1980, I arrived at Los Angeles International Airport on a short visit that lasted four days. It was a trip unlike any of my previous journeys, because it was not merely travel—it was a return to the place where my first steps toward the sky had begun.
I rented a small car and drove south through the city on a quiet journey toward Orange County until I reached the city of Anaheim. I could not afford luxury hotels, so I chose to stay in a simple third-class motel.
Yet those four days were not just a temporary stay…
They were a return to the beginning,
to the place where the dream of aviation was first born within me.
Evening Reflection
In the quiet of the evening, when I recall that visit in mid-July 1980, I remember the moment I arrived at Los Angeles International Airport. It was only a short four-day visit, yet it felt more like a journey through time than through distance. This city had witnessed my earliest years of learning, when I was a young student carrying a dream of flying that was far greater than my experience.
After arriving, I rented a small car and drove south through the roads of Orange County until I reached Anaheim. The road itself awakened memories of my days of study and training. I stayed in a simple motel because my means did not allow anything more comfortable, but the place itself was not important. What mattered was the feeling of returning to that chapter of my life.
The next day I visited the flight college where I had graduated. As soon as I arrived, the welcome was warm and unexpected. Scott, the chief instructor, greeted me with a wide smile as if welcoming one of his own students back home after a long journey. He was especially happy to see me after learning that I had become a pilot flying the Boeing 727. At that moment I realized that this college had not simply been a place of study—it had been the turning point of my professional life.
We gathered for a group photograph, with me standing in the middle surrounded by Scott and the rest of the instructors. The moment carried deep meaning for me: the student who once sat in those classrooms had now returned as a professional pilot. The photograph was not just a souvenir; it was a meeting between two stages of my life.
Scott then took me to meet the new students and introduced me to them. He asked me to share my story—from my days as a trainee at that very college to becoming a pilot for an airline. The students came from many countries—Saudi Arabia, Libya, Malaysia, Morocco, and Turkey—and each of them carried his own dream of flying. In their eyes I saw the same questions that once lived in mine: How does the journey begin? And can a dream truly become reality?
As I spoke to them, I realized that the path I had traveled was not merely my personal story. It was a message to anyone sitting in those classrooms, dreaming of the sky. Every pilot begins the same way—from a moment of inspiration, from years of patience, and from the belief that a long road can eventually lead to the cockpit.
When I left the college that day, I felt that the short visit had not simply been a trip to a city from my past.
It had been a meeting with my beginnings…
with the young man who once stood in that very place,
dreaming of the sky,
not yet knowing that one day his dream would become real.