A "J-O-B"

That is what my dad always says is the goal. I say, "wrong." Isn't the goal actually not having a job? In fact, I think that is the whole reason people have jobs: to get to the point of not having one. Right?
Well, fathers are not bound by reason, and to appease mine, I tracked down a place interested in employing me. I'm working for Smokey Bay Air as a pilot. I fly Cessna 206s (which is basically the flying version of an SUV) for air taxis, bear watching, hunting, flight seeing, groceries, dead cats, you name it.
We fly in and out of four main villages: Homer (where I now live in a hotel+kitchenette...woo hoo, life outside the Subaru!), Seldovia (a pretty fishing town), Port Graham (a Native Alaskan/Russian Orthodox village), and Nanwalek (Port Graham's party-loving cousins). On the first day of work, the training pilot took us around the bend to Nanwalek as she said "This runway used to be straight." The Nanwalek Airport (see photo) sits on a short, curved strip of uneven gravel that has a town on one side, water on two, and a big ol' cliff on the other. This picture of safety in air travel is littered, at any given time, with four-wheelers and dogs.
I'm sure that landing in a turn, on one wheel, jumping the town dog pack and strategically avoiding the cliff are all life skills that will help me in my quest to not work. However, NOW my dad is saying this is not a very good job. As "good" was not listed in his previous criteria, I am going to press on for a while flying Cocoa Puffs and airsick tourists.