I was sitting on the floor at Denver International Airport waiting for a flight to San Antonio. I leaned against a cool glass window in jeans and a black tee shirt, holding the Airman’s Creed on a business card with tiny letters in my hands.
Several other trainees-to-be and I were taking turns reading it out loud in an attempt to both quell our nerves and get a step ahead. I was almost 23-years-old and terrified that joining the Air Force was the wrong decision.
“And I will not fail,” we repeated.