I paused for a moment. No longer did I have to consider what the Captain would want. I was the Captain. It is what I want. "Let's board 5 minutes early."
It really felt no different than any other day. Of course, it wasn't any different. Prior to starting this trip, it had been a couple months since I'd last flown. Besides moving from the right seat to the left seat, there really wasn't much difference in flying the airplane. When you pull the control wheel, the airplane goes up. When you push the throttles, you make more noise and burn more dinosaurs. Many tongue-in-cheek pilots like to joke when switching airplanes.
"Hey John, how is she today?" the new Captain would ask the Captain who had just flown.
"Actually, not bad at all. Flew fine all day. Well, actually she does have a tendency to make hard landings from the left seat! *YUK YUK YUK*"
What, you might ask, does one have to do to be able to make such hilarious jokes? Well, as I found out over the past 2 months, it is quite the process. A typical upgrade is broken down into three phases: Ground School, Simulator Training, and Operational Experience (OE). Each phase has two separate tests to complete before moving onto the next. Ground school had a final exam and an oral exam. Simulator training was followed by a Check Ride and a Line Oriented Evaluation. Operational Experience included an FAA Observation and a Line Check Evaluation. So, here goes:
Ground School:
I received the phone call in the middle of June. "Chris, this is Cliff the Chief Pilot. I had a guy in the July Upgrade class drop out for a family emergency. I really need a St Louis Captain and you're next on the list. Will you be ready for a July 1st start date?"
The phone call was exhilarating! Was I ready for more responsibility, more pay, more highly valued flight time, and to be based in the city I lived? Without a doubt! Of course, what he was really asking was if I was mentally prepared for the course work of an upgrade. Some First Officers don't make it through because of a lack of knowledge required to pass the check ride.
As a missile officer in the Air Force, we were always told that a Deputy's (or in our lingo, First Officer) primary role was as a Commander-in-Training. Everything we did was to prepare ourselves to be in charge. The Commanders' primary job was to train their replacements; to create carbon copies of themselves. Unlike in aviation, you didn't have the luxury of always sitting in the right seat collecting a paycheck. After 4 years, you had to move on.
I took this lesson I learned and applied it to my career at the airlines. Every decision that the Captain made, I would try to figure out why he made it. When I wasn't sure, I asked. Some pilots, being Type-A egomaniacs didn't appreciate the "second guessing," as they referred to it. It didn't stop me from doing it. At the rate of movement that is starting to happening in the airlines, I didn't have the luxury of being a "gear-slinger," or "window-licker" as some Captains lovingly refer to some of the more disengaged First Officers. And I wouldn't be happy with my decision making until I was two steps ahead of the Captains I was flying with. What's almost comical is, some of those same Captains who didn't like me asking questions sure appreciated me being 2 steps ahead of them and getting things done before they even thought to do it.
So, on July 1st, I showed back up to the training building, lunch bag in hand, and ready to get at it. What followed was only 8 days of classroom and hands on instruction. What we learned in almost 5 weeks during my initial training was covered in less than two. The learning curve was steep and the level of knowledge and comprehension required was significantly higher. As became my routine since 2011 when I first left the Air Force to pursue this career, I found a comfortable seat in a local Starbucks and studied. And studied. And studied. Who needs weekends, right?
Written Final Exam
On the final day of class, there was the written test. My girlfriend of almost a year now, Nicole, came to visit me at the Starbucks the day before the test. She sat across from me reading a book while I dug through my manuals and some interactive slide shows. "You look stressed," she commented almost matter of fact.
"Of course I'm stressed. The written test is tomorrow. They are covering systems in 2 and a half days. In initial it was 3 weeks plus a day of review. We are doing the last systems lesson tomorrow morning and taking the test tomorrow afternoon. What if I fail?" I said beginning to panic.
"Relax! You'll be fine," she said in attempt to belay my spiral of anxiety. The next day, I scored a 97% on the test. Inadequate as a missile officer but far exceeding standards as an airline captain. I needed only an 80%. "See, I knew you'd be fine" she said, almost bragging.
After the ground school, we sat in a highly computerized model of the airplane and did "Systems Integration." We pushed the touch screen computer screens and pulled up a system diagram to learn about what happens when various malfunctions occur. It's good to know what your airplane is doing when things start going wrong. It was 4 days of complex scenario-based training there and then we were released to study for the oral exam.
Oral Exam
Two days whole days to study. From 8 am until I literally couldn't take it anymore, I sat in my coffee shop and went over everything. Memory Items, Aircraft Limitations, Rules and Regulations, System descriptions, There are 27 manuals available to us in flight covering everything from our Standard Operating Procedures to how to accommodate disabled passengers. I read every one of them, twice. At one point, after sitting there for a half an hour glazing over one of the manuals, I sent a text to one of my friends who was in my class and would be my partner for the simulator portion.
ME: Dude. I can't do it anymore. I don't know what else to study.
FRIEND: I know what you mean. I just did every single note card in under 10 minutes. Those things cover every single thing they could possibly ask.
ME: I just want to get this over with.
I decided to take the night before the oral exam and just relax. I'd long ago passed the point of diminishing returns and was nearing the asymptote. At this point, the effort I was putting into it was becoming more frustrating than enlightening. I tried to relax but it wasn't working. Nicole was going with a friend to a concert and asked if I wanted to go. "Are you sure? Maybe this will help you get your mind off it and relax!"
"Relax?! How can I relax? The test was easy compared to this. They can ask ANYTHING and I just have to know it!" I exclaimed. I felt prepared but, at the same time woefully unprepared. I attribute this test anxiety to missiles. Thanks Missiles.
"Chris. Relax. You'll do fine. Let me know how it goes when you're done." She tried to reassure. It may have helped a little but it would take a miracle to overcome the tidal wave of self-doubt that accompanies tests for me.
The morning of the exam, we'd heard mixed reviews from other people in our class regarding their orals. Our examiner, in particular, had recently just failed two Captain candidates in their oral. For some of us, once examiner found that they were prepared and knew their stuff, the orals were fairly brief. Kyle, my partner, who I felt was more prepared for the oral than I was, went first. He spent nearly every minute of the two allotted hours in the room. I paced and paced and paced. It looked as if I was practicing to reprise the role as Dustin Hoffman's Rainman. "Crew Oxygen Masks: Don. Select 100%. Crew Communication: Establish. Recirculation Fan: Off." When he came out, he smiled. "That wasn't too bad. But he is thorough." I'd hope so. After two hours, what was left to ask?
It was my turn. My heart racing, I took deep breaths and sat down trying to clear my head. What will he ask? Will they be hard? Will I screw his up? And then the rapid fire questioning began. "What's the memory item for Emergency Descent? What about Cabin Smoke? How many batteries? What are they made of? How many generators and how many volts? What about amps? What happens if one fails? Two? Three? All of them? What's the max temperature to start an engine? What starts the engine? What is the limitation on consecutive start attempts? When would you abort a start?" It went on like this for nearly two hours. And then he paused, flipping through a notebook he had. "Well, I think I covered just about everything. Your partner was sharp and so were you. Never be afraid to stop everything if you feel yourself getting behind or are uncomfortable. You're in charge out there now. Good luck in your sims."
And then it was over.
Simulator Training
The oral exam was Friday morning at 10am. We had to show up for our first simulator at 11pm and would spend the following 7 days in "the box" from midnight to 4am. If there is any one thing I learned during that training, is I could never work the graveyard or mids shift. FedEx, I appreciate your pay scales but I'm pretty sure I'd be dead at 50.
Following the briefing, we entered the room supported by hydraulic actuators and sat in our seats. The first time I sat in the Captains seat was...well, it was weird. Aside from my primary training in Florida and the occasional flight with a guy I was training to be a flight instructor, I spent very little time in the left seat. Of the nearly 3000 hours I've accumulated in the last 4 years, less than 300 have been on that side of the airplane.
The simulator is slightly disorienting as a thing in itself. It moves as close to the real thing as is technologically possible. It flips and turns and twists trying to do its best to make you feel what the airplane would actually be doing during a flight. Inside the simulator, though, is an accurate flight deck. Everything works, even down to the air conditioning blowing cold air when they are turned on.
We had only 6 simulators to prepare for our check ride the following Saturday. We had to do every possible thing the airplane could do as dictated by an FAA-approved syllabus. Smoke in the cockpit and donning oxygen masks, fires, mountain and ground proximity warnings, total system failures, wind shear, wake turbulence, landing with an engine failure, cabin fires. There was literally a 4 page grid of tasks we had to be graded satisfactorily on.
One of the more fun days had us take off out of Colorado Springs and experience wind shear on take off. At only 200 feet above the ground, the airplane stops climbing and the red warning starts yelling at us "WIND SHEAR! WIND SHEAR!" as it flashes. We keep the airplane from crashing into the ground and begin a rapid climb away from the ground below. As we raise the gear and gain altitude, a little screen pops up on one of my displays. A little diamond in front of us turns yellow then another voice announces "TRAFFIC." A second later, my flight instruments turn green and red and the same voice yells "CLIMB CLIMB" as it tells us and the other airplane how to avoid a collision. Air Traffic Control gives us a turn to the west to help avoid it and then gives a 777 in the area a descent. As we roll out on West, we flight through the wake of the 777 and one of our wings violently drops causing us to enter a nearly 70 degree bank. I yank the controls in the opposite direction to right the aircraft and advise my first officer to notify air traffic control. Just as he finishes, another display pops up on one of my displays. "CAUTION: TERRAIN." The new display shows little green, yellow and red dots ahead of us starting to form the outline of the Rocky Mountain front range. "Set max thrust," I command as I slam the throttle to the stop and pull the nose of the aircraft up to almost 45 degrees up (note: a typical take off pitch attitude is less than 20). Just then, the voice turns to a warning. "TERRAIN. PULL UP. TERRAIN. PULL UP" indicating an imminent collision with the mountains. As we climb, the red dots turn yellow and valleys begin to appear on the display. I turn to follow the valley and turn away from the highest peak, Pikes Peak, as the yellow dots turn green and eventually disappear. Whew. We survived.
Of course this is a nearly impossible scenario. It is highly unlikely to ever occur but its sequence shows a possible rapid devolution of flight in which one event could lead to other compounding problems. The most important thing we accomplished, though, is what we call the V1 Cut. All jet powered aircraft are designed to take off with only one engine operating above a certain speed and climb to clear all obstacles. This maneuver, along with very low visibility landings (less than 2 football fields) were the most practiced during the sims. My partner and I managed to do very well on the "box checking" part of the sims and were able to run through two mock check rides on days 5 and 6. That should make me less nervous, right?
Check Ride
Check Ride day. The night before, I was stressing again. "I just don't want to fail this. Just one dumb mistake, like when I failed my Instructor-Instrument rating in 2011, could be another black mark on my record. I know what I'm doing, but if I lose my concentration on one thing, or misread something, I'm cooked" I explain to Nicole.
"Stop." She grabs my face at my cheeks and squeezes. "Stop it!. Just chill the F*&& out!" She says to me, straight faced. The entire situation makes me laugh. Here is this petite girl, grabbing my face, squeezing and shaking it and yelling at me. Maybe I am being hysterical.
When I show up Saturday morning for my check ride, my partner again goes first. Following another agonizing 2 hours, it's my turn. Once again, a few deep breaths and the mental imagine of being chastised by Nicole helps me relax. I enter the sim and perform everything nearly perfectly. Low visibility take off, steep turns, stall, precision approach to a balked landing and low altitude go-around to a hold. Fire. Single-Engine Approach into a Single Engine Missed Approach. Non-precision approach to a landing. Take-off, engine failure at "Rotate" speed. Climb out and shutdown the engine. Single Engine approach and land back under low visibility conditions.
It was deafeningly silent in the simulator as I weaved my way through the various scenarios. As we taxied up to the gate, the examiner had very little to say, "Well, pretty good job. Makes my job easy on a Saturday morning that you know what you're doing." Time to celebrate.
The next day, my partner and I fly two legs of a simulated revenue flight. In it, there were a few things that were wrong and we were expected to fix them but not nearly as stressful as during the sims. Following the 4 hour block, my partner and I were released to be Operating Experience.
Operating Experience
My first flight as a Captain was a passenger filled flight from St Louis to New York-LaGuardia. In the right seat was a check airman. For the next 25 hours, he would watch me do my job as a Captain, instruct me on any issues and at the end, give me a line check evaluation. My first landing in the airplane as a Captain would be with people on the airplane and it happened in New York. Once everyone had boarded and I felt caught up enough to take a breath, I picked up the mic and turned on the PA system. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking..." It sounded weird coming out of my mouth. What do I say next? If you would've asked me four years ago to the day as I was packing my bags in Ohio getting ready to embark on this journey that I'd be an International Airline Captain (yes, Canada is a different country) in 4 years, I'd laugh you out of the room.
At the 15 hour mark, an FAA represented sat in my jumpseat and watched me perform as a Captain. It's another layer of oversight imposed to ensure all airline Captains are safe to operate with people on board. He had a few critiques but nothing of consequence. He patted me on the shoulder and wished me luck.
On Sunday night, the night before Labor Day, my check airman and I walked through the gate in Washington-Dulles for our last leg together to St Louis. This would be my line check; the final leg before being released to the line.
"Will we be ready to board on time?" the gate agent asked as we approached the podium.
I looked at him and he shrugged. "Let's board 5 minutes early. It's go-home day," I told her smiling. It had been over 2 months since I started this process. I'd been through hours of studying, practicing, simulating, and practical applications of flying people around for the last 7 days. My landings were mostly all smooth, but on the last leg, perhaps excited to get home for the BBQ or because of the excitement for getting through this arduous process, I really plunked it on. "Ah shit!" I exclaimed. My check airman laughed at me.
"You can't win them all man. I don't think anyone will have to see a chiropractor after that," he joked.
We pulled up to the gate, shut the airplane down and I once again reached for the mic to say goodbye to the passengers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking," I said, although this time without pause or apprehension. "For those of you who didn't feel it, we have arrived in St Louis. Thanks again for flying with us and we hope to see you again soon."
When I show up Saturday morning for my check ride, my partner again goes first. Following another agonizing 2 hours, it's my turn. Once again, a few deep breaths and the mental imagine of being chastised by Nicole helps me relax. I enter the sim and perform everything nearly perfectly. Low visibility take off, steep turns, stall, precision approach to a balked landing and low altitude go-around to a hold. Fire. Single-Engine Approach into a Single Engine Missed Approach. Non-precision approach to a landing. Take-off, engine failure at "Rotate" speed. Climb out and shutdown the engine. Single Engine approach and land back under low visibility conditions.
It was deafeningly silent in the simulator as I weaved my way through the various scenarios. As we taxied up to the gate, the examiner had very little to say, "Well, pretty good job. Makes my job easy on a Saturday morning that you know what you're doing." Time to celebrate.
The next day, my partner and I fly two legs of a simulated revenue flight. In it, there were a few things that were wrong and we were expected to fix them but not nearly as stressful as during the sims. Following the 4 hour block, my partner and I were released to be Operating Experience.
Operating Experience
My first flight as a Captain was a passenger filled flight from St Louis to New York-LaGuardia. In the right seat was a check airman. For the next 25 hours, he would watch me do my job as a Captain, instruct me on any issues and at the end, give me a line check evaluation. My first landing in the airplane as a Captain would be with people on the airplane and it happened in New York. Once everyone had boarded and I felt caught up enough to take a breath, I picked up the mic and turned on the PA system. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking..." It sounded weird coming out of my mouth. What do I say next? If you would've asked me four years ago to the day as I was packing my bags in Ohio getting ready to embark on this journey that I'd be an International Airline Captain (yes, Canada is a different country) in 4 years, I'd laugh you out of the room.
At the 15 hour mark, an FAA represented sat in my jumpseat and watched me perform as a Captain. It's another layer of oversight imposed to ensure all airline Captains are safe to operate with people on board. He had a few critiques but nothing of consequence. He patted me on the shoulder and wished me luck.
On Sunday night, the night before Labor Day, my check airman and I walked through the gate in Washington-Dulles for our last leg together to St Louis. This would be my line check; the final leg before being released to the line.
"Will we be ready to board on time?" the gate agent asked as we approached the podium.
I looked at him and he shrugged. "Let's board 5 minutes early. It's go-home day," I told her smiling. It had been over 2 months since I started this process. I'd been through hours of studying, practicing, simulating, and practical applications of flying people around for the last 7 days. My landings were mostly all smooth, but on the last leg, perhaps excited to get home for the BBQ or because of the excitement for getting through this arduous process, I really plunked it on. "Ah shit!" I exclaimed. My check airman laughed at me.
"You can't win them all man. I don't think anyone will have to see a chiropractor after that," he joked.
We pulled up to the gate, shut the airplane down and I once again reached for the mic to say goodbye to the passengers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking," I said, although this time without pause or apprehension. "For those of you who didn't feel it, we have arrived in St Louis. Thanks again for flying with us and we hope to see you again soon."
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