Anyway, I first met ol' Biff at a local airport pilot lounge I used to frequent. He turned up there one day and began "holding court", regaling the usual denizens with tales of daring-do from his "Marshall Service Days". And it's just as you say, impeccably stylish with perfect hair and the kind of charm and charisma that a great many people seem to find quite appealing. A real charmer this one! But under the facade lay a very large and extremely fragile ego. Ah well, not entirely unheard of in aviation circles is it?
That would have been 'Biff'. I would have loved to hear his stories about his adventures back in his "Marshal Service Days".
Here is the final story about good ol' Biff in my book, after he 'resigned' from the Marshal Service.
After we finally got rid of him, he told the 'social' crowd he hung around with, that he never intended to have a full time job with us, but that he was asked, inferring that someone very high in the government had done the asking, to join our operation to 'smooth out the rough edges and to bring us up to "his" standards'. The fact that it took him less than a year to accomplish this major feat, was a tribute to just what an outstanding person he was. In his words of course.
Now, it just so happened to be that I was attending one of these social events that Biff loved so well a few months after he was fir, err, firmly requested to resign. My wife and I had arrived earlier (of course I was with my wife, she was the one that was always invited, I just hung around carrying her purse and assuring the quality control of the free Scotch that was served) and Biff did not see me, at first. I was hiding behind a fake palm tree near one of the bars (they called them beverage dispensation stations), as I always do, and I heard a familiar voice. So with Scotch in one hand, I used my other hand to separate the fake palm tree leaves and peeked through the leaves, sure enough there was my old buddy Biff. At first I thought about coming out from behind the fake palm tree, go up, slap ol' Biff on the back and ask him how he was doing. Then on second thought I decided not, as he'd probably sue me for assault. So I just stood there and listened to him talk to a group of people standing around him, no doubt enthralled with his tales of daring do's, saving pregnant Nuns I'm sure.
As I suspected, very shortly he started taking about his exploits in our 727s (Which was good, as I was running low on Scotch). He starts telling this tale of how he had to leap across the cockpit of a 727 to 'knock some sense' into the captain (the fact we didn't have captains, just PICs seemed to had slipped his mind) and then 'yanking' the fool out of the left seat and assuming command just in the nick of time to avoid hitting a grade school, convent full of pregnant Nuns, hospital, the White House, take your pick. Then managing to land on a 3,000 foot 'strip' in a category 5 hurricane just as all three engines flamed out.
Well okay, maybe his story was not quite that extreme, but I think you get my drift. 'Alright' I decide, 'time to do something', as I was out of Scotch. So I slowly moved around the edge of the room, keeping his back facing me as so he could not see me, I went out a side door. Looping around the outside of the building I came back around to the main entry door of the room. Peeking through gap in the door jam, I could see him facing away from the door, but where I would be seen if he shifted his head toward the door even slightly. So I reenter the room, stopping to say hello to people that I had just said hello to just a few minutes before, as I slowly worked my way toward ol' Biff and his crowd of admirers. I'm sure some of those people were thinking, 'wow the Scotch tonight must be a really good brand, as Con doesn't remember saying hello to us just a few minutes ago'.
I was about half way to him when he happened to glance over and see me. It was a classic Hollywood double take. He glanced at me, turned away, looked back and his eyes flew wide open. I've always heard of the term 'turned pale', well this was the first time I had seen it actually happen. His face turned ashen, he ducked his head and was gone. I never saw him again that night. I walked to the group of people he had been talking at and they asked me 'If I wasn't with the same operation Biff had been with?' I replied, 'yes, but things just didn't work out'. Then I excused myself, got another Scotch and took back up in my hiding place behind the fake palm tree next to the bar.
That night after my wife retrieved me and her purse she asked me, "Someone told me that Biff and his wife was here, did you seen him?"
"Nope, didn't see him at all, must have missed him. You know what honey, even though I keep telling you I hate these things, I had quite a good time tonight, we need attend more of these types of events."
My wonderful wife stopped, held her hand out, looked at me as she said, "Give me the car keys, I'm driving home tonight."
To this day, I've never seen Biff again. Edited to this date Aug 2, 2014.
One note about the storied I've posted here, they are in rough form and have not been completely edited, so please forgive and spelling errors and/or other grammar errors.