Training Day

With both hands planted firmly on the counter, I leaned over the hotel sink and stared blankly at the foggy mirror, trying to make out my own features in the milky haze.  Taking two deep breaths, I reached for a towel and cleared a narrow band on the mirror before bringing it to my face to wipe the beaded sweat from my upper lip.  There was still plenty of time to catch the 6:30 am shuttle to Delta World Headquarters and I needed that time to ease my nerves.  I had set 3 alarms on my cell phone in the unlikely, but terrifying event that I would oversleep.

In the slowly re-fogging mirror, I adjusted my tie and checked my face one last time for stray remnants of beard.  It wasn't more than a week ago that I sported a lumberjack worth of facial hair as my fiance (now wife), her family and I cruised our way to Alaska.  Today, though, was the first day of training at my new airline.  It had been a whirlwind of a month and I still couldn't believe that I was finally going to be a pilot at Delta Air Lines.

When I entered the lobby, I began to run into familiar faces.  There were 15 people in my interview group and most of them were hanging out by the front desk waiting for the bus.  Like the glacier several weeks before calving into the bay, seeing and chatting with these familiar faces helped to melt away my terrain-altering ice-mountain of nerves..  

When we walked into class, we were handed a schedule of events for the following two weeks of Indoctrination, the first of 6 phases of training.  I quickly glanced over the paper while the instructor started to talk.  "First things, first.  I'd like to be the first to officially welcome all of you to Delta Air Lines," the head of the New Hire Program started.  "Behind you we have coffee, fruit and pastries so please help yourselves.  Oh and before I forget, bring your bathing suit and a shirt tomorrow.  That'll be your pool day."  Once in a pilot's career at a major international carrier, he is required to engage in a water evacuation, inflate a raft and climb in from the water. Day 2 would be my day.

****

When we entered the training annex, it was immediately clear the commitment that was put into safety at Delta.  We walked by large rooms with small cutouts of emergency exit doors.  At one labeled A320, a flight attendant, strapped-in to a jumpseat was repeatedly barking the commands "BEND DOWN! STAY DOWN!" while an instructor stood nearby.  A red light flashed in the window and over a speaker, a fake announcement to evacuate was made.  The flight attendant, jumped out of her seat, opened the door and started to shout more commands before her instructor stopped her to give feedback.  

After we passed the doors rooms, we entered another large open room with four or five full-size cabin mock-ups.  It looked like someone had cut a real airplane into just a metal tube (painted and everything), installed it there and filled the room with concrete up to the door opening.  Walking by fake airplane doors , you could see what looked like an operable galley behind a row of seats.  In several of the trainers, you could hear instructors talking or flight attendants practicing evacuations and various other emergencies.  

We turned the corner and entered a two story room with two truncated aircraft cabins on hydraulic stilts.  We walked up the stairs and into the realistic looking cabin.  We were told to find a seat and buckle our seat belts.  "Alright, this will be your slide evacuation drill," one instructor informed us.  "The aircraft will move and eventually simulate a crash landing.  Listen to the flight attendants instructions."

It was eerily dark in the cabin.  The windows were black except for the occasional flash to simulate lightning.  Over the speaker, came a PA.  "This is the Captain.  Brace, Brace Brace."  Immediately, the flight attendants started yelling in unison.  "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE! HEAD DOWN!  STAY DOWN!"  Even though I knew this was a simulation, a chill ran up my spine and I couldn't help to bend over and brace for impact.  They repeated the phrase over and over until the cabin "crashed" with a thunderous jolt and tilted to one side.

The calm and collected, yet authoritative chanting from the flight attendants in the darkened cabin created an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, one that I hoped to never feel again.  After another announcement from the Captain, the chant changed and we were instructed to get out of our seats, walk to the door, and jump off the edge of the aircraft falling the 15 feet to the ground via the exit slide.

A smoke generator started to fill the cabin with smoke the minute we "crash landed."  Once we were instructed to get up, I followed the beams of light piercing through the smoke to the open door at the back of the "aircraft." I looked out in the room and saw that the slide was almost pointed straight down.  It wasn't until around 5 feet below me did it start to flatten out.  Overcoming my crippling fear of heights, I jumped through the door and floated for a second or two before meeting the slide.  I reached the bottom of the slide and immediately jumped up, adrenaline pumping.  Where is the line to do that again?!  With that bit of fun complete, we debriefed the evacuation and left the room and moved on to our next drill.  

We then made our way to the pool.  The room housed a large, 7 foot deep pool about 30 meters long and at one end, an aircraft shell painted in Delta colors with a single door that would open over the pool. We were handed life vests as we walked into one side of the "aircraft" and had a seat.  Just like the evacuation drill from before, the flight attendants commanded an evacuation.  When I reached the door, I pulled the string on my life vest and it inflated in one single explosive gush of air.  I jumped away from the aircraft and into the pool.  After several seconds under water, my life vest brought me to the surface and I swam away from the aircraft with dozens of my classmates so that the rest of the 35 of us could safely evacuate the aircraft. 

Once we were all evacuated and floating in the pool, we partnered up and practiced several survival techniques.  We towed each other from one end of the pool to the other and practiced huddling to stay warm.  After several drills, two of the pilots were pulled out of the pool and back into the cabin to get the survival raft.  Not long after, they appeared in the doorway holding what appeared to be a stuffed body bag.  Sorry, I know it's a little morbid but I honestly have no other way of describing what it looked like.  They attached two of the strings dangling from the bag to loops at the base of the door and tossed it into the pool.  

There was a loud *CRACK* as the raft hit the water and began to violently morph.  The yellow bundle tossed and turned in the water as it rapidly inflated and after less than a minute assumed its final hexagonal shape as seen below (this isn't us).

Following the inscriptions on the side of the raft to the entrance, one by one we all climbed into the surprisingly large raft, assembled the canopy before being towed to the side of the pool where we were allowed to get out.  As one final task before lunch, we formed a single file line, exchanged our life vests for a seat cushion and jumped back into the pool to swim a circular lap using the seat cushion for flotation.  Surprisingly enough, the seat cushion provided plenty of buoyancy.  One-by-one, we climbed out of the pool and made our way to the cafeteria hoping this would be the last time we'd ever have to do anything like that.  

The Finish Line

You like to think that you know how you'll react to any situation thrown at you.  Years of training, thousands of hours of experience and thirty plus years of life have prepared you for every possible scenario, until...

Four weeks ago

It's a lazy Friday afternoon..  I had drained my battery texting back and forth with Nicole on her way home from a trip so, unusually, my cell phone is out of reach tethered to an outlet.  "I'm not going to get in time for dinner," she had previously written.  After reading the message, I sit back down on the couch and return my attention to the television while thinking of what to eat.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blue light flash across the room, telling me I have a notification.

Maybe she is going to make it home, I think to myself as I get up to check the notifications.  At the top of my screen, an email notification sits innocently.  Weird, I don't normally get just regular emails anymore.  Day after day, year after year, I have waited for this exact moment.  Weekly, I have searched my spam for the keywords "Delta."  Maybe, just maybe, the email filtered it.  Recently, however, I'd resigned to the fact that it was going to be quite awhile before I'd get "the call."  Today?  Today, July 22nd, 2016, in my inbox an unopened email from Delta Air Lines with the subject: "INVITATION TO INTERVIEW AT DELTA AIR LINES."

I can feel my heart stop.  Am I reading it correctly?  After a brief second, fully aware it still has a job to do, my heart begins to pound.  Trying to overcome whatever hormones my brain has injected into my blood, I set my phone down for a second and look to the ceiling for answers.  Is this for real, I think to myself trying to catch my breath.  I pick up my phone one last time.  The email is still there.  I wasn't dreaming.  HOLY SHIT!

Finally caught up to my heart, my mind begins to race.  I quickly glance through the email before taking a screenshot and sending it off to Nicole.  Widely known as one of the most difficult interviews in aviation, I'm not even remotely prepared.  I have books to read, brain games to practice, research to do and all the while, going on exhausting trips at my current airline.

Nicole responds back with elation.  "When are you going to do it!" she asks excitedly.  I have no clue. Our schedules aren't out yet for August and, worse, I have vacation at the end of that month, a non-refundable trip to Alaska.  Okay, I'm being hyperbolic.  An Alaskan Cruise isn't a bad thing, but considering the circumstances, there are more ideal times to be unavailable.  I have no idea when or even if I'd be able to interview anytime between now the end of September.  "Well, you only have two weeks to call them or the offer is rescinded," she replied.

"Wait, why do you think that?" I ask.

"It's in the email.  Didn't you read it?" Nicole retorts.

I guess I hadn't.  My mind is running spinning in circles trying to gain traction .  What about vacation?  What if I can't get time off?  What if the only time I can get off is too close to the interview?  How am I going to prepare?  What will I study?   Where do I begin?  What about my wedding?   What about my sister's wedding?  What about my vacation?  What if I can't get time off?

Leaping off the couch, I run over to my laptop sitting on the dining room table and bring it to life.  I've wasted enough time and need to focus this energy in a productive direction.  I begin my research by searching for everything I can about their interview process and what I find isn't encouraging.  Aside from the expected hour-long panel interview with typical "Tell me about a time" or "what would you do" questions, there is a rigorous 3-part computer test consisting of an in-depth job knowledge test, a cognitive exam and a preliminary personality test..  Passing the first day, you return before 6 am to take a 600 question personality inventory and talk to a psychologist.

I find a Facebook page for people preparing for their Delta interview.  When I start reading the comments, I have a sudden sinking feeling.  One man, a former USAF test pilot, says the job knowledge test, comprising primarily of engineering and aerodynamics questions, was the hardest written test he'd ever taken.  Another, described the cognitive test as  "a Lumosity test on steroids."  In one of the 13 tests, there is a man holding a flag in his hand.  He is either facing you, away from you or upside down facing you or away from you.  You have to, as quickly and accurately as possible, indicate by taping the screen whether it's in his left or right hand.  Another test has you use arrow keys to keep a ball centered in the bottom half of the screen while a number flashes rapidly in the top half.  You use the other hand to select by taping the screen which number was displayed before the number currently displayed.

In one comment, there are example questions asked on one of the tests.  I read the question, possible answers, and stare blankly at my screen.  I take my best guess then read below where the answer is listed.  Sighing, I realize I'm not even close.

After spending several hours a slave to my computer, Nicole, finally home from her trip, opens the door and runs up to me.  "OH MY GOSH!  I am so happy for you!  This is so exciting!"  She wraps her arms around me and gives me a hug.  I say nothing.  "What's wrong?  Aren't you excited?"

"I am," I admit before the dam of emotions I've built around me starts to crumble away.  "I just have so much to do and so much to study.  The only days I have available are August 10-11 and that's barely 3 weeks away.  When I call Monday to set up the interview, it'll be a shade over 2 weeks.  I don't know if I have enough time.  What about Julie's wedding in October?  They are hiring for classes starting in September.  What about our wedding?  November isn't that far way.  I can't push it off until then.  What if I fail miserably?  What if I don't get it..." I step back and look around the room as I start to to ramble off questions in rapid succession.

"Christopher.  Look at me.  Hey!  Look at me," she demands bringing my attention back to her.  "You're going to be fine.  You are all over the place right now.  I really think you should go to the gym and work out to get rid of some of that energy.  You can barely even focus on me.  You know what?  Just go now.  You'll feel better."

I sit back down at the computer to continue my research.  This is too important and every minute is going to count.  Many people are given two months notice before they interview.  I'll have two weeks.  She reaches over and closes the lid to my laptop.  "No.  Go to the gym.  Right now.  You'll feel better and you'll be able to focus.  You are going to get nothing done bouncing around the internet and this house for the next two hours."

I sigh.  Of course she's right.  Energy is coursing through my body like I'd just drank a gallon of Red Bull.  My stomach even feels like the motor-oil flavored "drink" was still sitting in there.  "Alright.  I'll go.  I'm not going to be able to concentrate though.  I doubt if I'll even be able to stay more than 10 minutes."

Four miles later, I walk off the treadmill covered head to toe in sweat.  After running the fastest four miles I'd run in as many years, I sit down in a chair to catch my breath.  Finally, 8 hours after receiving the initial email, I am calm...and tired.  Sweat dripping off my face on the floor, my heart rate slows to normal and clarity returns.  In that moment, I know exactly what I have to do.  Keys in hand, I walk out the door, confident and ready to take on the challenge that awaits.

****

The following two weeks were exhausting.  I spent countless hours reading text books, practicing brain games on a specially designed cognitive trainer.  Each day, I watched as feedback poured into the website with pilots who had been successful and unsuccessful.  It was almost impossible to see where the people who failed got it wrong and the ones who succeeded got it right.  

Several emails were exchanged between Delta and me.  I received a plane ticket from the airline scheduled to depart at 1 PM on the 9th of August, one day after my birthday.  Unfortunately, this interview was sandwiched between two trips for my current airline.  I would arrive from Denver just before midnight the night before.  It would be an easy day.  It was my birthday and I deserved it.  The next day, I would pack up my bags and head to Atlanta to change my life.

August 8th

Wichita is hot in August and the weather didn't wasn't going to take a break today.  I don't mind.  With a hotel downtown, it's a great place to go explore.  You can run along the river or you can stroll through historic downtown.  There's even a minor league baseball stadium on the other side of the river for lazy afternoons like these.  Today though, I'm not doing any of that.  I'm sitting in my air conditioned room pouring over notes and practice tests preparing for my interview.  

My phone buzzes again.  Another Facebook notification informs me that another friend has commented on my wall.  Normally, I like to comment on each post, a personalized "thank you" for taking time out of their day to wish me a Happy Birthday.  Today, I don't have time.  I need to focus on the finish line.  I can say thanks another day.  I'm sure they'll understand.

Even though I awoke at 6 AM to start a full day of studying, it feels like I've been only studying for a few hours when my alarm sounds at 4 PM, intentionally set as a reminder to get ready to go to the airport.  Departing in the late afternoon, I only have to fly to Denver, sit for a little over 2 hours, then ride in the back home to St Louis.  I couldn't have asked for an easier day.

The airplane arrives at the gate early and I make my way down the glass-walled jet bridge toward the airplane.  When I get close, I can see into the cockpit window and see the Captain on the phone.  Oh great, I think. Something is broken.  Hopefully it's a quick fix.  

Standing in the jet bridge, I wait patiently for the Captain to get out and tell me the problem.  He walks up to me and shakes his head.  "Sorry man.  The number 4 brake temperature indicator isn't working."

"It's fine," I say calmly.  "It's an easy fix.  Did they give you an ETA on when maintenance will be here?"  

He shrugs as he grabs his bag to head to the hotel. "They said it wouldn't be long." 

I sit down in the left seat and begin to prepare the airplane for its short trip to Denver. Once maintenance is complete, I want to be out of here as quickly as possible.  I have a plane to catch.  

After several exchanges with ATC, we finally get a route that we are comfortable with.  It's going to take a little longer than expected, but it avoids the thunderstorms building in eastern Colorado.  I look down at my watch.  Shit.  It's been almost 40 minutes since we got in the airplane and still no sign of the mechanic.  I pick up my phone and put a call in to headquarters.  "Yeah, this is Chris in Wichita.  Hey, what's the ETA on maintenance.  We were told it would be shortly."

"Oh, sorry Captain.  He said he was just finishing up another airplane and would be over in a few minutes.  In fact, he said 6 minutes to be exact," the supervisor back at headquarters assured.  

That's still not bad.  There isn't any investigating to do.  We know exactly what is wrong.  Once he shows up, I plan to board and get on the road.  In the back of my mind, a timer has started.  My two hour sit has turned into 1 hour and 20 minutes.  At least I had a few hours in Denver I think as I take a deep breath and head up to the gate to tell the gate agent the news. 

While I'm up there, I use the restroom and walk from one end of the small terminal to the other looking for the maintenance truck on the ramp.  Every other flight has left and the gates are empty.  I make my way back to our gate and talk for a few minutes to concerned passengers before heading back down to my airplane.  Maintenance still hasn't showed up.  It's now been 20 minutes since the last phone call and over an hour from when the plane first landed. I'm beginning to lose my patience.  "Hey man, is everything alright," my First Officer asks as stare out the window of my normally wonderful office view.    

Sitting back in my seat, I sigh and look at the ceiling.  "There isn't a single plane out there.  I don't know where this guy is but he definitely isn't working on any airplanes here.  The last flight left 30 minutes ago.  I feel like someone is lying to us."  I pick up my phone again and dial the headquarters in St Louis.  I swallow my frustration and speak calmly, "Hey Randy, it's Chris in Wichita again.  Yeah, six minutes has gone by and then another 15 and we still don't have a mechanic."  Oops, I let a little frustration bubble to the surface.

"Really?  He should have been there by now.  Let me give him a call.  Just stay on the line," Randy says as he sends me to listen to elevator music.  After a brief pause, he returns  "Hey Captain, yeah, he said he's on his way now."  Jesus Christ my heavily exaggerated rolling eyes yell at the ceiling.

"Alright, well...alright."  I hang up the phone.  Across the ramp, I see a van that looks like it was stolen from the Libyans from Back to the Future appear from behind a hangar.  Shortly after, it comes rolling up the airplane.  I hop out of my seat and meet the mechanic at the door to the ramp.  "Hey, so how long do you think this is going to take?"  

"It should take 5, maybe 10 minutes max," the clean-cut man in overalls says in an honest tone.  Finally we are getting somewhere.  We can board right away and will be just finishing up by the time he finishes the paperwork.

I nearly run up to the gate and inform the gate agent to board.  When I return to the flight deck, I continue where we left off almost 30 minutes prior.  While the passengers board, the flight attendant, first officer and I joke while I finalizing the programming of the flight computer.  

Almost a half an hour later, the last passenger walks on the airplane and the gate agent asks to close up the airplane.   Looking at my watch, I pinch the bridge of my nose.  "We are just waiting on him to finish up the brake indicator," I say while writing down math equations on my paperwork trying to figure out how long I'll have in Denver before my flight leaves.  Forty minutes.  The magic number is 40.

"You mean the guy who has been sitting in his truck the whole time?" the gate agent asks.  

Slowly, I turn my head to look at the woman standing behind me.  "What do you mean the whole time?" 

"He's been sitting in that van the whole time.  Hasn't moved." The gate agent says shrugging her shoulders. 

Like a tea kettle, I can feel my face turning red.  Every emotion that I've been suppressing has started to bubble to the surface.  My normal cool and calm demeanor is being overtaken by visible frustration. "You've got to be shitting me." I say more loudly than I intended as I climb out of my seat and make my way to the ramp.  As I descend the stairs, I can see the man get out of the van and walk toward the landing gear.  Approaching him, I'm glad I have to yell to be heard over the sound of the air conditioning units installed in the belly of the aircraft.  I was going to have a hard time not raising my voice and this gives me an excuse.

"Hey!  What's going on out here!" I yell over the loud screeching sound toward the man crouched under the wing. 

"Oh hey!  Yeah!  I'm almost done!  Your maintenance control sent me on a wild goose chase!" he yells back barely audible.  I forgot to bring ear plugs and I struggle to communicate with my fingers shoved deep into my ear canal.  

"Alright!  How much longer!"  I ask yellingly.  He has given up on trying to communicate with words and mouths 5 minutes while holding up his open hand.  I get it.  

I walk back up to the jet bridge and, frustrated yet relieved, return to my seat.  As I walk past the gate agent, I tell her what was said and return to the flight deck to re-triple check my work as a way to take my mind off the situation at hand.  Shortly after, she peeks her head back through the door.  "Hey Captain.  So, he said five minutes?  Then why did he just unscrew two panels and take them off the airplane?" 

I leap out of my seat, walk into the jet bridge and see a piece of the airplane laying on the ramp.  Oh no.  Raising my arm up, I glance at my watch.  I do the math in my head for the 50th time today: five minutes to taxi plus an hour and twenty because of the reroute.  Add 10 minutes to taxi in.  That gives me...30 minutes.  Now I begin to feel anxious that I'm going to miss the flight.

I look at my phone to see if there are any other flights out of Denver that night.  There aren't.  I shake my head and walk back to the window.  He's still messing with something.  I need to vent.  I need to talk to someone.  Walking toward the top of the jet bridge well out of ear shot, I pick up my phone and call Nicole who has been kept abreast of the situation through the wonder of text messaging.

"Hey Chris, how you feeling?" she asks knowing that I'm starting to get upset.

"I don't know.  This has taken almost 2 hours.  TWO F***ING HOURS!  This should have been a quick fix and we should landing in Denver by now.  I'm pissed.  The whole reason I chose this trip was so that very little could do wrong and I'd be able to catch that flight tomorrow.  With the Delta computer crash, there is no way they'll re-book me on another flight, if there even is another flight available tomorrow.  They canceled hundreds today already!  If I miss this opportunity, it might be months before I get another chance.  They told me when I booked the 10th that it was the last slot and people are saying they've had to wait up to three months to get scheduled.  Those that call to reschedule are told they'll have to wait to be contacted again by Delta.  I was lucky!" I rant on, but I feel better.  There is nothing I can do.  Just concentrate on getting to Denver.

I take a deep breath and walk back to the airplane.  Before I step through the door again, I can see the mechanic has reinstalled the panels and is sitting in his van.  Once more I look at my watch.  The magic number is now 15 minutes.  After a few minutes, he walks up, hands me the paperwork and we finally push back from the gate.  Before heading out to the runway, I steal one more peek at my watch.  Five minutes.

****

The wheels rumble slightly and the wings rock gently as we turn off the taxiway and onto the ramp in Denver.  Much of the weather had dissipated and we had received a few shortcuts but in the end it didn't help.  As I pull around the corner to our gate, I see a plane taxi away from the gate the St Louis flight was supposed to be parked.  There it goes.  The flight attendant had my bag waiting for me so I could run out of the airplane when we landed.  Hopefully, they changed gates and are delayed.  

I hustle into the terminal, up to one of the departure monitors and scan through the various cities.  P-Q-R-S-San Diego-San Francisco-Tulsa. Staring at the screen where St Louis should be, my heart sinks into my stomach.  I feel sick.  The last flight is gone.  I missed it.

While sulking out of the terminal, I arrange with crew scheduling to get a hotel in Denver and be scheduled to return the next day.  I know what time the flight will depart from looking earlier but I hold onto some hope that maybe I am wrong.  "Okay, we have you scheduled for the 8 AM flight tomorrow arriving in St Louis at 11:30 AM," the scheduler on the other end informed me.  I'm supposed to check-in at the ticket counter at that same time.  Considering that it takes a hour just to drive home, not including the time to change and get what I need for the interview, it is now officially impossible to make the interview.

After exiting security, I sit at a table in the tent-shaped main terminal of Denver International.  I prop my head up with my arm as I think of ways to tell Delta in the morning, hoping they won't think I'm lying about the trip.  I busted my tail to get ready for the interview and I've been defeated by an expensive thermometer.  The screen of my phone lights up with the smiling photo of my future wife.  I pause for a minute deciding whether to answer.  I really don't want to talk to anyone but she has been there for me all day.  I have to answer.  "Did you make it?" she asks enthusiastically.

"No. Not even close.  I'm pretty sure I watched my flight taxi to the runway and take off.  This could be the worst birthday I've ever had and that's saying a lot because my 19th was the day after basic training.  I think I'm just going to cancel the interview tomorrow.  There's no way I can make it." 

"Christopher, no!  This is your dream!  You snap out of it," Nicole scolds me but ever optimistic continues. "We are going to get you there.  Look, there is a Southwest flight that leaves at 6:30AM and gets in at 9.  There's one seat left.  I'll just buy you a ticket."

"Buy a ticket?  No way.  I'll jump seat if I have to.  Even that won't help, I don't have my suit or paperwork or really any clean clothes left in my suitcase.  If there is a delay at all or any traffic, I'll never make it back in time and we'll have wasted all that money" I countered.  

"It's too late.  I'm buying the ticket.  That's worth it to guarantee you get home and so won't have to worry.  What do you need?  I'll pack it up and tell my boss I need to go to the airport in the morning.  We will swap bags and you can change in the cell phone lot.  I'll just cancel all my morning meetings.  This is too important.  We can do this!" she replies enthusiastically.  

If everything works exactly as planned, this may work.  After 5 hours of slowly watching this opportunity slip between my fingers, there was yet another glimmer of hope.  "Yeah.  Alright.  Let's do this.  Do you have a piece of paper?  Here is everything I'm going to need...."

****

The Director of Pilot Recruiting for Delta Air Lines walked into the room. The 14 of us felt his presence and knew what was about to happen. We'd all been through a rigorous interview full of probing questions about our past and future and a 2-and-a-half hour intensive computer test.  We had all finished the rigorous examination shortly before but when we saw him again not more than 30 minutes after, we knew what time it was.  

One by one, we turned our heads and began to circle around the man in his 60s.  Not minutes earlier, the room was filled with the laughter of men who, 8 hours earlier when we first walked in, were mostly complete strangers.  Now, everyone was focused on him.  No one spoke, not even the Director.

After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, he looked around to verify he had our complete attention and spoke.  "I need to see Brian and Rich."  Two heads among the 14 of us drooped knowingly.  We'd all read about it.  They were going to pull people into side offices to give them the bad news.  I braced hoping my name wasn't next on the list.  "I want everyone to hear this.  Both of these gentlemen have been here before.  Both of them have failed the interview.  Today, their hard work has paid off.  They were not discouraged.  I want to be the first congratulate and welcome them to the Delta family."   

We all applaud.  This truly is great news, but why is he telling us this?  Is this a motivational speech for those of us who didn't make the cut?  I feel sweat dripping down my back.  I spent much of the morning second guessing my answers in the panel interview.  I had given it my all but was convinced that I fell short on one of the computer tests.  As the applause stopped, the uncomfortable silence returned.  You should have practiced the mental math portion more, but it's okay, there's always next time. I can come back in 6 months and try it again.  Next time, I'll be ready...

"Now, you may have noticed that I've pulled everyone, the entire recruiting department, out of their offices to be here for this."  A lump began to form in my throat.  I knew what was about to happen.  "It's very rare we get to do this, but I'd like to officially welcome every single one of you to Delta Air Lines!"

****

I started this blog 5 years ago to document my journey as I chased my dream of being a pilot.  The end goal, although it was never stated directly, was to end up at Delta Air Lines where I would spend my career.  On August 10th, 2016, what started as a dream following my first flight lesson 18 years before, has finally come to true.  

Oddly enough, exactly 5 years earlier on August 10th, I first visited the flight school that started it all.  On September 12th that same year, I started class.  Two years later, on September 9th, I started at Trans States Airlines as an airline pilot.  Now, I can officially say that on September 12th 2016, exactly 5 years after starting flight school, my dream has come true.  I will walk into the World Headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia, a Delta Air Lines Pilot.

An Engagement Story

When the alarm sounded at 4:00am on Friday, February 26th, the day before Nicole's Birthday, I had only gotten an hour of sleep. The night previous, we had been out later than planned cashing-in on a Valentine's Day gift from Nicole, a pasta cooking class. Planned to be finished by 10pm, it wasn't until after midnight that my head finally hit the pillow. Six months of planning would culminated on this day, the day we would get engaged.

August 27th, 2015

I don't know whose idea it was to go to the Urban Chestnut Brewing Company, the location of our first date, but nevertheless, we ended up there almost exactly one year from the first time we exchanged emails. Sitting outside in the beer garden, we enjoyed the warm late summer sun, watching it set as we were serenaded by the Bavarian themed two-piece band. We laughed and reflected on the last year of our relationship.

"That purse is so nice," I jokingly mused.

"Oh, you mean my 'birthday present,'" Nicole quipped back. After 6 months of dating, I somehow managed to forget to get her a present. It wasn't until months later that, in a panic while out shopping, I remembered that I had forgotten to give her a gift. I insisted on buying the expensive Vera wallet and begged for her forgiveness. She laughed but never let me live it down, especially after throwing me my first ever surprise birthday party.

As we joked and flirted, it was in that moment that I realized how I would propose. A gift, once a month on the 27th (or as close as I could get to it) until the big surprise on her birthday weekend. The plan was simple as long as she did exactly what she did the year before by visiting her friends for a beer festival in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The plan: I would "forget" to get her a present before she left for Michigan but then fly up without her knowing and surprise her...and it would start with me "forgetting" our anniversary the next month.

For the next 6 months, I dropped little surprises and gifts. The first was a trip to Flagstaff. Having to work on our anniversary, I flew out there for the evening so she wouldn't have to spend it alone. I apologized emphatically as I explained I had forgotten her anniversary gift at home. "It's okay," she said looking up at me with big puppy dog eyes, "I'm used to it." I faked being sad knowing that it was the beginning of our engagement.

I would go on to surprise her with her first ever flight in a small plane and surprised her further when she found out we were actually flying to meet her parents, whom she hadn't seen in months, in Indiana for dinner. The following month, I purchased magnetic spice holders that she could hang on the wall to solve the spice cabinet over-crowding situation developing in the kitchen. In December, as part of her Christmas gifts, I purchased a Kindle PaperWhite for her and with it a $25 Amazon gift card to purchase books for her big birthday surprise.  Her final small pre-birthday gift, given on January 27th, was her being officially listed with me as a companion to fly for free on United.

Officially, the engagement wouldn't be her birthday present.  I had arranged with her boss months before through a coworker to get her vacation the week after her birthday with the coworker covering any meetings she unknowingly scheduled.  Before running out the door, I grabbed Nicole's passport, hoping she wouldn't randomly decide she needed it.  Her birthday present?  A trip, anywhere in the world she wanted to go.  We both had off until the next Sunday and the world was our playground.  She would eventually choose London and even get the luxury of riding home in First Class.  

February 26th, 2016

As I drove to the airport to catch the 5:30 flight to Detroit, 3 hours before her flight would leave, I was a nervous wreck. Nicole believed I was headed there to begin a trip but instead I was there to beat her to Detroit. I had to get on this flight or 6 months of planning was ruined. When I arrived at the gate, the flight was oversold and there was another pilot listed for the jumpseat. To the couple who overslept, thank you. After several calls for them to board, the gate agent printed me a pass and pushed me through the door as she closed it behind her. And just like that, the plan was officially set in motion.

Three hours later, I watched as Nicole's plane pulled up to the gate in Detroit. I watched from behind a sign at the gate as she left the airplane and walked through the terminal. She had 4 hours, or so she thought, to await a friend to get off work to pick her up. "What are you going to do," I texted her.

"I'm going to explore the airport until I get hungry then maybe have lunch," she replied. To show what had been happening for the last half year, I made a video and at the end, I would be standing there, ring in hand. I needed her to be seated, not walking around.

"Well, I made you a video to make up for missing your birthday and need you to find a seat. My flight leaves soon." I was getting worried that this might not work.

"Okay, I found an empty gate," she sent to my phone. My heart jumped. It was time. I ran through the airport stopping before each gate to see if it was empty. After several minutes of running, stopping and creeping around corners, I broke through a crowd boarding and peeked around the corner to see a beautiful girl facing away from me looking out the window. Then I hit send.

As she watched, I could see her begin to cry. Approaching a business man at the gate I whispered, "Excuse me sir. I'm about to propose to that girl over there. Would you mind taking a few pictures?" After he agreed, I walked up to a few feet behind her and waited patiently for the 4 minute video of pictures and music from her favorite band to end.

As she read the text on the last slide, "Look Around," she stood up and turned right to me. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she ran toward me yelling, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" After a long embrace, she looked into my now tear filled eyes.

"I have one more surprise for you," I said pulling away. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the ring. Any speech I had memorized was long forgotten. In the middle of gate D12 at Detroit International Airport I got down on one knee, raised the ring into the air and tearfully asked, "Nicole Castrale, will you marry me?

Enjoy the video she saw before turning around and seeing me with some pictures from the engagement at the end: Engagement Video

When Weather Surprises You

It's a chilly February morning in Toronto, Canada.  The crew and I are dropped off at the airport just after 4:30 in the morning at the US Departures area of Canada's busiest airport.  Before I went to bed, I took a peek at the most recent forecast in NYC.  I knew I wouldn't have a lot of time in the morning to look it over since the shuttle left shortly after 4:00.

On the shuttle ride over, no one speaks.  It's too early.  The hotel didn't have coffee out and I never dare to use the coffee makers in the room.  YouTube has ruined that convenience for me.  Usually the passenger area of the van is lit with the glow of cell phones as passengers and pilots alike browse Facebook to catch up on the goings on from previous night.  Not in Canada.  No one wants to spend the money on an international data plan.  So instead, we resort to staring out the window like it's 1999.

Once dropped off, we clear US Customs before going through security.  On this particular day, both are packed full of passengers.  "If security is an indication," I say to the flight attendant, "it looks like our flight will be full."  She grunts.  New York's JFK Airport is only an hour flight.  With limited drink and food options in the US Pre-Clearance partitioned area of the airport, most of her passengers will want a beverage and she will struggle to complete her service before we begin descending.

The First Officer and I go about completing our preflight duties.  Once all the systems are checked and aircraft maintenance status verified, I grab the 30 page dispatch release.  It's our permission slip to depart to NYC and it contains a lot of information like weather, navigational system outages and aircraft performance.  After a quick perusal, I begin reading it aloud to the First Officer.  "Okay, so this is flight 4101 Toronto to JFK on February 6th, 2016 in aircraft 611.  Looks like they filed us at Flight Level 300 and 1 hour enroute.  Looks like at our time of arrival, they are calling for 800 foot ceilings and visibility of 1 mile.  Not great but I've seen worse.  Right now, uh, it looks like they are reporting 2000 feet and 3 miles.  That's right on the forecast.  We have an alternate of Allentown and the weather there is beautiful all day.  It's a good alternate.  It'll be my leg this morning and you can fly us to Greensboro.  Any questions?"

The First Officer shakes his head.  I put the paperwork away, grab my cup of coffee and sip on it as I pull my phone out to connect to the airport WiFi.  I check my radar app to see if there is anything between us and New York.  It's February and while the chances are extremely low, it's still good to check.  As expected, nothing.  The stream of passengers coming from the terminal has dwindled and before I put my phone away for the flight, I check the weather in JFK one more time.  The airport is reporting 1500 foot ceilings now but that's nothing unexpected.

Toronto is quiet this morning as we taxi to the runway and depart to the southeast.  It's quiet in the cockpit as well.  I sip coffee and eat a granola bar for breakfast.  Once at cruise, it's time to break the silence.  "Man, no matter how many times you do it, that 3:30 wake up never gets easier."

"Especially since it's actually 2:30 at home," the first officer replies.  It's true.  Thankfully we have a short day today.  "Did you catch the Blues score?"

"Nah, I didn't have time to check..." I pause reaching for the volume knob of my backup radio. "...uh, time to check this..." I have a hard time completing a thought as I listen to the radio chatter.  It's quiet on the Center frequency but the backup frequency, the one where airlines can contact emergency services and their airline headquarters is busy.  "Sounds like Jet Blue is holding over Sea Isle?  That's the south arrival into JFK."

I pause to think for a minute.  The First Officer digs out his charts and studies them for a moment.  "Yea.  Sea Isle is the south arrival.  They could be going to Boston.  That's one of their big hubs.  I think I saw something last night that Boston was going to have snow this morning," the first officer surmises.

"Alright.  Send a message to dispatch.  Ask if they see any holding ahead.  I'll request a slower speed to save gas," I reply before talking over the radio. "Cleveland Center, Waterski 4101 requesting speed our discretion"

CLE CENTER: Waterski 4101, speed your discretion.

I slowly bring the power back so as to not alarm the passengers.  A sudden reduction of power to a nervous passenger could stir up some anxiety.  Most times, we do not fly at the most efficient airspeed and power setting.  We don't fly as fast as possible, but if we did fly at the most fuel efficient cruising power, it would take significantly longer to get places.  In this case, if airplanes are holding ahead, there is no rush to get there to burn fuel flying circles in the sky.

The First Officer, John, pulls up the weather for JFK on our computer.  "Jesus.  Does that say 1/8 mile visibility?"

I glance down at the computer and chuckle.  "Sure as shit does.  Well good morning to you too, JFK.  That changes the plan a little."  The reply to our inquiry to our headquarters returns.

DISPATCH: Yes.  Weather has dropped at JFK but RVR still better than 3000 feet.

RVR is the Runway Visual Range measured in feet.  Most large airports take measurements at 3 different locations when the weather is bad.  They use tower visibility, field visibility in miles and each landing and departing runway uses sensors placed in 3 locations to get visibility in feet.  On a day like today, tower visibility will be worthless since it is most likely in the clouds.  Most approaches require a half mile of field visibility to land or 1800 feet RVR for the landing runway. Yes, I am aware that 1/2 mile and 1800 RVR are not the same number.  That's a topic for another day.
"Well, that's some good news.  We are good down to 1800 RVR.  It'll be close, but we should still be able to get in, assuming of course we don't get stuck in a never-ending hold."  Almost as if they had been listening to our conversation, air traffic control calls us.

CLE CENTER: Waterski 4101, contact New York Center and expect holding ahead at YODAA.

John acknowledges the frequency change and copies the holding information with New York Center.  I dig through my manuals to verify the "Long Range Cruise" power setting and speed.  We are going to be really slow but we are trying to buy time and fuel.  I look over at John and start preparing to hold.  "Okay, the FMS is set up for the hold.  We are back to long range cruise.  Call the flight attendant and let her know what's going on then make an announcement to the folks.  Let them know we are going to be holding due to weather in JFK and will update them as we get more information.  I'm going to start calculating our bug-out fuel.  Send a message to dispatch and tell them we are holding over YODAA and fuel of 5.5.  Once you're done, I'll have you calculate the bug out and we'll compare numbers."

The bug out fuel is essentially the fuel on the airplane where we are no longer legal to continue to the destination as planned.  On a weather day like today, we are required to have enough fuel to fly to our destination, then fly to our alternate and then fly after that for 45 minutes.  When you hear a pilot talking about not having enough gas, it's never about running out completely.  It's always about not having the legal quantity to continue.  Don't worry.

For those who are really interested, this is how the calculation works.  If you aren't, skip to the next paragraph.  We first have to figure out how much fuel we will burn between YODAA at the airport.  That information is found in that dispatch release we received before we left Toronto.  Let's assume that's 1000 lbs.  We then have to add the fuel required to fly to our alternate of Allentown.  That's 850 lbs.  Finally, we add on the 1800 lbs of reserve fuel(that extra 45 minutes from earlier).  That's 3650 lbs.  Sometimes, depending on the weather, I'll throw on 200 lbs (the amount to shoot an extra approach) for the wife and kids.  So, when we reach 3850 lbs, in the hold, we have to let ATC know that we need to go to our alternate.  Simple!

"Okay, I have 3850 lbs.  What did you get?"  I ask the First Officer.  He agrees.  Just then, ATC comes over the radio.

NY CENTER:  Waterski 4101, cancel holding instructions.  Proceed direct Kingston, descend and maintain FL180 and give me your best forward speed and best rate down.  You are number 1 for the field.  Contact New York Approach now.

"Well, that changes everything.  Let's do this!" I exclaim as I program the FMS for the new plan.  We get vectored around for the approach.  I do the math one more time, this time taking out the time to fly to our destination since we are there.  "Okay,  you keep an eye on the gas.  When it reaches 2900, let me know and we'll proceed directly to Allentown," I tell the First Officer.

NY Approach: Waterski 4101, Runway 31 Left RVR 2000, 2000, 3000, you are 5 miles from the final approach fix, cleared ILS 31 Left.  Contact JFK Tower.

The First Officer acknowledges and I couple the autopilot to follow the instrument landing system.  It captures the glide slope and I pull the power back to maintain our final approach airspeed of 131 knots.  "1000 feet above," he announces indicating that we are only 1000 feet above the airport.

I look over at the chart to make sure I have correctly memorized the missed approach procedure.  Since Manhattan is only 5 miles from the end of runway 31L, we have to do a climbing left turn away from the city in the opposite direction of the approach.  Not complicated, but important.

The ILS will get us to 200 feet above and about a half a mile from the start of the runway.  The First Officer calls out "200 above."  This indicates that we are 400 feet above the airport and that he's now no longer looking at the instruments but looking outside for any indication of the airport.  The next thing I expect to hear from him is that he has the airport or runway lead-in lights in sight.  At 300 feet and 2/3 of a mile from the airport, I call out "100 above."  We only have a few seconds left before we have to go around.  I peak out my window.  At this point we should at least be able to see the ground straight down.  Through the breaks in the clouds, I can see water from the bay below.  This is going to be close if we get in at all, I think to myself preparing to initiate the Go Around.

As we reach 200 feet above the airport, I peak outside and see nothing but white.  "Go around," I announce as i disengage the autopilot, put the power all the way forward until it can't go any further, and pull the nose up to initiate a climb.  The engines spool up and I feel the aircraft pushing me into the back of my seat. "Set max thrust, flaps 9," I command as we briskly accelerate to 200 knots and rocket back into the sky banking the airplane away from Manhattan and its 2000 foot tall buildings.  As we start to climb away from the ground, the first officer announces that we are, in fact climbing by saying "Positive rate", and I command him to raise the gear.  All of this happen within seconds of initiating the go-around.

Once the airplane is configured back for climb and cruise, evaluate our fuel situation and weather.  "Okay, we have 3200 lbs of gas.  That gives us 300 lbs to shoot another approach which technically we can do.  Did you see anything at all outside?" I ask John.

"No man.  Nothing.  I don't even think we started getting ground contact until we were within 100 feet," he replies.

"Alright, tell that to approach.  Ask if 31R is any better," I tell him.  He parrots back when he told me and they respond quickly.

NY Approach:  Negative Waterski.  Runway 31R RVR is 1600, 2000, 2000.  Runway 31L RVR is 1800, 1800, 2000.  Say intentions.

The ball is back in our court.  I start to think aloud.  They are vectoring us back toward the approach but I only have a minute before we have to commit or divert.  "Okay, so, we have 250 lbs left.  Weather is continuing to deteriorate.  We are legal for the approach but if we didn't see it at 2000 and 3000 RVR, I doubt we are going to see it this time."  I pause.  "No.  We aren't going to do this.  Tell them we want to divert to Allentown."

Air Traffic Control continues to climb us up and away from NYC as we begin our short trip to Allentown.  A few minutes after requesting the diversion, they give us our route to Allentown.  Once the flight computer is programmed for the new route I tell John what to do next.  This is, after all, his first ever diversion.  "Okay, tell the flight attendant and I'll send a message to dispatch."

"What do we tell the passengers?" He asks.

"That's a low priority right now.  Once we are set up for Allentown, if we have time, we will let them know what's going on."  It takes about 10 minutes to find the approach plates, get the weather, calculate the landing data and brief the approach.  As we level off and start cruising to Allentown, it's only then that I realize that my back is covered in sweat.  So much for being cold, I think to myself.  "Okay, it looks to be visual conditions in Allentown.  Are you all set up for the approach?" I ask and he acknowledges.  "Alright, after I brief the approach, get on the PA and tell them that due to weather in NY, we are having to divert to Allentown."

It takes about 15 minutes for us to land in Allentown.  We park at a gate and open the jet bridge.  A gate agent pops her head in the door looking stressed. "We've got 4 more flights inbound, two from LGA and 2 from JFK.  If you need us, come up to the gate," she says as she runs back out to the ramp.

That's not a big deal, I think.  It's going to take a little time for our dispatch to make us a new release and tell operations the fuel we need.  I pull out my cell phone and call our company's headquarters to figure out what to do.  "Hey, what's the plan for us?  The forecast was wrong."

"Well, we are going to put you on hold for another hour.  There's nothing we can do with the weather that low.  They are reporting 800 RVR right now in JFK," dispatch tells me.

"Alright, can you call Customs and Border Patrol and let them know we didn't make JFK and ask if we can let them get off in Allentown?"  I inquire.  Dispatch acknowledges and says they'll call me back when they get the approval.

The sun is up in Allentown as 5 other airplanes join us at the small airport not more than a few hours from NYC.  We spent 4 hours there that morning before the weather eventually cleared up at JFK.  Once inside the terminal, several passengers threatened a police officer and were nearly arrested.  It was chaos.  Understandably, they were upset.  What they didn't know, however, was that most of our NYC operation was grounded for the morning.  Airplanes were stranded all over the northeast in places like Syracuse, Allentown, Harrisburg and Philadelphia.

We don't want to divert.  We don't want passengers to miss their flights or get home late.  We feel bad but under no circumstance will we put lives in danger to do so.  I'm sorry that you were meeting an Ambassador or had a meeting with a client.  Weather happens and sometimes it surprises even the best weather guessers.  All you can do is roll with it.  So please, sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight.