We rolled out of bed at 0415, two alarms having been set for the short night. Literally sleeping with the cards, we stepped around the "to-go" stack - Steve Szpyrka's hand-made presentation box (described later as "the nicest they'd ever seen" at the NMB - we told them we wanted it back!), filled with three thousand thirty seven votes of confidence, various computer equipment, adapters and smart phone for the remote upload, digital camera, spare batteries, maps, and the all-important NMB application.

There was something about this day - I took some extra time to get that perfect shine on the shoes, and I noted an extra bit of starch and care with my shirt by Ilona; the sleeves just right, collar stiff. Her outfit, chosen days prior after much deliberation.

Bob arrives, right on schedule at 0545, pitch black outside. His shiny Tahoe (a gift from his dad), gassed up and ready to go. His wife has packed a cooler with various soft drinks and snacks. I note that Bob's uniform appears crisp as well. We quickly load, throw in a case of water for the drive, and we're off.

On schedule for our rendezvous with Steve B. and Mark K., we find them in the Breezewood Starbucks parking lot - I note a couple more crisp uniforms.

Bob asks if I would mind driving - he arrived very late the night before from a trip and is exhausted. Fueled with Starbucks, we're off once again. After a few minutes, we start to perk up and the conversations begin to flow. Predictably, we're deep into USAPA philosophical and structural issues in short order. How to best represent the pilots. Issues with insurance. Discussions we've each had with our less fortunate fellow pilots out on LTD. Voting methodologies. Web site content. How do we fairly represent all US Airways pilots. And so it goes. Hours of discussions - how do we serve the pilots? What do they want? What do they need?

We enter the outskirts of DC - I've never been (via car!) We all marvel at the beauty of the late fall colors still in the trees, and the gorgeous stone-lined meandering roadway. Someone gets cynical - "no shortage of money in this town!"

We pull up in front of the restaurant (chosen by Ilona after research into price and location). The others (Mark T., Woody, Reed, Mike, Steve S., John and Jamie) are waiting in the lobby. Hats, crisp shirts. Shined shoes. We gather for the first photo, all around "the box," the lifeblood of USAPA:

From Mark K., "On arrival at the restaurant, I try to gather the pilots to tell them this is pay as you go, and not a "group" meal using USAPA donations.... before I get to say anything, Mike Martin approaches me to let me know he is "paying his own way... no matter what!" Other pilots chime in with the same statement. I was humbled."

We find our way to the table, the waiter takes our orders (most of us get the buffet). The seafood gumbo is spectacular (although Mark T. seems uncertain). We're all pretty sure we're the only one's in there not using a government credit card!

We are at this point well ahead of schedule, yet I sense everyone's eating quickly, anxious to "get the show on the road." Several reminders are necessary that "this is not a crew meal, everyone slow down."

Recovering from rotator cuff surgery, Jamie asks for ice for his shoulder.. the waiter brings an entire 7-11 bag worthy of a cooler.

Mark Thorpe asks the waiter for "separate checks" for a party of 15... they get revenge by adding large tips to the bills!

Finally, the time comes to leave. There is discussion as to whether we might find some folks from National waiting for us in front of the NMB. Mark Thorpe and I have a conversation about what to do if Beebe and gang meet us there. Mark K. suggests we hand him a card and say its not too late. We all laugh and I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out an Authorization Card and put in Mark T.'s pocket in case it happened!!!  Mark was locked and loaded!

And we're off! After almost 6 months of effort,  Steve and the guys carrying the "Ark of the Covenant" walk right past the NMB apparently headed to Capitol Hill to present the cards to Nancy Pelosi.  Hearing us talk, some guy on the street yells "its back there!"

Mike Martin looks at Mark K. in the lobby of the NMB and tells him this is "history being made." We all gather around the security guard and get our name tags before ascending to the second floor - simple little sticky notes with our names scrawled by the guard. Nonetheless, badges of honor.

Two elevators full of uniforms, and we arrive, finally, at the doors of the National Mediation Board. A day we wondered at times if we would ever see.

Ilona Theuer actually has the nerve to wonder if she should be in the "pictures."  The group is taken aback at the absurdity of such a suggestion. One of the staff from the NMB is kind enough to shoot some pictures for us (Ilona with "her" cards):

We gather in the front office as an NMB attorney explains the process:

Ilona refuses to leave "her" cards at the NMB. Spike refuses to leave the "box" unattended.  We all leave the office nervous, like we have just left a small child with strangers. 

On return to the hotel lobby, Mark T. and I fire up the computers and wireless and let the dogs loose. Mark uploads the press release and checks the news wire as I update the web site and prepare a mass mailing. We are all like kids at Christmas as the press releases and web postings become reality:

 All of us burn up our cell phone address lists calling everyone we know to tell them the "cards are in."

Finally, the press release is out, the site is updated, news wires are checked and the phones start ringing. We say our goodbyes and retrieve Bob's SUV.

From Mark K., "Scott tries to visit the Zoo on the way out of DCA....nobody cares as we are numb with the awe and excitement of what just happened." (OK, so I missed a couple turns and we took the 'scenic route.') 

"Scott takes calls from the press almost the entire way back, while driving, talking to us, and eating a sub sandwich.  In the peanut gallery, we now understand why he is our communications guy!"

We stop to fuel ourselves and the truck at a Sheetz along the way - somebody at the Sheetz asks if we all just "came in at the local airport?!"

From Mark K., "I try to give Bob Davison a USAPA check to cover his expenses plus wear and tear on his new vehicle. I tear up two checks before he finally agrees to accept only IRS approved mileage... and took that check under duress." It would seem things are about to change!

We drop Mark K. and Steve B. back at their car in the Starbucks parking lot. Bob takes over driving, and 45 minutes later drops Ilona and I off in our driveway, again pitch black, where the odyssey started a little over 14 hours earlier.

It was, in every sense of the word, surreal. The hope of 3000+ pilots, contained in a special box, made with care in the woodshop of one of your fellow pilots, guarded day and night, and finally, carried 265 miles to its final destination.

Speaking on behalf of the USAPA officers and volunteers who were able to be present on this momentous day, this day on which the US Airways pilots took their futures into their own hands, it was our honor to carry your hope to its final destination.

~ Scott