Decision Height*

The Logbook in Your Head

2012-02-04T12:39:00.000-06:00

Not much flying for me these days. My still beautiful bride of 38 years is recovering from surgery and I'm staying home to do the requisite chores. Actually I am practicing up for retirement and finding I'm pretty good at it. None-the-less, Thursday was so springlike I secured permission to leave her alone for a while (she was glad to be rid of me). I called Squatch to see if he wanted to take

Bad Night in Omaha

2012-01-01T19:32:00.000-06:00

I knew it would be a bad night. I was at the Omaha Hilton, on New Year's Eve. It was a short layover, so we couldn't even stay up for the fireworks because we had an Oh-Lord-thirty wake-up call. As we headed up to our room we nudged past hundreds of New Year's revelers, some dressed for the hotel's big midnight bash. Miniskirts and ball dresses abounded. Most of the wearers of these garments had

No Rest for the Weary

2011-12-28T10:28:00.000-06:00

As usual, when the government says I'm here to help you, check your six, check your wallet and look around for an open window. Their intentions may be good, but in my opinion, more often than not they make your life more complicated than if they had left you alone. Such may be the case with the new fatigue rules. And as usual you need to hire an attorney to interpret them. The big change is

Nothing Else Compares

2011-11-27T17:27:00.007-06:00

I look over at Dave. He's nodding off. His head bobbles, sways. The chin drops, snaps back up, then drops again. This routine goes on for several minutes before the chin becomes pinned, permanently it seems, against his slowly heaving chest. He's not supposed to be doing that. Perhaps he's praying. That's not prohibited, so I'll give Dave the benefit of the doubt. He brought his girlfriend with

Loggin' Light Years (Last Part)

2011-11-25T20:09:00.000-06:00

Bob was happy to have survived the deep downturn in the mid-forties when high-speed intercontinental seafloor rail service took a heavy toll on the airline business. The recovery from that bust began when the combined rocket-hybrid synergistic particle-impulse engines were developed in the fifties, becoming the revolutionary breakthrough the aerospace industry had long awaited. Finally, fuel

Loggin' Light Years (Part II)

2011-11-13T20:35:00.000-06:00

The two pilots complied with the checklist as the aircraft read it to them, while Bob continued to visually monitor the taxi progress. He saw multiple launches taking place on the runway 18L complex far to his left on the southern horizon and recoveries flowing in from his right into the 18R tiers. Approaching the entry point he could see the broad downward sloping ramp to the 27LL tunnel. A

Loggin' Light Years (Part I)

2011-11-06T17:45:00.000-06:00

The long dry spell continues. I have logged only about 50 hours in the last eight weeks. This makes for poor pickings for blog topics. But it generates a lot of time to muse up crazy stories. Loggin' Light Years is a story of a day in the life of an airline pilot who lives far in the future. I asked some of my first officers to come up with ideas about what the future of the airline profession

The Skies of Wrath

2011-10-16T14:00:00.002-05:00

In the last 64 days I have flown seven times. Seven days, one leg each of those seven days. The longest was Zurich to Washington. The shortest Chicago to Washington. There was also a 3-day simulator proficiency check somewhere in there.This idleness is ostensibly because the company announced it would decrease flying in our fleet beginning September. Boy, did they ever. The line-holders have been

The Zoo

2011-09-29T12:44:00.001-05:00

PA announcements reverberated across the open concourse. Voices from one gate over-rode those of others. The man to my front sounded Caribbean, but his English was passable. Across the way another gate agent shouted at her passengers with a middle-eastern accent. Neither seemed to know of the existence of the word, “the.”“Door is about to close!”“Plane is on ground.”Jeeze Louise, I thought. What,

Let George Do It

2011-09-14T08:35:00.000-05:00

In the 1930s when autopilots first came out, Ernie Gann and his peers had some fun with their “stewardesses,” as they called them then. They switched on the autopilot, which at the time was only a crude wing-leveler, then disconnected a flexible air hose that blew warm air into the cockpit. They taped a glove onto the hose and fixed the glove to the control yoke. Much amusement resulted when

Stuck Mic

2011-08-30T14:05:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago news broke about two pilots who were talking with a stuck mic. You probably remember. They were discussing the sexual orientation of their male flight attendants and the apparent ugliness of their female flight attendants. If you want to hear it, you can click here, but I don't recommend it. It's pretty disgusting. Anyway, their conversation went out over the airwaves and

Dear Flight 904 Passenger

2011-08-19T11:36:00.000-05:00

A friendly note from your caring Department of Transportation. Last evening at Dulles Flying Field you no doubt benefited greatly from our new “3 Hour Tarmac Rule.” Just to refresh your memory, we passed that rule in 2009 because some folks in Rochester sat out a snowstorm on a jet for about 8 hours and were quite upset over it. Consequently―and because we value your concerns (and your votes for

Ode to Keavy

2011-08-05T11:03:00.017-05:00

Some predictable words were said over Keavy Nenninger's casket last week. If you stay in the flying game long enough, you'll hear that old overworked platitude. You'll hear it again and again. You'll hear it at the funerals and the memorials. You'll read it in the obits and the columns, in bars and hangars. She/he died doing what she/he loved. I don't want to hear it. If Keavy had a crystal

Number 100

2011-07-15T12:27:00.028-05:00

This is the 100th Decision Height―a good place to pause and consider where to go with it. I ask you. The first was December 28th, 2007. It began when my sons urged me to blog so they could keep up with my whereabouts and ramblings. I wanted to know what a blog was and why it had such an ignoble name. (I never found out about the name.) The first readers were friends and relatives, but most of

Part III: The Day I Quit The Airline

2011-07-12T13:14:00.003-05:00

Two weeks after my final interview the letter came, but it was neither an invitation to sign on the dotted line, nor a rejection. I was now in the “hiring pool.” Hiring had ceased, for reasons the letter didn't give. I would be informed if and when hiring resumed. I called my old friend Russ, the commander of the Memphis Air Guard unit and asked him if the C-141 instructor job was still mine, and

Part II: How I tried Not to Get Hired

2011-06-24T18:54:00.001-05:00

Continued from the previous post: I went back to Denver and checked-in for the second round of gauntlets and waterboarding. Without ado they ushered me into the office of a shrink—a real one, with several impressive diplomas on his wall. He asked me more of the same kind of questions on the big psychological written test I had taken on the previous visit. I knew to be careful not to contradict

Part I: How I Tried Not to Get Hired

2011-06-08T23:54:00.001-05:00

A few posts back I wrote a piece called “Monkey Business.” You remember; it was about the Air Force colonel who disparaged the airline business at an airlift operations course. His diatribe drove me in the opposite direction he intended. I filled out airline applications that evening. (I had been carrying them in my brief case for weeks.)And I did every thing wrong according to the hiring gurus.

A Scathing Rebuttal!

2011-06-01T11:05:00.001-05:00

I have never gotten such a long and detailed comment on any of my 90 or so posts since I started Decision Height, as I did on the last one from my old friend, UPS Captain Dan Gabel, with whom I obviously struck a nerve. (See "Ode to the Trash Hauler," the last post before this one.) Some of Dan's concerns are compelling, thus I have made them the subject matter of this post. I agree with him on

Ode to the Trash Hauler

2011-04-26T12:32:00.002-05:00

I realize I have pledged not to whine. (I hear the groans. I know, I know: Handles- PULL, Triggers- SQUEEZE. Boom!) See you back next post. If you're still here, grant me this one deviation.I'm troubled by something. I simply don't understand why a captain at a package hauling outfit makes a hundred grand a year, or more, than I, your humble correspondent―who hauls living, breathing humans. A

Monkey Business

2011-04-12T13:36:00.002-05:00

More years ago than I wish to recount I was sitting in an auditorium full of USAF officers. A beak-nosed, beady-eyed colonel was lecturing us about the growing problem of military pilot retention. (The airlines were on a hiring frenzy because of expansion and retirees.) “Why,” the colonel asked us rhetorically, “would any pilot leave the dignified service of our Air Force and our country to

Curt's Bad Day

2011-03-20T15:15:00.000-05:00

At various times along the way I've written stories about other captains. Keep in mind that I can only get these second hand since I don't fly with other captains. First Officers like to unload on me about the bad flights they've had with certain captains. I hear their names regularly. “Captain Strange Glove” comes to mind. They call him that because he wears military Nomex flying gloves. That's

Such Men II

2011-02-25T00:27:00.002-06:00

I steered the Six-seven onto the runway in Rome and told Hank it was his jet. I let go the tiller. He grabbed the yoke and began whispering. I leaned closer to try and understand what he was whispering. I glanced at Shuan, who was on the jump seat. He was watching Hank, snickering.Then I made out his whispers. “Lord, don't let me prang it off! Lord, don't let me prang it off.”I cracked up. I

Groundhog Days

2011-01-24T12:12:00.000-06:00

This is happening too much to me―these 75 hour layovers in mid-winter, in mid-Russia. It starts with the agonizing drive from the airport, the last hour jerky bumpy stops-and-goes past miles of monotonous buildings in a cramped dark bus. Conversation among the crew of 11 dies out quickly as heads bend to meet hands propped on elbows. Finally we arrive at the Marriott Courtyard at 2pm, a discreet

Dire Warnings

2011-01-20T14:34:00.001-06:00

The trip got off to a shaky start. In the final hour prior to launch, as we were reviewing the paperwork, my dispatcher called. The Moscow weather had him spooked. He wanted to change the weather diversion alternate from Sheremetyeyvo, which is just north of Moscow, to Hamburg, Germany, two hours southwest. That meant putting on another 25,000 or so pounds of fuel. “You mean all of west Russia is

Sleepless Break

2011-01-12T17:34:00.002-06:00

It mystifies me to no end. How can I go for hours up in the cockpit without needing a head call (in the Marine Corps they say potty break) and then when I'm back here in the crew rest seat trying to sleep, I have to go every half hour?Maybe it's all that rich Italian coffee I gorged on coming out of Roma this morning. Good stuff. Didn't spill any on the console either. I know you read about that

The Dawn Aims at Us

2010-12-31T11:08:00.004-06:00

Been lazed? Boy, I have. By Mother Nature. In the summer over the north Atlantic the sun hovers all night just below the northern horizon and slowly swings up in front of you like a surfacing submarine. Your eyes have plenty of time to adjust. But in deep winter it pops out of the east and fires an eye-piercing beam straight at the cockpit. Gotcha! Eyes accustomed to dark flight painfully

Cockroach Corner

2010-12-24T10:40:00.000-06:00

One of the few perks about being on Reserve is occasionally a nice surprise comes down the pike. But most such surprises are of the non-pleasant variety. When I saw Cockroach Corner in the itinerary for this trip I smiled. It's December and I was headed for Miami. The weather was perfect—sunny and 75 degrees. The blue Atlantic lapped against the beach behind our layover hotel. I took a couple of

Attitude

2010-11-25T22:35:00.001-06:00

“It's all about attitude, Boss. Ya know? Attitude is everything.”Mike calls me “Boss” every time we fly. Normally I'd object, but Mike has a great...ah...attitude. It's his way of rendering respect. He's comfortable with it, and thus so am I. Today, Mike and I are out flying while most people are home enjoying Thanksgiving with their families. Not us. We've got only a turkey sandwich, courtesy of

Another Tradition Gone

2010-11-03T19:53:00.002-05:00

I was awed when I saw it. Decades ago when I first started up a USAF A-7D, pushed up the power, heard that big Allison turbofan whine and eased out of the parking spot, I looked down at my crew chief and—to my utter amazement—saw him standing at attention holding a perfect salute. I had not seen this done in pilot training, because back at Vance AFB, civilians worked the ramp. I wondered who

Lord, Don't Let Me Get Stapled

2010-10-12T10:15:00.029-05:00

Every line of work has its jargon, its insider talk and funny little mumblings understood only by members of the ilk that created them. I've been a part of three of the foremost such sorts: the arcane and highly profane military; the profoundly esoteric oil business; and now the most exclusive of them all—the airline industry. More specifically, the airline pilot business. Why exclusive? Because

Judging Jenny

2010-09-28T10:12:00.017-05:00

I admit it. I can't seem to break the propensity to pre-judge folks. Usually I predict their behavior and job performance at first sight. I have a long history of this flaw in my character, having fell in love the first millisecond I saw my wife. I called that one right, but otherwise I'm mostly wrong. So when I first saw Jenny in Flight Ops, I figured the trip was going to be trying. She

He'll take you up; he'll bring you down.

2010-09-07T12:42:00.020-05:00

Heard of Michael O'Leary? He's a moron, albeit a very rich and successful one. He owns an airline. His airline is Ryan Air, of Ireland. It's the premier lost-cost flying cattle car company in Europe. But people ride his planes because his prices are nasty, rotten dirty cheap. They're cheap because he is always looking for ways to cut corners. He has cut employee pay to the bone, and can't do

Back on the Vodka Express

2010-08-04T20:56:00.020-05:00

Russians don't invest a lot of money in air conditioning. I venture to say many of them have never seen it. But summer has now smitten them with a terrible resolve, and there go I into the furnace.I found Moscow hot in ways other than the thermometer can measure.The heat was utterly appalling. A Southerner, I'm used to wet heat, but I loathe dry, sauna-like hotness that, as opposed to steaming

Boom Boom

2010-07-21T12:56:00.012-05:00

You want your flights to be peaceful and boring, because that means they're safe. But when your lead flight attendant introduces herself as “Boom Boom” you know this flight will likely not be mundane. While she talks you think about the last time you heard that name. You were in a far away land, long ago in a place where cultured fighter pilots with an appreciation for the art of the dance, and

God's G

2010-06-23T23:39:00.018-05:00

You meet at the field at six, near sundown as the Southern sun starts to cool, and gather round and plan the 30 minutes that will define your week. Maybe your month, or life. Maybe end it, too.You pick a leader. No one wants it but somebody's got to do it, and so today we volunteer Squatch. He hates to lead but we make him lead because he's due. He sighs, his big shoulders slumping. He leans

Such Men

2010-06-09T16:38:00.017-05:00

He was one of the most loathsome characters Lance had ever known―the kind of a man you glance askew at and keep your distance from, maybe even to the point of longing for a shower after you part from him. But Lance couldn't avoid him. He was the captain. His name was Porter Mills, and he lived in the hills of West Virginia when he wasn't pushing 737s around.(If I used his real name I might be at

Lucky Ones

2010-06-01T00:43:00.000-05:00

I hate it when I get to flight operations for a trip and see a table laid out with sandwiches, cookies, drinks and such. That means I'm working on a holiday, which I do a lot of these days. The company puts out free food for pilots, ostensibly to express their thanks for us coming in to work while everyone else celebrates—as if we had a choice. I grabbed a sandwich and printed the flight

Words I Don't Want to Hear

2010-05-17T22:01:00.004-05:00

If I hear that word on the aircraft PA one more time, I think I'll cast off my seat belt, jump up, shake my fist and yell, “I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT WORD AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME? NOT AGAIN, OR ELSE...”The passengers will look at me, stunned, mouths agape. The flight attendant will reach for the handset to call the captain. It'll be a “Level I” incident, maybe a Level II. Security will be waiting at

Delay Tactics

2010-05-06T19:06:00.001-05:00

Our government has come to our rescue again. They've passed a new law. Have you heard? They will now fine the airlines up to $27,500 per person if they strand you on the tarmac over three hours. My, how they look after our best interests. Fearing they my have to shell out about $3 million bucks for each of their planes that sit off-gate for more than three hours, the airlines will surely

Hard Clouds

2010-04-16T16:29:00.004-05:00

Iceland: where geology and aviation collide. Literally. You heard about it today. Go here. Thousands of flights were canceled in western Europe and more trans-Atlantic crossings scrubbed. I saw it coming. Last week my dispatcher routed our Moscow flight north of Iceland. He said the winds up there were better, but he cautioned us to be careful about selecting Keflavik as an alternate. A volcano

Right Deviation

2010-03-20T17:50:00.003-05:00

Plowing contrails gives you a lot of time to think. You think about how the world is, and how you would change it if you were the planetary monarch. You think about how common sense and logical reasoning seem to have gone the way of Nehru jackets and bell bottoms. And then suddenly something happens that proves it.I had just told the passengers to get their cameras ready. The Grand Canyon was

No Kids Allowed!

2010-03-13T14:18:00.006-06:00

Absurd, don't you think? The kids in the control tower at JFK last week. You remember. Click on the tower: Preposterous, you say? Me too. Think about it: How dare they? What an abomination! A screw-up of colossal proportions that must not go unpunished and un-made-an-example-of. (Is there a better word for that?) They let the kids talk on the radio! Ludicrous! Kids need to be banished forever

Distracted Solutions

2010-03-02T09:24:00.007-06:00

They've done it now. I'm peeved. Click on this, my nettled friends, and read: Thanks to the little image you just clicked on, the FAA and NTSB already has access to a recording of the last 30 minutes of each flight, which they can review in case of an accident. That will soon become the last 2 hours of the flight. I've got no complaints about that. But this latest “safety” initiative that you

Hallowed Ground

2010-02-18T15:02:00.008-06:00

Because of the glaciers attacking Washington, I got two extra days in Londontown. The weather was dog crap, as usual this time of year over there, so I decided to stay indoors. But not at the hotel. I took the “Tube” to the RAF museum. Admission was free. What do you think the first plane is that you see when you walk in?SPITFIRE, you shout with absolute certainty. Wrong. Hawker Hurricane?

A Surprise Call

2010-02-04T10:26:00.006-06:00

Some very senior captain suddenly got sick and no reserves were available to fill in. A bad day at the crew desk, I suppose. So I got a surprise call on my day off, a Sunday morning. Could I take a Rome trip that evening at 17:30? If so, they would move my day off to another day of my choice. I told them I'd call back in 10 minutes. An idea struck me, but it was dripping with hazard. I took a

Check Your Attitude

2010-01-13T11:25:00.011-06:00

No commenter has ever gotten sore at me, which suggests I'm an affable guy, writing about safe subjects. I try to leave out politics and whining, and most people like that. But in this post, I will depart from my usual lyrical musings and try diligently to torque someone off.Before I go there, I hope you have read the comments about the Dreamliner in the last post. Some are funny, and others

Dreamin' the Dream

2010-01-03T22:02:00.006-06:00

A big announcement rolled through our company last month. The Dreamliner is coming—the Boeing 787. Twenty-five of them. Yet there wasn't much fanfare and even less enthusiasm for the news. We are the last major US airline to order them. And only 25 at that. In times past we would have been the launch customer. No one seems to be excited. I ask my first officers, “You got your Dreamliner bid in

This Time of Night

2009-12-04T15:21:00.009-06:00

Mild hallucination often sets in―this time of night. You're weary and stiff, butt-sore, and numby. Coffee lost its appeal hours ago. But you force down a last cup of the putrid stuff on the promise of it's poisonous jolt. You blink hard and rub your sandpaper eyelids.Only an hour left and you strain to see the glow ahead; you'll touch down just as old Big Eye trains his laser at you from the far

My Tribe

2009-11-27T00:08:00.019-06:00

A legendary writer of aviation literature, and a passionate purveyor of truth, once wrote:"Airline pilots are separated into tribes in spite of their common occupation....United pilots are considered colorless and sticklers for regulation. American pilots are thought to be a mixed lot, prone to independent complaint and rebellion. TWA pilots, highly regarded individually, are pitied for the

What's Wrong?

2009-11-13T13:07:00.014-06:00

A good friend sent an e-mail the other day―addressed to the usual gang, all friends―citing the recent rash of airline pilot incidents: a Delta crew landing on the taxiway; a Northwest crew getting distracted by their laptops; and a United pilot arrested for drinking. He ended his messages with this question: "What is going on in the airline business?”After a quick Google search I replied: “Over

Throwing Darts in the Cockpit

2009-10-24T21:52:00.005-05:00

Unless you're living in a snow cave in Antarctica you know about the incident last week in which pilots at another airline didn't respond to radio transmissions and overflew their destination by 168 miles. Now I can hardly pass by a group of passengers without someone asking, “What is it you guys do while the plane is cruising?” This is not surprising because the "passengers" in the cockpit on

Saturated

2009-10-20T20:55:00.019-05:00

Carl was flying the other night on the DEN-LAX leg. He's an ex-naval “aviator.” Never could understand why they don't call them pilots. Carl and I have some things in common; we're about the same age, we both love dogs we and both flew A-7s. But he had better A-7 stories than I did. He kept my sides hurting from laughing so hard.I had given the passengers my standard pre-departure speech when I

Texas Losem

2009-10-14T16:49:00.022-05:00

I looked down with my usual astonishment at the colors, shapes and shadows of the Desert Southwest. Unscrolling from the expanse ahead I began to make out a semi-circular shape, the typical arc of a hogback formed by the erosion of a plunging fold.I became puzzled when I saw it was bisected by a straight hogback that cut the semi-circular one off and extended far out in a straight line, dying out

Breathing Deep

2009-09-28T12:52:00.005-05:00

We were a somber group. Homesick, all. You never get used to it. Sunday mornings are not supposed to be like this―early, dark, foggy and far from home.The van driver loaded our bags―four crews of pilots, eight of us heading to the airport, nobody saying much. Just civil utterings."G' morning"A nod."How's it goin'?""Livin' the dream, man. Just livin' the dream." Yawn.A cynical chuckle. A cuss. A

The Fire

2009-09-05T01:25:00.004-05:00

It was a vivid dream, as dreams go. Holed up there, in the Hyatt–Dulles the night before a mission―make no mistake about it, airline flights are missions―it came on me near morning. At least I think it was near morning. How is it that the moment of impact is when the alarm sounds?I was flying the right seat. I haven’t done that in 14 years. Don’t know why I was there. In my military days aircraft

The Moon on My Yo-yo String

2009-08-26T16:09:00.016-05:00

The Moon was so stunning even the hotel van driver remarked about it on the drive to the airport. Yes, it was a fine night for it, I reckoned. A fine night for a red-eye trans-con.Indeed it was, and as we pushed back I caught a glimpse of that orange glowing quarter-moon sinking into the Pacific, its sharp horn following the rest of it down like a foundering ship. When we swung our nose around on

A Blue Moment

2009-08-11T21:29:00.009-05:00

The alarm clock’s brutal twanging sends a spasm through me. I peer at it as if it were a loathed thing. It is. Oh-four hundred, it says. I roll out of bed mumbling a homage to a deity. Many years of professional flying have taught me that in order to soar with the eagles you must often get up with the pigeons. But it never gets easier. Down in the hotel lobby I meet my first officer, Jay

Three-holer Legacy

2009-08-04T20:54:00.004-05:00

I pranged a 757 onto 24 Right at LAX the other day. Thought I had it wired. Nice day. Little wind. Long runway with a turnoff down toward the end. No hurry to stop. Should have been a greaser.PRANG!I grimaced over it as we taxied in. I brooded over it on the van ride to the hotel. I analyzed it over dinner. Why does it bother me like this. No one can make perfect landings every time. But then, I

What's the Price?

2009-08-01T10:50:00.008-05:00

I’ve had a request to comment on airline “price gouging.”Asking an airline pilot about ticket prices is like asking a petroleum geologist about gasoline prices. We don’t know. (I'm both.) My concern is the product. The pricing of that product is far above my head. It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you. My best advice is plan ahead and buy the ticket as early as possible.I can only look at

Stand by

2009-07-26T22:10:00.004-05:00

I’ve published 50 blog posts―a milestone of sorts. I never thought I would take it this far. It started when my sons suggested I keep up a blog so the family and friends would know where I go and what I do. A thousand bloggers will tell you that. I like to go deeper.Most of you are people I’ve never met. That’s good. Thank you all for sticking around. More to come.Steer for the Dawn,--Alan

I, the Guinea Pig

2009-07-15T12:07:00.021-05:00

A guinea pig is a cute little rodent commonly used in lavatory tests. But in the world of commercial aviation a guinea pig is any pilot who first ventures up to test questionable weather before others takeoff. And thus, so are his trusting passengers. But sooner or later somebody has to do it, lest the airport remain at a standstill. Last week at Denver I became the pig, or rat, or whatever the

Aiming for the Dawn

2009-07-07T17:40:00.013-05:00

It flashed across our nose like a home run hit out of Heaven’s ballpark. A searing, white-hot dart streaked across the black sky and burned like a tracer bullet through the starry night, plunging below the southern horizon in a heartbeat. I wondered how many denizens of the dark planet sprawled below us saw it. Frenchie didn’t see it. He was heads-down, reading. His sidewall light spewed a

Round and round it goes...

2009-06-26T14:21:00.004-05:00

On the way in to Kansas City flight operations we passed a mass of people waiting to get on our jet going to Denver. They pecked at Blackberrys and listened to I-Pods behind dull eyes. They had paid to get there safely. They expected it and that’s all that mattered to them. I’m cool with that. I knew there were thunderstorms threatening Denver (DEN), so I made sure we had enough fuel to divert

A Pathetic Confession

2009-06-08T21:11:00.004-05:00

I wondered why so many people would swarm into an airport at such an unsociable hour. The sun wasn't even up. Decent folks were supposed to be still in bed. But the security screening line at the Tampa airport teemed with humanity. Our crew flashed our IDs to a sleepy uninterested agent and walked past hundreds of people, dutifully lined up for what they believed was a necessary and thorough

Reflections: Scouted

2009-05-27T11:33:00.003-05:00

About half way to Denver from Chicago we heard a ding, a flight attendant calling. I was expecting a drink offer. As I reached for the handset, my first officer, Tom, said, “I’ll take water.” But the lead flight attendant―whom at this airline we call the “purser”―immediately said, “I’ve got to see you, NOW!” I unlocked the door and she came into the cockpit with tears rolling down her cheeks.

A Jolly Petrolly

2009-05-19T19:04:00.011-05:00

What's a "Jolly Petrolly" you say? That's British slang for a happy little flying excursion, usually performed on a Saturday afternoon and including a stopover at another airport for lunch. Actually a South African friend told me that.The big news in aviation this past week was the NTSB hearings on the Buffalo NY crash last winter of Colgan Air flight 3407. You’re all familiar with that. The

"Negative, Ghostrider. The pattern is full."

2009-04-30T17:47:00.000-05:00

Whoever authorized Air Force One to fly over the Big Apple for a photo-shoot is in Big Trouble. You already know about the ruckus it caused. The news media reported that New Yorkers fled in panic, fearing with tears and screams that another hijacking was in progress; that the nearby jet fighters were preparing to shoot it down into their streets. All the news agencies—even the conservative FOX

привет друг

2009-04-18T19:01:00.000-05:00

After hours cruising across the Scandinavian arctic frontier, and then the endless miles of Russian rural lands, you come upon this...this infestation called Moscow. (I'm sorry to say that, but it was the first word that came to my mind when I saw that awesome sight.) Tall white buildings by the tens of thousands. Scattered giant clusters of human habitation. A gigantic monolith-studded cemetery

Into the Stupid Zone

2009-03-31T10:36:00.000-05:00

I thought you might be interested in a flight attendant story, although this one may not be the one flight attendants hoped I would tell.People have been focusing on Captain “Sully” Sullenberger a lot these days (see my blog entry of March 2, 2009) but it's unfortunate that Sully's flight attendants are not getting a fair piece of the credit for their outstanding job of evacuating that aircraft.

Waltzing With the Deadly Saber

2009-03-18T19:27:00.002-05:00

The route going east out of Los Angeles usually gives us a clear view of Rogers dry lake northeast of Palmdale. It's easy to see the big runway there. Part asphalt, part dry lake bed, it extends miles into the lake bed's interior. North of the runway you can make out the ramp, hangars and buildings of Edwards AFB, the famous USAF Flight Test Center where Chuck Yeager and others pioneered the jet

2009-03-14T17:31:00.000-05:00

I didn't fly this past week, so I'll take this post to respond to some of the keen comments the last post attracted. For "Anonymous" who suggested the parallel contrails were the Thuinderbirds going to an airshow: El wrongo. But I suspect that was a jab from a Blue Angels fan. The contrails are miles apart. He/she is absolutely correct about the fire. gpb0216 isn't too savvy about fires but

His Name was Jeremiah Johnson

2009-03-11T10:29:00.002-05:00

How does the new header look? It's great to have a graphic designer extraordinaire like Brad Cockrell in the family. Last Sunday I flew the "PS" route from LAX to JFK. I don't do that very often―our New York crews usually do it. PS stands for Premium Service and if you want to ride it you will pay a handsome premium. We have a few 757s dedicated to this service and they are extravagantly

About Sully

2009-03-02T10:17:00.000-06:00

So, what do I think about Sully?That question has been fired at me from all quarters lately. (For you Kansans, Sully is US Airways Captain Chesley Sullenberger, the “Hudson Hero.”) Here's what I think.Sully isn't a hero. He’s a highly trained, experienced professional who sits up in the executive office of his jetliner and does his job. His paramount goal is not to crash because he knows he will

New Look

2009-02-08T19:30:00.000-06:00

So, how does the new header look? Sorry I had to sanitize it. This age of retribution and litigation is such a curse. None-the-less, my purpose is not to disparage my company.Am I frustrated with it? Yes. But with the top brass, not my co-workers who, for the most part, work hard and earnestly trying to do a good job. Am I a union man? I belong (got no choice), and I think it has done a great

I, the Pirate

2009-02-04T12:14:00.000-06:00

As you can see, I am changing the appearance of the blog. Gone is any reference to the company I work for.Although this blog focuses on the "romance of flying," particularly as it relates to my job, the possibility of retribution by the company looms too large. If I'm to be realistic about the harsh realities of the business realm I fly in, I have to be able to talk about things corporate people

The Desert Southwest

2009-01-20T21:27:00.000-06:00

I love flying over the desert southwest because the weather is almost always good and the geology is magnificent. I know I bore people who I fly with talking about it but most of them express great interest.We were turning left and right over the Canyon and I was explaining the geology of the Canyon to my first officer, Chris. He was loving it. He said, "What a job we have! Days like this make me

Aruba

2008-12-31T11:15:00.000-06:00

This time of year we fly a lot of families, which means a lot of kids. I try to go back, if I have time before the flight starts, to invite kids to see the cockpit. Most of the teenagers shrug and shake their heads. (How can a 757 cockpit compete with X-Box?) But the smaller ones usually jump at the chance. Here's a quick kid story from a couple years ago about a rug rat that tried to destroy

Cookin' With Gas

2008-12-16T11:16:00.000-06:00

You line your plane up on the runway. The checklists are done. You’ve got your clearance. All is ready. You push up the throttle and roar off. Right? Not. Every takeoff in your life is an important event. Lives are at stake; not just your own either. One of my favorite adages goes like this: When a pilot walks out to his plane, he faces one of two possible fates: This will be his last flight,

A Greatful Man

2008-11-26T22:26:00.000-06:00

Suppose you had an unusual guest at your Thanksgiving table—a refugee from a dangerous and troubled land. One where opinions that run counter to the establishment can be unhealthy if they are found out. One where you will dress as you're told. One where the only thing you get to vote for is what to have for dinner, and that choice may be severely limited. One where the only due process you can

For Them, for Us

2008-11-16T20:31:00.000-06:00

This time every year (Veteran’s Day +/- a few days) I do something special, and I enjoy it immensely. After getting full agreement and promise of cooperation from the flight attendants I make an announcement on the PA system during our long climb to our cruising altitude.I tell all veterans to reach up and push their overhead orange call button. This will make the button light up and a “ding”

Cadillac of the Skies

2008-10-19T14:50:00.000-05:00

A compelling scene from a non-aviation movie made in 1987, Empire of the Sun, still sends chills down the necks of those of us who love flight and its history. Who can forget the sight of the British lad Jim, played by Christian Bale, standing on the rooftop of his prison barracks, after years of incarceration by the Japanese, seeing a vision of freedom coming? Remember the scene? What form did

Short Call-out

2008-10-10T16:46:00.000-05:00

I got a short callout activation Monday night for a Deep South trip: Buenos Aries at 1100 Tuesday morning. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Our daily BA trip goes out at 9:45 pm and arrives at 7am. The return flight is also an all-nighter. We never see the vast continent of South America. Its towering peaks and endless jungle lands are cloaked in darkness for us. So what was up with this

Incurable Madness

2008-10-03T09:50:00.000-05:00

What can be said of a man who returns home from his daily toil and throws up the colossal ruse that, in order to relax, he must toil again? Does the surgeon come home and dissect rabbits after dinner? Does the accountant relax before the fire and eagerly immerse himself in the paperback edition of Generally Accepted Accounting Practices? Does a farmer leave the field after a tough day’s work

The Outer Whorl

2008-09-26T10:16:00.000-05:00

I just finished a fine piece of writing entitled The Outer Whorl, by Neal Schier. The whorl, he refers to, is one of those wispy arced feathery wings of a spiral galaxy. Neal views his job as an airline pilot as if from a whorl, looking in toward the core of the airline galaxy, essentially helpless to do anything but hang on for the ride and drink of the richness of his experiences along the way,

A Surreal Flight

2008-09-17T14:04:00.000-05:00