Kid's Dreams

I dream in my sleep every night and most nights that would include dreams about flying. Piloting airplanes, riding in airplanes, flying cars, or just soaring solo (my favorite)! If anyone wonders why I'm slow to wake, it's hard to come back to reality when you can stretch your arms out to catch a draft of air that lifts you up above the swaying trees through mountain passes and into the clouds. Or the rush that comes with tucking in and feeling the air ripple across your skin as you dive back down only to stretch out again at the last second and swoop upward just before reaching the the ground.

But I digress - Thursday night I was enjoying a nice fantasy where I was prepping a two seat single engine airplane for flight. It was an imagined cross between a Grumman Yankee and a Piper Warrior - in other words, small with a bubble canopy and slightly swept-back wings that are below the fuselage. I had just climbed into the cockpit and was turning the key when the faint cry of 'Daddy, Mommy!' came over and over again. Glancing around the ramp, I noted the other pilots just staring at me until finally one said grumpily, 'I dealt with it last time, it's your turn.'

Reality came crashing in as I realized Tori was probably having a nightmare and Kimberly expected me to take care of it. So I found myself stumbling into the girls' room where Tori is lying in the middle of it crying 'I need my daddy, I need my daddy!' After about a minute of petting her hair and softly trying to coax her back into the lower bunk to sleep, I gave up and climbed into Tori's bed and said to her, 'I'll stay here but I'm going back to sleep'. She immediately stopped fussing, stated 'I need my bears' and crawled in with me.

Shortly thereafter, Tori is snoring peacefully when I hear Rebecca whimpering in the bunk overhead. I climb over Tori and roll out, finding Rebecca sitting by the ladder on the upper bunk scratching her legs vigorously. 'What's the matter?' I ask reaching out to hold her hand to stop the scratching. 'I itch all over!' she whined in reply. So I carry her to the bathroom and verify that she's not bug infested or developing hives. When we were both satisfied, I put her back to bed and scratched her back gentle for a minute or so until she settled back to sleep as well.

Kimberly informed me the next morning that Tori was complaining about a bee landing in her bed and Rebecca, when asked, was still feeling itchy. I never did get back to that imaginary airplane and the next thing I remembered was waking up to my 5AM alarm telling me to get ready to go into work. At least I got to fly after all.

Giving Directions

There must be something about the pilot uniform that leads the general public to assume that we know all there is to know about whatever airport we're walking through. Sometimes I'll be asked points of interest about the city we're in, which is quite amusing when I reply that I've never been to that location before! Occasionally I am asked details for a competitor's flight and I try to be graceful about pointing out the logos on my uniform. More frequently though, we get asked directions to departure gates or baggage claims.

If we have a long walk through a particular terminal, there are a couple of well established methods of avoiding those pesky questions. First of all, we try to travel in packs with at least one other pilot and a couple of flight attendants hoping the crowd of uniforms will intimidate inquiring minds. Another good method is to walk with a purpose, as if hurrying to make the next flight so that the general public will assume you cannot be bothered. When all else fails, pull out the cell phone and make a call, whether you really had anything or anyone in mind to talk to!

Unfortunately, we are sometimes caught defenseless and are obliged to attempt to live up to the expectations of our uniform. Last weekend Kimberly joined me for a flight and when we got back to Atlanta I had a long enough break that I could walk out to parking with her. Though not quite a pack, having her around averted any questions on the way out.

Coming back through the airport, I had just by-passed security and had barely stepped into T-concourse when I got my first hit - 'Can you tell me where baggage claim is?' Unfamiliar with how to exit T-concourse, I looked up, found a green sign labeled 'Exit for Baggage Claim' and replied, 'Follow the green sign out to baggage claim, ma'am!'

I only managed to make it down to escalator to the train when I got the next hit - 'How do I get to baggage claim?' This time I failed to look up and pointed, 'Just follow the corridor all the way to the end, you're not far from it.' I then boarded the train and realized that I had pointed the poor soul in the wrong direction and that he was going to have a very long walk to E concourse if he followed my directions. So, I got off at the first stop and began walking back to turn the poor man back in the right direction.

I hadn't taken two steps when someone else asked, 'Pardon, how to I find B concourse?' Having just gotten off at the B concourse exit, I confidently replied, 'Take the escalator around the corner up, ma'am'. During that discussion, I noticed my misdirected charge hurrying by toward E concourse so I chased him down, directed him to the appropriate train and pointed to the signs overhead that would help guide him back to baggage claim.

Having done enough damage for the day, I decided to call Kimberly and stay on the phone until I was safely hidden in operations again.

Crash Landing

Yet another rant on media bias here. Recently we had one of our jets crash land. But wait, no national media coverage? Not even local media coverage? I mean, come on, it was at the busiest airport in the world! Actually, I'm not being entirely truthful here - CNN did a couple of quick blurbs throughout the evening on how passengers were upset about flight delays because of the runway closure! Seriously, they interviewed several people right after the crash and somehow managed to omit any details of the crash!

I realize that happy endings are not terribly sensational and that news stories need to be sensational to make money, but in light of the very intense coverage of recent airplane crashes, it would be nice if they would include at least one 'feel good' story like this one.

Around 6:30 on the 11th, one of our jets on approach to land had a gear disagree indication in the cockpit. Simply, they selected the gear lever down and the left gear indicator did not turn green. So, they go around and opt for another pass, this time with mechanics standing by to observe the gear as the airplane passed overhead. The mechanics were able to verify the left main gear had not come down fully. At this point, our crew had no choice but to land, knowing that they were going to crash! Yikes!

The crew made another approach and were able to balance the aircraft on the right main for most of the landing roll until the left gear finally collapsed and the airplane veered off the runway coming to a stop in the grass off to the side. 19 passengers (50 seat jet) and 3 crew members walked off the airplane with no injuries. Not only that, the damage to the airplane was so minimal that the only repairs needed (besides replacing the left main gear) are cosmetic in nature. Kudos to the crew for excellent execution!

Airplane Sizes

We watched 'Nim's Island' this week with the girls - it was a fun family film where a little girl (Nim) ends up alone on a tropical island in the South Pacific when her dad is lost at sea.  Jodie Foster plays an agoraphobic writer who is convinced to fly out to rescue Nim.  Flying across the ocean, Foster rides on a larger aircraft but to travel between the islands, she is forced to ride on what looks like a 20 seat turbo prop airplane and then a helicopter.  

At the airport in the South Pacific, Foster looks at the turbo prop and comments, 'That can't be my airplane, I booked the big one!'  The gate agent calmly replies, 'This is the big airplane!'

We often hear similar comments when carrying connecting passengers to or from their home airport.  There is a common misconception that if you book a ticket with a major airline, you will be flying only on that airline and on larger aircraft like Boeing 747s or Airbus 340s.  The major airlines don't make much of an effort to correct this misconception, but the reality is that if you are flying from a small, regional airport, you will be flying on a small regional airplane operated by a contract airline company.

I'll pick on Asheville because I've heard more comments carrying passengers there lately than usual - the following comment is fairly standard:  'I thought this airline flew bigger airplanes!  I can't believe we have to fly on such a small airplane!'  Keep in mind that although there is less head room in the aisle, the seat size on our airplane is standard for the airline (big plane or small) and we have 50 seats!  Unfortunately, Asheville is simply not a big enough market to merit a 747 at current ticket prices.

I've also heard that travelers from Macon were bad about complaining.  First, when we started using 70 seat turbo props to replace the larger aircraft serving Macon, then they complained about the cramped cabin when we started using 50 seat jets.  Unfortunately, Macon is now served by a 19 seat single engine propeller airplane.  We don't fly those, but I can only imagine the warm fuzzies that airplane gives Macon residents!

Aborting Landing

An aborted landing is an unusual occurrence - I've only had to participate in 2 of them in the last year.  Every aborted landing is fairly unique and often unexpected unless you're in the simulator for yearly training.  Today's was simple enough - when we rounded out to land, a gust of wind caught us helping the airplane to balloon back up several feet above the runway.  It was a shorter runway so the captain (who was flying) increased the power, called for go-around settings and pitched the airplane to climb.  We flew a brief traffic pattern back around the airport and returned for an uneventful second attempt.

The captain did key up the PA system to explain why we had aborted the landing and that, although discomforting, it was a much better alternative to going off the end of the runway and into the grass.  I'm sure the passengers were generally agreeable to this!

If you travel by air frequently, you will experience this event at one time or another.  One woman commented as she left 'I've done this three times at this airport!'  Another woman exclaimed 'This was my second time this week!'  Yet another woman stated, 'The first one must have been a practice run!'  Oddly, I didn't hear any comments from the men.

Speaking French

It’s an interesting thing to fly into Canada where one moment, the controller is speaking to you in English and the next he is speaking to someone else in French.  While English is still the international language of aviation, some controllers and pilots are more comfortable speaking in their native language.  Either that or they are aware of the discomfort it causes the French impaired and spend the time between radio calls snickering at our obvious lack of intelligence. 

I have been told never to speak any word of the local controller’s language – no ‘Bonjour’ or ‘Hola’ or any other minor greeting.  If you do make such an error, you are typically awarded with a steady stream of unintelligible instructions that you have no hope of understanding or reading back.  It’s not that I would discourage learning another language but I’m just not sure I could hold my nose up high enough to speak French (no offense to my French friends intended!).

I was actually surprised to find myself relieved to be talking to a heavily accented Boston controller as we crossed back into our own airspace.  At least I can speak Bostonian!