Sky,
You bring up excellent points about the drawbacks to pursuing a career as an airline pilot. There are too many pilots and not enough good jobs, and a number of HR hoops to jump through, and it all requires excellent timing and luck to end up in the cockpit of a legacy airline. As you pointed out, once you get there, sitting for ten hours in the seat to the right of Mr. Personality at the front of an aluminum tube pushing through the thin air seven miles up may not be your idea of having "arrived".

But as Jungle pointed out, you made the decisions. We all do. If it doesn't work out and we don't reach the destination, or it looks like too great of a sacrifice to reach it, we assess the facts and alter course for what appears to be a fruitful path towards a new goal.

What bothers me about your posts is a sense of powerlessness and passivity. We don't live at the whims of others unless we choose to. We choose to move to an armpit city and live on poverty wages because we hope flying for that regional airline will lead to greater rewards later. We walk willingly into that noose. No small number break free of the noose and reach the majors.

Many take the military route, and there are drawbacks there too: The guy I took my formation checkride with in USAF pilot training has been pushing up daisies for over two decades now. Another guy, the best pilot and without doubt the smartest person I've had the pleasure of knowing (he flew in my T-38 fini-flight) died during a routine touch-and-go landing. There are year-long deployments to Middle East garden spots now, and the deployment cycle doesn't look like it will let up (hey, it's "The Long War").

Very few follow a path that does not pose major obstacles, and for many the path they have chosen will prove, in the end, impassable as a means to reach that goal of a right seat at a legacy airline.

As Jungle said, the pioneers faced a very risky path to a great reward. They were told wonderful stories of the Oregon Territory. Many died enroute. Many settled somewhere short of their destination and carved out a life there as best they could. A lucky few reached your neck of the woods, and built a new life in paradise (sort of). It required something other than passivity even to attempt the journey. It took gumption.

I'm not a huge fan of the way Robert Pirsig led his life, but his novel Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was truly profound. He had some good words on gumption:

“A person filled with gumption doesn’t sit around dissipating and stewing about things. He’s at the front of the train of his own awareness, watching to see what’s up the track and meeting it when it comes. That’s gumption.

If you’re going to repair a motorcycle, an adequate supply of gumption is the first and most important tool. If you haven’t got that you might as well gather up all the other tools and put them away, because they won’t do you any good.”

I was disappointed that if Alaska called, you said you would have no choice but to go. Just tell them "no". It's not worth the "5%". You've made your decision, and I think it was correct. Don't doubt yourself. Press on full speed on the alternate (and hopefully fruitful) route.

Best of luck.