I am excited to learn that Thomas Cameron is coming to Puerto Rico and will be stationed with me after he gets his wings. I have known Thomas since he was a swab at the Academy and I was his cadre in 2005. Thomas is an incredible athlete, and I distinctly remember being amazed while watching him run through the obstacle course during swab summer. He was a star soccer player and everyone’s favorite player to watch. He brought a type of intensity onto the soccer field that left everyone in awe. He was known for his dedication on and off the field and was always, by far, the hardest worker in the room.

When I was a sailing instructor before flight school, I was supposed to teach Thomas how to sail.

I failed.

We spent most of our time on the boat with him joking around and telling stories, and thankfully, Thomas went to flight school because he didn’t have the slightest clue how to sail a boat.

Thomas is exactly the person we need at Air Station Borinquen. Everyone loves him, and life is better with him around. After some rough years in Borinquen, this is some welcome good news. 

Thomas arrives in December of 2011 and immediately makes his presence known. Puerto Rico has a huge surfing culture, and it permeates the Air Station. All of the breaks around the Air Station are usually littered with pilots, rescue swimmers, and aircrew, and our training flights are often diverted to go check the waves. We are spoiled as some of the best waves in the world are a few miles from the Air Station.

As soon as Thomas arrives, he decides he is going to learn how to surf. Thomas is an incredible athlete, so I imagine he will pick it up quickly. Surfing is not an easy sport and requires years of practice to successfully ride a wave. Most people learning how to surf start with a large, stable board and small, forgiving waves at a beach with a soft sandy bottom to cushion their fall. They find a beach that is tolerant of people learning to surf, where there are no territorial locals to drop in on.

Thomas takes a different route.

As soon as he arrives, the surf picks up, and Ryan, Natalie, and I are going out. Thomas wants to come, and we try our best to talk him out of it, but he is intent on going with us and doesn’t want to miss out.

We are going surfing at Pressure Point, which is aptly named because it is a powerful break on a shallow reef. We arrive at the beach, and the waves are a hollow five feet, breaking violently on the reef, about the worst conditions you can imagine for someone’s first day of surfing. The break is filled with locals who don’t always love their breaks being infiltrated by gringos.

Despite all of us warning Thomas, explaining how unsafe it is, and telling him that he has no business going out into the water, he is undeterred. Natalie gives him a quick crash course on the beach. She shows him how to paddle, pop up, put on a leash, and some basics. Then he fearlessly charges out into the break.

Thomas is very fit and in great shape, so he has no problem on the short paddle out. Moments after getting there, he decides he is just going to send it on the first wave he sees. He starts paddling, and everyone tries to call him off as we watch in horror.

It is a big wave, and as it races toward shore, it rises up even higher behind Thomas as he fervently paddles, slipping off the board in the shadow of this monster wave. He is in a terrible spot on it and is going to catch it way too late. We all know he has no chance of catching it and that this has only one possible, painful outcome.

The local surfers are transfixed and now watching the horror with us. Thomas is sucked up into the wave just as it is about to crash, and we all wince as we watch the wave violently obliterate the reef with an explosion of white water, sand, and spray shooting into the air as it releases its fury. The only sign of Thomas is his board shooting up out of the water during the carnage.

Everyone is nervous, hoping Thomas isn’t seriously hurt after being tossed like a rag doll by the madness that is Pressure Point. A few tense moments later, he pops up to the surface with a huge smile on his face, and every other person out in the water smiles with him.

We are all certain that thrashing will end Thomas’s surf career, but he paddles right back out, smiling all the way. He then attempts to catch countless waves, all of which result in more ruthless beatings. Every time, he comes up smiling and paddles right back out, grinning ear to ear.

Everyone in the lineup is in on the action by the end. As he paddles furiously for each wave, everyone sits up to watch, and he is cheered on by even the saltiest of locals. Then, once he is pummeled again and comes up smiling, his joy spreads through the lineup.

Of all the surf sessions I have ever had in my life  this will always be my favorite, not because of the conditions, or because I caught some great waves, but because I will always remember seeing Thomas paddle back out, smiling, somehow unfazed by the abuse he was taking from each and every wave.

A couple of weeks later, Thomas invites some of the pilots over to his house for dinner. He is living in base housing at the time, and his household goods have recently arrived from the mainland. He messages me, very concerned about any dietary restrictions, and wants to make sure everyone has something to eat.

Natalie and I arrive at his house, and he greets us at the door, smiling his famous smile. We can barely enter the main area of the house because there are half unpacked moving boxes everywhere, with their contents spilling out. We trip over empty beer cans and notice various dip spitters lying around. He has burrowed out an area between the boxes just large enough to fit a table and some chairs in the middle of the house.

He certainly has not invited us over to show off the ambiance or decor, so I imagine he must be preparing some amazing dinner.

Once I see the kitchen, I quickly realize this is not the case. He has several boxes of generic store-bought spaghetti and some jars of Prego tomato sauce. That’s it. After some time in the kitchen, he cooks up this delectable dish and proudly serves it to us on disposable plates. I can barely keep it together as he plates this spaghetti like he is a Michelin star chef. We all eat some of the worst spaghetti I’ve ever had while sitting in what looks like an episode of Hoarders, but it turns out to be an incredible night.

We have a few drinks, talk, and laugh all night long. Thomas doesn’t need fancy furniture, nice plates, or good food. He just wants everyone to gather and spend time together. He makes everyone feel like we are somehow part of the best night of his life.

I will always cherish this night.

Thomas has orders to report to Mobile, Alabama for his transition course on Monday the 16th of January.  He is flying out of San Juan on the 15th of January and staying in San Juan the night before.  Natalie has been at a surf expo in Orlando all week and flies into San Juan that same Saturday.  This weekend also happens to be Fiestas de la Calle San Sebastián in Old San Juan known as SanSe.  I have no idea what SanSe is for, but I know it’s the biggest party weekend in Puerto Rico.  It’s basically Mardi Gras, mixed with Carneval, rum, and bad decisions.  This is all lining up to be the perfect storm, Thomas, Nataie and I converging in San Juan during the biggest party of the year. 

Saturday Morning, I fly a sunrise law enforcement patrol before getting off duty.  Once I get off duty, I drive over to San Juan Airport to pick up Natalie.  The normal two hour trip takes close to three as the entire island is storming Old San Juan for SanSe.  Traffic is an absolute nightmare.  I have missed Natalie in the week she was gone and I am excited to pick her up.  Once I make it through the airport, we head over to Old San Juan to experience the street festival. 

At one of the vendors, I pull my wallet out and panic.  Bertie Boy always carried a lucky silver dollar with him and when he passed away it was given to me. It is my most prized possession. I keep the Silver Dollar tucked in my wallet, and when I feel for it, it’s gone.  I’m terrified I’ve lost it somewhere on the street.  I run back to the car to check for it.  Crawling underneath the seats and looking in between every crack and crevasse. It's nowhere to be found.  I frantically search everywhere and can't find it. I think it might have fallen out in my flight suit while I was on duty, so I text the copilot that relieved me.  They are out flying so he doesn't answer.  I am miserable thinking I’ve lost my grandfather’s coin. I try to enjoy the festival, but I can't. 

There are people everywhere. It is not even possible to walk in the streets.  We are shoulder to shoulder being pushed through the narrow cobblestone alleys. Everyone is sweaty and drunk and it's hot and claustrophobic.  It is obnoxiously loud and I can't stop thinking about the missing coin.  I don't want to be here and I tell Natalie.  She doesn't really want to be here either. She's been busy all week at the surf expo and she’s exhausted.  It's all too much so we decide to leave and go home.  

On the way back, the other copilot messages me that he finds my coin in my flight suit pocket.  I am incredibly relieved, but I’m ready to just go home.  

Later Thomas calls me, and I miss his call.  He leaves a hysterical voicemail describing what he was going through while braving the streets of SanSe.  He is screaming over the commotion of people and music.  I call him back and tell him what happened and that I’m sorry we can't hang out tonight.  He has other friends with him so I don't feel too bad knowing he will still have the time of his life that night. I wish him luck at his training in Mobile and tell him goodbye.  

Not staying in San Juan with Thomas that night is one of the biggest regrets of my life.