Flying high: A father’s pride at 3,000 feet

There are moments in life when pride sneaks up on you—quietly, deeply and unexpectedly funny. That happened to me this week, and I wasn’t at a graduation or a ceremony. I was up at 30,000 feet, sipping a mimosa and grinning like a man who had just won the lottery.

Let me explain.

On May 1, Macon launched a brand-new direct flight to Dulles International Airport in Washington, D.C. That’s a big deal for our city — a sign of growth, opportunity, and improved connectivity for Middle Georgia. Contour Airlines took the lead, and I had the privilege of being a passenger on that inaugural flight.

But what made it more than just a historic flight for me was the young man standing in the aisle with a tray of Chick-fil-A minis and a big smile. That flight attendant — poised, professional and pouring mimosas like a seasoned pro — was my son, Jack.

Jack has been working as a flight attendant for Contour while completing his associate’s degree at Central Georgia Technical College. Balancing books and boarding passes hasn’t been easy, but he’s handled it with grace, humor and a work ethic that leaves me in awe. On that flight from Macon to Dulles, he was in his element. Confident. Kind. Sharp. With a little help from Bernadette — the Macon station manager for Contour and a gem in her own right—he welcomed passengers, handed out breakfast and made sure everyone felt at home in the air.

And he did it all with style. I’m telling you, folks, if you saw the photo of Jack standing between the two pilots after landing, you’d think he was born with wings.

The vibe on the flight was celebratory. There were dignitaries on board, a buzz of excitement, and that unmistakable feeling that something special was happening. It felt like Macon was stepping forward — and Jack was part of that step. I was beaming.

Then came my moment.

After we landed in Dulles, Jack gave his standard “Welcome to Washington” announcement over the intercom. Passengers clapped, and the cabin had that relaxed, we-made-it energy. I turned to the folks sitting near me — fellow Maconites, business travelers, some just along for the ride — and said, “That flight attendant is my son. I’m so proud of him.”

Without missing a beat, Jack looked straight at me and said, loud enough for the whole front section to hear:

“I’ve never seen that man before.”

Laughter exploded down the aisle.

I couldn’t stop smiling. The comedic timing. The deadpan delivery. The perfect deflection of a proud dad moment into something out of a sitcom. It was classic Jack — funny, quick-witted and just a little too cool to let me get sentimental
mid-flight.

That’s when I knew—he’s not just good at his job. He owns it.

Fast-forward to the very next day. I’m now sitting in the Macon Coliseum, waiting for Jack’s name to be called at the CGTC graduation ceremony. The same kid who had the whole cabin in stitches yesterday is now walking across the stage to receive his associate’s degree in general studies.

Two days, two unforgettable milestones.

In many ways, they felt like chapters in the same story. Jack has always been one to carve his own path. He didn’t take the traditional route, and he didn’t need to. He flew — literally and figuratively — toward his goals, working early mornings and late nights, making sure he kept up with school while navigating the friendly skies.

Watching him graduate was the culmination of all that effort. No applause light, no mimosas, just a proud dad and a sea of families cheering their hearts out.

It made me reflect on how often we, as parents or mentors or just members of this community, want the world to see what we see in the young people we love. Their resilience. Their humor.

Their drive. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, the world gets a front-row seat.

Jack gave me that moment on a plane. Then he gave me another one on a stage. And yes, I may have gotten a little misty-eyed. Don’t judge me.

So here’s a toast—in the spirit of those sky-high mimosas—to the dreamers, the doers, the class of 2025, and the ones still figuring it out. May your journeys be as smooth as a Contour landing and your punchlines as sharp as Jack’s.

Oh—and if you happen to be flying Contour out of Macon, keep an eye out for a certain flight attendant with a sly smile and a great sense of humor.

He may not admit he knows me—but I couldn’t be prouder to know him.