“Los Angeles Tower, Boeing Hotel Lima Eight Two Seven One, eight miles east north, inbound for landing with information Tango.”

The sudden female voice coming from her headset has actually managed to startle Tiffany, the action is saying a lot by itself. Hwang Tiffany does not get surprised, not on her line of work where she is deemed to be calm even when people are burned to death down on the runway. Blaming the slow traffic on the airport, the young air traffic controller immediately springs to action. She shifts her attention to the screen in front of her. It may look like a boring plain map with moving dots and random number on top of each blinking red speck, but it represents hundreds of lives. Lives that will be endangered if Tiffany makes a miscalculation that resulted into a crash between the dots.

After making a quick mental calculation and deciding the next course of action, which in fact has not taken more than three seconds, Tiffany replies back to the communicator, “Boeing Hotel Lima Eight Two Seven One, Los Angeles Tower, enter right downwind, runway two four, report entering right downwind.” It is all, short and simple, almost robotical even.

“Hotel Lima Seven One will report right downwind, two four,” The pilot replies back then directs the plane to the designated runway. It does not take much to control a Boeing 777 because it is equipped with the new fly-by-wire smart system, but it is still better safe than sorry. “Los Angeles Tower, Hotel Lima Seven One, right downwind, two four.”

By now, Tiffany can see the new blinking dot nearing the runway with HL8271 attached on it. She easily recognizes it as the only Boeing from Korean Air, which mostly contains Koreans, her kinfolk. While she is born and raised in America for her whole life, she is still a full-blooded Korean. Her people, the closest term she can call them with, for her countrymen shall forever be the Americans, are the last she wants to put in danger. With the additional pressure, Tiffany glances and takes note of the other aircrafts on the radar, just to make sure, before she sends the new information to the waiting pilot.

“Boeing Hotel Lima Seven One, cleared to land.”

“Cleared to land, Hotel Lima Seven One.” Then the pilot cuts off communication, putting her whole concentration to land her plane safely.

Tiffany, although keeping close eye on HL8271, continues her job by informing the Ground Control for the incoming Boeing. Once each plane has safely landed, the responsibility of guiding it moves from Tower Control to Ground Control. Such network ensures everyone work seamlessly in keeping up the airport. From her position in the tower, Tiffany watches the red-blue Korean Boeing roll to a stop on the runway. The landing is perfect and now Tiffany can breathe a little easier, knowing she has done yet another perfect job.

“Hotel Lima Seven One, turn right next taxiway, contact Ground, point six five, leaving the runway,” Tiffany passes the information. She only needs confirmation from the pilot then she is free to guide another landing. A Qantas is already looming on the outer part of her radar, about twenty miles away from the airport.

“Right turn, contact Ground, Hotel Lima Seven One.” But then the pilot did not cut the communication.

The air traffic controller waits, keeping the positive thought inside her mind. The communication works in a way that ensures pilot to have full access to the air traffic controller for as long as they need, meaning the line will not cut off unless the pilot stops pushing the communicator button. Tiffany knows this female Korean Air pilot is not new, even though she has been in the Incheon-LAX flight schedule for only about three months. Tiffany has heard her voice on every other day and the pilot has been anything but perfect on executing each landing process. That rules out the possibility of her forgetting to cut off the communication.

Two more seconds and Tiffany can’t keep quiet. “Hotel Lima Seven One, contact Ground, point six five,” she repeats, hoping the pilot will move the frequency to Ground Control because by now, she is practically hogging the Tower Control for herself. Tiffany feels a mix of irritation and worry when she receives no response. “Boeing Hotel Lima Eight Two Seven—“

“Hey, it’s Friday night and a little too fast to ask, but do you want to go out with me tonight?”

The question throws Tiffany off. She has heard pilots and air traffic controllers throwing jokes at each other, she has heard air traffic controllers losing their patience on clueless new pilots, but she has never ever heard a pilot asking out an air traffic controller, or vice versa. The pink pen she was twirling on her fingers falls to the table, knocking off her pens’ holder, and within second they are cluttering on the floor. Tiffany can feel eyes on her, from the other staffs who work on the tower and her fellow air traffic controllers, and she is painfully aware that it is not because of the mess she made.

Although Tiffany admires the pilot for having the guts to ask her out on public communication, where practically every airport workers can hear them, she does condemn her way of doing it. It is unprofessional. “Negative,” she states simply, earning collective thumb-ups from her senior coworkers.

“I’ll ask again in three days.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes. “It will still be ne—“ but the pilot has cut off their communication, leaving her with empty static.