When I get to LaGuardia, more benefits become obvious: I get 20 percent off on a hot dog. I begin to think that maybe I should wear this uniform all the time. It doesn’t end there. I get the same royal treatment on the shuttle to Boston. When I get there, I board Cape Air, which flies Cessna 402s to Lebanon, New Hampshire. I get to sit next to the captain, he with his four bars, me with my three. Captain John is young and I am old. It is dark; this is the last flight of the day to KLEB. We’ve got a full boat. I don’t have a headset on, so I can only guess as to what John is hearing, but I have owned a Cessna 340 and the cockpit feels familiar. As we climb out of Boston, we settle into a 500 fpm rate. I can’t help but tell John about the max takeoff in the Lear. He doesn’t seem jealous, just happy to hear about it. We fly on into the clear smooth night, one young aviator and one old one with a new experience under his belt, silently inches from each other. I am suffused with contentment.