Make it, or Die

I went into a strip mall coffee shop to have a cappucino while I waited for the liquor store to open. This says something about me, I guess... that I was at the liquor store so early on a Wednesday that it wasn't open. My shining moment was deciding to go into the coffee shop rather than just standing with my nose pressed against the glass staring at the bottles of vodka for 13 minutes... but who's counting?
Anyway, the barista was a good-looking, middle-aged guy, not on his best day. He cheerfully explained that he was hungover, over-worked, and still hadn't finished Christmas shopping for his teen-aged daughters.  Even though he was behind the counter at a coffee shop, he couldn't quite have enough cups to fully wake up. He was having a bad day at work.
I sat down with my coffee by the window where I could see the door of the liquor store. I looked at the twinkling Christmas lights and thought about bad days at work.
My worst days at my current job are burned into my memory. In the winter of 2007, I got caught in a fast-moving blizzard after picking up a skier. I had to ask my passenger to help me navigate safely home through the blinding snow and wind.  In the summer of 2008, I picked up a crew of fishermen in Bristol Bay, loaded to max with them, gear and fish. We were nearly forced to the ground by fog on the Alaska Peninsula and I had to scud over the tundra, navigating by valleys and the few weather reports of other pilots. Last summer, driving rain pushed the visibility and me down onto a remote lake in Katmai, where I taxied to shallow water, got out in my hip-waders and acted as a live mooring buoy for the plane, mostly so I wouldn't have to be in the cabin with barfing tourists.
Those days were my worst. I came very close to not making it. Just a little worse weather, or one wrong decision...  They were all Uncle Ole's imfamous: "Make it or die" days. But, halfway to fully caffieinated and mesmerized by the  blinking lights, I think I'd also count them as my best days. Because they weren't a little worse. And then the thought follows, how lucky am I, that I have a job where my worst days are also my best? Where just doing my job makes the lines a little clearer, and the sunset a little prettier, and the coffee taste a little better...  Or am I just a little crazy?
Not sure. But the liquor store's open.