Fallen Rampers

My Pal Al:

Today marks 4 years since this amazing man died. For the purposes of this blog, Al was a Phoenix ramper, but he was so much more. I threw bags with Al for a couple of years before he got sick; it was then that I saw what a truly remarkable man he was. He displayed such strength, courage, and grace that there were times I felt humbled in his presence. To him, it was nothing special, but to me, he was the most special of us all.

I worked with Al and a couple of other guys on what we called, "the geriatric gate." At the time I was the youngest of the crew at 44; we worked circles around the youngsters. Al never boasted about his abilities nor did he seek accolades. I often told him he could outwork anyone on the ramp; he would lower his head in embarrassment and say, "not Kari." 

He wasn't all work and no play, we had a blast. What first comes to mind are the times we used to send random objects across the globe. We would grab a stray chock or mini tail cone and load it with a special handling tag written for Barcelona, Honduras, or somewhere across the Pacific. He was always the quiet one but boy did he have a wicked sense of humor. 

I could go on for several pages talking about my best buddy, but I won't. Instead I ask you to take a minute or two today and think of Al. Also, think of all the other rampers that are no longer with us; guys you worked side by side with in bins or on tugs. Guys you laughed, smoked, bitched, or cried with. We've all done those things. Next time you're in a bin with a guy, look at him and remember, he may not always be there. Even if it's not a guy you like working with (you can all translate that as you like) we are all part of a messed up, loony family. So, raise a glass to Al today and remember a ramper that has gone away.