The First of Many Flights

It's time.

After a two week wait, I decided to make the trip back home to be with my family on Thanksgiving.  As I was sitting in the airport waiting for my sister to pick me up, I checked my schedule.  What had once been completely blank now displayed two cryptic numbers: S3192A and S3221A.  Both of them were underlined in blue indicating that I could explore those tidbits further.  After some investigation and some anticipation, I learned that I had finally been scheduled for my first two trips following the Thanksgiving holiday.  I'd have to commute back to St Louis Saturday morning to catch my 8:00 am flight on Sunday.  This blog is the story of that trip.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

I would like to say that I awoke with a start.  Set for 6:00am, my alarm sounded as I laid in my hotel bed staring at the ceiling.  I'd gotten some sleep the night before but with the butterflies wreaking havoc in my abdomen, there was no way I'd gotten a "full night's rest."  After showering, I finished packing my overnight bag, put ice in my cooler, and put my iPad in my flight kit.  All stacked and hooked together, I toted the bags out of my room and to my car where I drove in silence to the airport.  Adrenaline was pulsing through my veins constantly making me feel like vomiting.  My mind, not to be outdone by the pit in my stomach, was racing.  I parked my car in the remote parking lot, boarded the employee van and sat staring at my phone waiting for someone to distract me.  Apparently no one was interested in it this morning.  I posted a quick comment on my Facebook and put my phone on airplane mode as I walked through the terminal.

I approached a less than friendly gate agent who snapped at me trying to find out what I wanted.  "This is, uh, my first flight and I need to go to the airplane."  Disinterested, she curtly barked the door code at me and went about typing.  I walked to the door, typed the code in, and began to walk through the jetway to the airplane.

It was a brisk morning in St Louis and as I walked through the door, the cold air caught me off guard as much as the gate agent did.  The nine year old child in me continued to plead with me not to keep walking into the abyss.  It was cold and we would be lost forever!  Putting him out of my mind, I continued on.  I passed through the door to the airplane where the flight attendant was and instead of smiling from her position between me and the cockpit as she would a passenger, she opened a door to the closet and showed me where to put my bags.  "Would you like some water, hun? "  The woman, in her late 40s, must've sensed and most likely seen the anxiety pasted across my face.

The Captain came up from behind me and, as cold as the morning air, told me what to do.  "I'm going to do the walk-around.  You get set up and complete your receiving flow.  You've got 5 minutes so don't take all day."  Surely he knows this is my first day, right? Everyone sure is in a great mood this morning.

What seemed like seconds later, he was back and sitting down.  I had completed most of my checks by the time he walked in.  "The training department does nothing to prepare you for flying the line.  So, I'm going to do most of the flying today and the radios.  You just try to keep up."  I wanted to assure him that I was capable but recalled a lovely lesson from my mom that actions do speak louder than words.  Clearly he'd had bad experiences before with new hires so I decided to show him I was competent.

A few seconds passed and a man in a neon vest handed the Captain a piece of paper.  I assumed this was the cargo load sheet.  Behind him was the flight attendant and she handed him the passenger distribution.  "I'm ready when you are" she told him and he instructed her to close the doors.  My heart and mind were racing at a break neck pace.  I knew what was going on but this all seemed so foreign to me.  I was capable of operating the airplane but none of this was familiar.

I heard the bell of the jetway ringing as it backed away from the door and looked back for a moment to see what was going on.  The flight attendant had been standing in the cockpit doorway the entire time but now I had a clear view to the back of the airplane....and it was full.  No more than 10 feet away sat a boy in his mid-teens and behind him I assumed was his younger sister.  Both of them looked were looking at me and as my gaze met theirs, they diverted their attention to their hands in their laps.  As I followed the boy's eyes, I saw him picking at his fingernails.

It was at that moment that it hit me.  The boy was nervous.  The boy?  Who was he and where was he going?  It only took three seconds looking at a stranger to realize that their families all had 100% unflinching confidence he would return home safely after the Thanksgiving trip to St Louis.  There were 48 other people on the airplane and I had never met any of them. I didn't know any of their stories and none of them knew mine.  They all had blind faith in me and the Captain.  This was real and there was no room for error.  It was then that the flight attendant closed the door and I reached up and locked it before turning back around.  I put on my headset and experienced silence for the first time since getting out of my car.  If only I had a picture of what my face must've looked like.  I can only imagine the blood had left it long before and was showing the pasty whiteness tell that my feelings had gone from anxiety to fear.  At that moment, I wanted to admit I didn't know what I was doing.  Having ignored the fear of my 9 year old memory, my 12 year old self now was screaming in panic from the back of my parents' van that I wasn't good enough.  After a few deep breaths, I suppressed my thoughts and feelings and focused on the task at hand.  I didn't have time to debate myself.  I had a job to do.

Looking down over the nose, I saw the man on the tug ready to push us away from the terminal.   After a quick exchange between him and the Captain, the plane lurched backward and the man told us that we were cleared to start our engines.  "Start number 2," the Captain, now calm and cool, instructed me. I reached up to the switch and began the start sequence.  All of the air in the airplane turned off and was diverted to the right engine.  Even with the door closed and a headset on, I could hear the low mechanical groan from the back of the airplane as the large jet engine began to spool up.  I have heard this sound hundreds of times before but this time, it was me who had commanded it.

The man on the tug disconnected from our airplane and retreated to the terminal leaving us all alone.  The Captain started the left engine and began to finally explain why he had been the way he was.  "The most important thing for us to do is leave on time.  That's why I had been pushing you.  You'd be surprised how many new hires take 40 minutes to do their initial flows.  You did fine.  Now, there is no need to rush.  We'll just take our time." As we lumbered out to the runway, he told me to go ahead and take over the radios.  I repeated our take-off clearance as we took the runway and watched as he pushed the thrust levers fully forward.  The engines roared to life and the airplane began racing toward the runway.  "Rotate" I called-out as we passed 140 mph.  The nose of the airplane lifted off the runway and suddenly we were airborne.  I reached up, lifted the landing gear and listen as it locked in place in the belly of the airplane.  Merely seconds later we were racing through the sky at 250 mph as we climbed in the direction of Chicago.

****

After a two-hour layover in Chicago, we headed out to Burlington, Vermont.  The landing and approach to Chicago had been very uneventful as the Captain pointed out some tips and pointers of how to fly the line.  As we waited for our plane to arrive from wherever it was coming from, I took some time to check my phone.  I had a few comments on the Facebook post from earlier in the day and reading them made me smile for the first time in almost 24 hours.  James Schannep, one of my best friends and author of a brand new Murder Mystery called MURDERED (yes, it's a shameless plug but it's a REALLY good book) told me that I should just tell everyone on the plane that it was my first time and how nervous I was because it would surely make everyone feel better.  Another one of my best friends, Richard, suggested that I tell the passengers that I used to fly nukes.  I felt like an idiot laughing almost too hard at the jokes on my page.

After everyone had deplaned in Vermont, I began my third iteration of the preflight panic of trying to get the airplane off the ground on time.  As I read through a checklist while we were pushing back from the gate, I indicated the autopilot was connected to the Captain's instruments.  "Wait, nah.  You're flying this leg."  He reconfigured the autopilot as I continued to read the checklist.  The first two legs were nice because pushing buttons on command, talking on the radios and reading checklists was easy and low-threat.  Now, it was MY turn.  

As we took the runway, I pushed the thrust levers all the way forward and the airplane began the now-familiar run.  The Captain called-out the rotate command and I pulled back on the yoke, lifting the nose of the ground.  It felt similar to the sim in ways but so foreign in others.  Perhaps it was because there were people on board.  I anticipated feeling like I was falling behind or on the verge of being out of control but, to my surprise, it felt natural.  I followed the twisting and turning course as I flew the airplane all the way to 10,000 feet before turning on the autopilot.  That was the easy part through.  The landing, now that is where most of my concern was placed.  

As we approached the runway in Chicago, I adjusted my seatbelt and sat up a little taller.  "Runway in sight" the Captain told me.  "Landing" I replied.  I called for the flaps to be extended and then the gear made a loud clunk as it locked in place. Racing toward the runway at well over 150 mph, the computer told me that we were 200 feet above the ground.  I slowly reduced the power.  At 100 feet, I began to level off and as the Captain called out 20 feet above the runway, I chopped the power to idle and held the wheels off the ground along with my breath.  I had the initial reaction to brace but  the wheels softly kissed the concrete and the airplane settled to ground.  

I couldn't help but smile as we pulled off the runway and the Captain, now a completely different person from our first interaction smiled and said, "Well, you can't complain about that one!"  The airplane pulled up to the gate and I ran a few more checklists while we were shutting down.  I had reached up to unlock the door and a few minutes later, a passenger shouted  to us "Good landing fellas!" as he walked out into the jetway.  My once white face now felt flush red.  The swing of emotions over the last 6 hours was borderline bipolar. 

We walked out of the airplane in Chicago and hitched a ride to Moline, Illinois where we would begin our next day at 5:15am.  The rest of the trip was incredibly uneventful.  I received many helpful tips and instruction over the next three days.  I even flew three of the four legs on the third day including one into Cleveland.  I'd been in that airport dozens of time but was a little excited to land there as a pilot.  I walked out in the D concourse there to have a sandwich and get some time to just relax a little.  If you would've asked me two years prior if I'd be the pilot landing at Cleveland-Hopkins, I would've laughed at you.  

On the last day, I flew both legs from Philly to DC and then from DC to St Louis.  As I walked through the St Louis terminal on Wednesday only 72 hours from when I began the trip, I felt a new sense of confidence unlike any that I'd felt in a long time.  I was no longer embarrassed to say I was a pilot.  In the past, it always felt like a front because, while I knew I was, I'd never really been paid to fly.  I'd only been paid to teach.  The Captain and I chatted and laughed as we walked through the terminal to the employee shuttle.  I walked taller and laughed harder than I had in years.  Even the kid in me smiled with giddiness knowing that he'd grown up to Live his Dream: to be a real life Airline Pilot.  Knowing that made me feel whole again as I rejoined the path I'd strayed off of 10 years ago.

I'll leave you with my favorite poem of all time and one that I've used many times to describe my life.

The Road Not Taken
By: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

*If you were confused by my 9 and 12 year old comments, be sure to read the "Unfamiliar situations" entry from a few months ago. 

This is the end

I promised from the very beginning to be honest about the good and bad of all that I do in my pursuit of aviation.  Unfortunately, this blog, "Chasing a Dream" will cease to exist after this post.  There is a story as to why, but first, I should catch you up on the activities of the last 2 weeks.

Following the oral, I had six days before my simulator training was scheduled to start.  I had been considering heading out to California if everything went as planned and with the successful completion of my oral exam, I did just that.  Late in the afternoon, I packed a bag, hopped on a plane and by midnight found myself standing in the airport in Santa Maria, California..

My friends and former roommates of 4 years, James and Michaela, had moved back to Vandenberg AFB.  I had promised to visit them before they moved and took this opportunity to revisit my first home following college.  Santa Maria is positioned in a great place along the Pacific Coast about 2-3 hours north of Los Angeles.  My memories of that place were relatively negative but the trip I had there was nothing short of fantastic.  Aside from an occasional round of video games on the 144" projector he purchased upon our arrival in Montana in 2007, I was able to explore the area I tragically neglected during my year stay there in 2006.  A hike through the rolling hills to the ocean?  Check.  Tasting wines from the wine Mecca of the US?  Duh.  Incredible ethnic food? Of course.  Who couldn't forget about the two Halloween parties we went to. Thank you James and Michaela for the incredible time.

All good things, especially those that involve not working, must come to an end.  So, after a long weekend, I packed my bags and hopped on the next flight out of Santa Barbara.  By early evening, I found myself back in St Louis, ready to begin my next and last phase of training.

****

On Halloween night at 8 pm, my training begin.  It was fitting that I should play pilot on Halloween.  So, I walked in to begin a 9 day rigorous training program where I had to be prepared to perform at the "Airline Transport Pilot" level in an airplane I'd never flown before.  When my partner and I showed up to the training center, we were greated with a tour of the facility.  I will give you your tour right now!  

As you walk into the rather inconspicuous two story office building, you are greeted by a front reception and a lounge area.  The lounge area is fashioned with a few vending machines and, most importantly, two fresh-coffee machines.  They even ground the beans for you before dispensing; that or the the beans on top of the machine were just for decoration and it made sounds to trick you into believing you were drinking fresh coffee.  As you leave the lounge area, you pass through double-doors and into an enormous room hollowed out from basement to the second floor. 

Walking along the catwalk, you see on the right small briefing rooms with a computer and a desk and with few chairs.  Then the right side opens into a massive computer room filled with what looks likes the WOPR from the Matthew Broderick movie "War Games."  The massive computers in the central room run four of these:

Like a ride from a 3D full-motion ride at Universal Studios, this simulator sits atop  hydraulic jacks to simulate the motion and feeling of flying the real airplane.  I was in the one off screen to the left.  

You approach the simulator through a catwalk that is lifted once the sim starts on full motion.  You can see the cat walk at the bottom of the photo.  From behind, the molded plastic and shape reminds me of a 30 feet boat.  I can imagine myself walking through the door into the sleeping quarters.  

Once inside, you are encounter a full mock-up of the airplane's cockpit.  This is where I would spend my time from 8pm to midnight for the next 9 days.  

The simulator sessions ran me ragged.  We simulated all sorts of things: flew through volcanic ash, into the mountains at the wrong altitude to learn how to avoid them, things caught on fire, we had to put on the O2 masks and fly as if the airplane lost pressurization, other airplanes flew at us and I had to react.  It was exhausting.  I remember after the first few days how much my head hurt.  As the training sessions continued, things got more and more complicated.  On the last and 8th day was my practice checkride.  

Everything started like normal but that wouldn't last long.  As we climbed through 1000 feet, our computer warned us of traffic heading right for us.  I turned and pulled the power all the way out to dive away from a possible collision.  After we passed the aircraft, we started climbing again only to fly through the wake of a larger aircraft.  The sim violently tilted to one side and my instruments verified this rapid wing drop.  I quickly grabbed the controls to right the airplane.  

Following a few routine maneuvers, we started the hard part of the flight.  We flew a normal approach with low clouds and fog.  As we got close to the runway, it disappeared as I entered a low fog bank.  Only 50 feet above the runway and seconds from hitting the ground, I had to quickly initiate a go-around and climb away from the airport.  Passing through 1000 feet again, my engine caught on fire.  After successfully putting it out, I had to come back and do that same approach without an engine.  It was a good approach but a bad landing.  I was starting to get rattled.  We were back on the runway and the instructor fixed the engine.  We were cleared to take-off again and just as I pulled the nose off the ground, my engine quit randomly.  The airplane yawed to turn off the runway and I stomped on the rudder to keep the airplane straight.  I continued to pull to get the airplane off the ground.  After a jet is committed, it can't stop.  It's far more dangerous to abort at this point than to continue the take-off.  

The airplane slowly but surely climbed away from the ground and we declared an emergency.  Air Traffic Control informed us that the normal approach was out of service and we had to shoot a back-up, less precise approach into the airport.  As we got close to the airport again, I started sweating and working hard to keep the airplane under control.  At 500 feet above the ground there was still no sight of the airport.  I had no choice but to go around and try again.  I added full power and continued to fight the airplane until I could turn the autopilot back on which I immediately did.  It's not that it is hard, but it just requires a lot of mental effort to make sure you keep everything where it is supposed to be.  

Finally, the weather cleared up at the airport and my engine magically turned back on.  Just a normal approach to end the simulator...but wait.  My flaps failed and any system to give me a glide slope back into the runway was out.  I had to do it solely by looking out the window.  At nearly 180 mph, we came screaming back into the airport and landed.  Simulation over.  

My initial impression of my performance was marginal.  I sank back in my seat and was disappointed.  I had made a few errors that, in my mind, would require additional training.  I sat there in the seat staring at the instruments like I'd just lost the big game.  

"Okay Chris, well, you had some issues which I felt were out-of-character for you today.  Even still, I think you would've passed a checkride today and I'm comfortable signing you off for tomorrow night,"  my instructor informed me.  My partner wasn't as lucky and needed extra work.  

On Saturday, I did my normal routine.  I headed to the coffee shop at noon to run through my profiles, my call-outs, my procedures.  I must've looked really bizarre talking silently to myself as I waved my arms in random directions touching the imaginary buttons in front of me.  I tried hard to work some of the kinks out of my flying but was convinced I still needed an extra session.  The last thing I needed right now was a check ride failure.  

At 7 pm, I arrived at the training facility and was borderline out of my mind.  The adrenaline was pulsing through my system.  My face was hot to the touch and I was convinced it looked as red as it felt.  At random times, sweat would streak from my hairline.  And the sim hadn't even started yet.  I am going to fail.  I am going to screw something up.  I just know it but I have to go in there and just do the best I can.  At the very least, the recheck will be shorter and less intense.  

As I added full power, my heart started to race and my mind seemed to give me a nearly out-of-body experience.  As I pulled back on the controls, I came back and started to fly.  Then, one and half hours later, it was over. The airplane was frozen in time hovering over the runway and the examiner gave me his requisite ass chewing.  On one particular thing, I'd nearly done something really stupid.  "You CAN'T DO THAT!  You need to be 100% focused especially during take-off.  The first time you get in this plane, there are going to be people in the back expecting to get from point A to point B safely.  You need to watch out for your Captain and you need to make sure that NEVER happens.  I know it didn't, but you were close.  Don't EVER DO THAT!"  And there was silence as I stared straight ahead at the instruments.  I felt like all the air had been taken out of the room.  "But other than that, I thought you did a good job.  I guess you pass."  

He got up and just walked out of the simulator.  I passed.  Two months to the day after I started, I had passed my check ride.  I walked into the briefing room and the examiner was smiling and started telling jokes.  He handed me my brand new certificate.  In large bold letters it reads, "AIRLINE TRANSPORT PILOT."  Wow.  Just wow. I ran into an instructor who asked how many sims it took.  "Only 8?"  He asked.  "Great job.  Very few people are finishing in the minimum amount of time."  Nothing like a little more ego boost to end the day! 

Ever since I was 9 years old, this is all I've ever wanted to do.  While this isn't the last step, this is by far the most important.  On Monday, I'll meet with the director of training and he'll set me up for my first trip sometime probably next week.  It'll be with an instructor, of course, but it'll also be full of people.  My first take-off, my first real landing will be with paying passengers on board.  The butterflies go back in their cage today but I'm sure they'll be back.  

I know this sounds phony, but I can't thank every single person in my life enough who has been there to support me through this.  My family, my friends, even those of you who casually read this, have in their own way helped push me through it.  In two short years, I've gone from being a miserable former Air Force Officer to an airline pilot.  Every thought, every kind word means the world to me.  So, thank you to all of you for everything.  I mean it from the bottom of my heart.  

So, why is this my last blog.  I've decided that I'm no longer "chasing a dream."  The last two plus years have been detailing my pursuit of this goal.   Last night, I achieved it and would be silly to continue on.  The next time you see this page show up on your news feed or in your email inbox, it will titled "Living a Dream."   

The Troll under the Ground School Bridge

Sunday was just like any other weekend morning since arriving in town 6 weeks ago.  I awoke around 7 AM and stayed in bed until the nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me of what I was scheduled to do on the next day.  I reluctantly rolled out of bed to get ready for the day.  Walking out the door of the room, I grabbed a peanut butter toasted bagel and my 25 pound kit of mental goodies en route to a Starbucks.

Early on during my training, I started venturing further and further from the hotel to various coffee shops.  I figured if I was going to be living in this area, I might as well use this as a chance to get to know the city. The particular area that I enjoyed the most was an area called the Central West End. Centrally located on, well, the west end of the city, the CWE is a young, vibrant community in the heart of the city's university and medical district.  The sidewalks on one of the main streets are packed with tables from the various restaurants and coffee shops and have a small town feel of Main Street.

So, on Sunday I found myself in the CWE with my books.  Over the previous 6 weeks, we had gone over everything and more.  Now, I had to prepare for the final exam, only this final exam would be unlike any college final.  There would be no multiple choice, no short answer.  If a weakness was detected, the exam would rewrite itself to expose the lack of knowledge.  So, I had to make sure I knew everything I could.

With the exception of the few weekends I went home, every single day was filled with me at a coffee shop for a minimum of 3 hours reviewing what we had learned during the day.  On weekends, I easily doubled this effort.  On this particular weekend, my nerves were beginning to kick in.  I felt relatively prepared but I didn't want any uncertainty to set in during the oral.  Second guessing myself would lead me down a road I didn't want to go down.  I knew I had to put every ounce of effort into ensuring I knew everything.

After arriving a little after 9 AM, I finally decided to call it quits at 5 PM.  Like a time-lapse movie, hundreds of people had entered and left during my stay.  Each time I would look up from my books, the landscape of people at the tables around me changed.  Two pretty girls sat down across from me and I made a mental note to say something.  The next time I looked up, they had turned into an old man talking to himself.  Oh well, I'm too busy for that now anyways, I thought to myself as a consolation.

After lunch, I figured it had warmed up enough outside to sit on the sidewalk.  I packed my goodies and moved my work station to the small table outside. It was a pleasant 70 degrees in St Louis and I took a few minutes to take in the warm weather while watching the bustling activity on the street.  Every few minutes, someone would come jogging or riding by and have to avoid large clumps of people standing around talking; the brunch crowd was beginning their migration out of the restaurants.  Many mindlessly walked along the sidewalks stopping briefly to examine the newly changing leaves of the oak trees.  It was so peaceful.

At the end of my stay, I found myself staring off at nothing.  I had answered every question I had, memorized every number associated with the airplane, redrawn schematics in my notes.  After 6 weeks, I finally felt as prepared as I could be.  As I drove home, I turned my radio off and listened to the hum of my tires on the road to calm my increasingly active nerves.  I wasn't ready.  I couldn't be ready.  I'm not ready.

That night, I tossed at turned for hours before falling asleep.  My dreams, not to be outdone by my conscious mind's activities from the day filled my sleep with numbers and drawings.  After staring at the ceiling for an hour the next morning, I prepared for the big 2-hour exam.  I attempted to study but could no longer concentrate.  I would look over my note cards and, instead of saying the number associated with the various limitations of the airplane, would say in rapid succession, "I know it, I know it, I know it."  At that point, I'd far exceeded the point of diminishing returns.  If I didn't know it now, I wasn't going to know it.

At 10 am, I walked to the room where my examiner was filling out paperwork while waiting for me.  "Fill this out.  Write LEGIBLY.  I'll be back in 5 minutes." When he returned, he sat next to me and reviewed my paperwork, licenses, passport, and medical.  While he was writing down my passport number, he asked, "what is the maximum ITT on APU start?"  Well, I guess we're starting.  He must not be in the mood for small talk.  I quickly answered after I realized he was asking me a question.  He reached for my licence and while he was reviewing it, he asked another question, "What is the maximum rotor speed of the APU?"  Again, I answered quickly and confidently.  "Okay, what's your employee number and where are you based?"

After answering the question, I said, "I like those questions.  They were easy."  He never looked up but I saw him smirk when he responded, "Well, I can make them harder if you'd like."  I nervously laughed aloud and wasn't sure if my attempt to cut the tension was received well or not.

Then the rapid fire questions started.  He asked memorized procedures and expected perfection.  He pointed at this button and then that switch.  "What does this do?  When is its automatic logic?  Does it turn off on its own?  How about this?  What makes this work?"  He jumped around the entire cockpit and after almost every single question, I had a quick and correct answer.  He never acknowledged whether it was correct but simply moved onto the next question.  Every so often, I would stop to think.  I was pretty sure I knew the answer but wanted to make sure I had the correct one.

He paused.  I saw him just staring at the cockpit layout presented on the graphic flight simulator.  I peeked at my watch and noticed that only 35 minutes elapsed.  Not looking at me still, he asked another question, "what does that red button there do?"  The answer was easy.  Red buttons I spent extra time learning what they did.  They were red for a reason.  After another brief pause, he said, "Okay, well, I guess you know your stuff.  Great job.  Any questions for me?"  I felt perplexed.  That was it?  It's over?  Was it that easy or was I just that prepared?  The examiner had a reputation for being the toughest one in the company.  I guess I was prepared.

I knew he was going to be my simulator examiner as well, so I made sure to ask him what he saw people mess up mostly in the sim and what some of the biggest weaknesses were.  He spent 20 minutes venting on the things that frustrated him.  Well played Chris.  He just gave you some of his emphasized items.

I walked out of the building at 11, an hour earlier than I had anticipated.  I couldn't believe that the culmination of all the studying I'd done was already over.  It wasn't painful.  It was just another test among the dozens that I'd taken in the past.  So, to reward myself, I drove back to my room, changed into something comfortable and headed out to watch a movie.  A $5 matinee?  Yes please.

Fire hoses are not for drinking

Well,  I am happy to report that after 5 long weeks, classroom training is just about complete.  In one respect, it is hard to believe that I arrived here over a month ago.  I think back to the day I decided to jump ship and drive out to St Louis.  In another respect, my brain is tired.  

As new hires, you show up and do a lot of paperwork and basic information lessons.  After a few days, it was time to dive into company documents and procedures.  We learned all types of policies regarding daily operations and de-icing procedures.  We dove into the SOP to learn about what can and can't do based on the document issued by the FAA.  It was a tad dry but my mind was fresh.  After over a year of teaching the same basic things over and over, it was a refreshing change.  

After the first test, it was time to start getting specific.  We started talking about the EMB-145 specifically and were introduced to the Graphic Flight Simulator.  During normal operations, checklists are not used as a document to "see it then do it," but merely a check to ensure that it was done properly.  That means I had to start memorizing, on top of the various limitations of the airplane and emergency procedures, normal checklists.  How do we start the airplane up, how do you do a proper preflight, what configuration is the airplane in during take-off or taxi.  Each of those times are addressed with a particular flow (a particular way you wave your hand over the controls to ensure that you touch or verify every button you are required to.  For example, before take-off, I draw a very large 8 with my left hand.  For the after landing flow, I draw a backwards C on the overhead panel.  Simply stated, it's just a way to make sure you don't forget anything.  If you do, the checklist catches you.  

You might be asking yourself, as I did, why we just don't run the checklists to take care of the various configurations.  Well, as I found out in the graphic simulator, things move entirely too fast to take the time to, as we said in missiles, "read a step, do a step, eat a banana."  

Above you'll see the graphic flight simulator.  With everything in this airplane being computer based, this training tool has been invaluable.  It is one thing to sit in my room with the poster on the wall pretending to push buttons during my flow.  It is a completely different thing to do it here and see what the buttons do or the computers say.  Here you see one of the instructors showing a classmate how to program the speed tape.  

After a few days of playing around in one of the coolest touch screen flight simulators ever, it was time to learn about how it all works.  We had two full weeks of "systems" class.  Here I got to learn more than I've ever wanted to know about fuel systems, hydraulics, jet engines, electrical systems, and computer logic.  On Monday, I have a test.  I am taking this tim to write a blog as a mental break because, boy, I need one.  

My schedule for the past 5 weeks has been relatively uneventful.  I wake up at 630 and go to class from 8 until around 5.  After class, I come home, grab a quick bite and head back out.  I've been tasting the various Starbucks in the Greater St Louis Metro area to study.  After 9, I head back to the hotel where I lay down, doodle on the internet a bit and then go to sleep.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  

One of the coolest days we had was Monday.  FINALLY, after a month, we went down to the hanger to do some hands on training in the airplane.  Don't get too excited, it didn't go anywhere, but it was cool to finally get experience with what we were seeing.  Below are a few pictures of airplane.

As we stood outside, the instructor hopped up and started up the Auxiliary Power Unit.  The APU is a tiny jet engine in the tail of the airplane which provides power and air conditioning when it is at the gate.  If you've ever had to board an airplane from the ground, you've probably heard the loud screaming sound coming from somewhere near the airplane.  That is the combined sound of this generator and the air conditioning. 

Our class walked up into the airplane.  We sat down in the seats and waited for our instructor to start the lesson.  Today, each one of us had to open every single door and exit.  We also received a familiarization of where all the emergency equipment was stowed and worked with a flight attendant to see what she would do in an emergency.  It was weird to be sitting on a commercial airplane and not actually be going anywhere.  

Finally, at the end of the day, we all got to go up into the cockpit to learn about the emergency equipment there.  We adjusted out seats and looked out over the nose.  It was stunning to see exactly how high that thing sat compared to every other airplane I've flown.  It felt weird to be sitting in the right seat, looking at all the buttons and even more weird to know what they all did.  After a few quick minutes, the lesson was over and we had to go.  The next time I'm there, I'll be sitting at a gate in St Louis, Chicago, or Houston, going on my first ever flight.  That next time will most likely be mid-November.  It's so close I can taste it.

Over the past week, it has become harder and harder to concentrate.  At first, it felt like my brain was a sponge.  I heard, I read, and I easily remembered.  After 4 weeks, it wasn't so easy but I continue to push through.  

Fear not though, I am taking time during the weekend to explore my new home.  A lot of people I talked to before I left for St Louis made weird faces and odd sounds when I told them where I was headed.  I must say, so far, I have nothing at all negative to say about the city. I've taken the light rail downtown every weekend and found great places to sit and study. There is an incredible park in the center of town and some really neat, artsy, younger areas spread out around the city.  

I've decided that I'm okay with being here for the time being.  I would have loved to have ended up in D.C., but this is a much much cheaper version of bigger city life.  There are several million people in the Metro area and some really cool things to see and do.  I'm excited about the opportunities ahead! 

Catch Me If You Can

The weekend came early.  After nearly two weeks of 8 hours of class followed by studying until it was time to sleep, the Director of Training gave us one last break before the next big push began.  We would be taking Friday off and allowed to enjoy a 3-day weekend. This was an odd feeling.  For the previous two years, with the exception of major holidays and weddings of course, I had worked, flown or studied 6-7 days a week.  Taking three days off in a row would have, at times, been equal to an entire month's worth of days off for me.

Unfortunately, this would be no vacation for me.  When I originally left Florida, I had given myself less than 24 hours to pack, clean and get moved out.  I needed to get back and get everything organized before my lease expired at the end of September.  The 3-day weekend would be the perfect opportunity to get this done. 

The week prior, we received our company pilot/crew badges.  With the badges, we were told that our information had been put into CASS (Cockpit Access Security System) and we were now eligible to jumpseat.  So, I now had a plan; a free one that was, in reality, no plan at all.  

Early in the morning on Friday, I prepared to go to the airport.  Sporting a white dress shirt, black slacks, and my carry-on luggage I walked through the doors to the terminal and made my way down to security.  The most important accessory was hanging from the lanyard on my neck, the ID badge labeled "CREW."  I didn't have a ticket and it was the only way I could get through the checkpoint to the gate. As I approached the security access point, I noticed the twisting and turning of humanity all trying to prove that they were, in fact, not terrorists.  Even at the relatively small airport as compared to Orlando or Los Angeles, there were at least 100 people in line waiting.  At 5am, many were anxiously checking their watches and straining their necks to see what was taking so long.  As older and less experienced passengers struggled climbing through the hoops set forth by the TSA, the people behind them groaned audibly or shook their heads.  Clearly everyone here was is in a good mood.

I checked my phone as I entered the back of the line.  An experienced traveler, I had given myself plenty of time to make it to the flight and not having to check a bag helped incredibly.  As I made my way to the end of the line, a TSA officer pointed at me then beckoned.  "Sir, you don't have to wait in line.  You're crew."  I politely corrected him saying that I wasn't flying today, just trying to catch a ride home.  "It don't matter.  You have a badge, you go through this line."  

There wasn't really any point arguing with the man especially if it would keep me from having to wind mindlessly through the security line.  I walked up, showed him my badge and he put me in the front of the line.  It was an awkward feeling to get any special treatment in an airport.  Even as a cadet in uniform, I never received any special treatment.  Over the years, I had become so numb to the feeling of being just another passenger amongst millions that this sudden movement to the front of the employee line was unsettling.  As I made my way around all those impatiently standing in line, I felt a little embarrassed.  Are they looking me? 

I quickly and effortlessly made my way through security and found myself at the gate.  I had checked the passenger loads of the flights the previous night and flying Delta Airlines to Daytona Beach through Atlanta seemed to be the easiest.  I walked to the counter and met with the gate agent.

"Good morning.  I was wondering if the jumpseat is available today?"  She typed away at her computer and responded affirmatively.  I handed her my badge and my passport.  There was no one else listed for the jumpseat and as long as someone from Delta didn't show up, I'd get it.  The back of the plane (where the passengers sit) was oversold today due to a massive amount of storms that blew through most of the Midwest the day before.  Well, that solves the mystery as to why people were so grumpy, I briefly thought.  How silly of me.  People are always grumpy in airports. This just gives them a good reason to be. 

I was told that 6 flights were canceled out of St Louis and that it didn't look good to be assigned a seat.  I'd most definitely be sitting in the cockpit.  Not more than 5 minutes later, I was called to the podium.  Unfortunately, a Delta pilot had showed up and they wouldn't be able to give away the jumpseat to me.  I've come to learn that 6 am flights are the most missed by people stuck in security or from oversleeping.  Today was no different but, as a jumpseater, I am at the end of the standby list.  Fifteen people missed their flight this morning but I was number 17.  Oh well. 

Have you ever wanted to show up to an airport and just go wherever?  I've often romanticized about being able to show up and get on any plane to go anywhere.  This concept, of course, has always been financially prohibitive.  Today was a different story.  I pulled out my phone to find the next flight out of St Louis.   United Express had a flight to Chicago but it was leaving in less than 20 minutes.  When I arrived at the gate area, it was empty and they were making announcements for passengers to return for boarding.  I politely asked the gate agent if there were any seats available and she quipped back, "Well, if these 10 people don't show up, there will be plenty of room.  Wait around."  

After 10 minutes, only 3 of the people showed and she looked at me.  "Well hunny, this flight has to go.  You're good to board."  I just looked back at her in confusion and asked which seat I was assigned to.  "Whichever one you want.  Well, are you going to board or stay here?"  

Still relatively confused and wide-eyed, I boarded the airplane.  The flight attendant was waiting there in the doorway and I politely introduced myself to her.  She quickly moved out of the way allowing me access to the cockpit.  "Good morning," I said.  "I was wondering if you have room for one more?"  

In the airline world, the jumpseat and any seat to be filled by jumpseating crew members is owned by the Captain.  It is good form to introduce yourself to the Captain and crew so that they know who you are and where you are seated.  As part of the "free ride" you get, it is expected that you help the crew should the need arise.  In fact, the regulations refer to anyone occupying a jumpseat as an Additional Crew Member.  That seems more than reasonable in exchange for being allowed to ride along.

The Captain, first officer, and I exchanged small talk for a few minutes before I politely bowed out to go find a seat.  When the flight arrived, I waited for the last passenger to deplane and made my way to the cockpit once again.  I poked my head back in the cockpit, thanked the crew for the ride and made my way into Chicago O'Hare to find my next connection.  

I felt like a much less handsome and talented Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can as I walked off the plane and into the jetway (as an aside, if you haven't seen that movie, it is excellent.  Stop reading and watch it now).  It almost seems too easy to be able to go wherever, whenever.  I couldn't believe I had just paid nothing to fly to Chicago, a trip that even by car would cost nearly $50.  

Within the hour, I had repeated the process, only this time on a United Airlines mainline flight to Orlando.  The crew, much older and much less friendly, still gladly obliged and I found myself a comfortable seat in the rear.  

After having spent the better part of 24 hours in Daytona Beach packing, I made my way to the airport one last time.  Most of my friends had already made plans for Saturday night, so instead of waiting until early in the morning, I hopped on the last flight out of Daytona to Atlanta on Delta just in time for me to make the last Airtran Airways flight to St Louis.  As I boarded the last flight at 10pm, the flight attended grabbed my shoulder as I left the cockpit to find my seat.  "Here ya go." she said as she handed me a mini-bottle of water.  Thus ended my first and most assuredly not last trip as a stowaway.  

It begins...

I pulled into St Louis, Missouri much later in the evening than I originally planned on Sunday night.  Even though I only spent an hour in Nashville with family on Sunday afternoon and wanted to spend longer, I still had 5 hours of driving left.  Just as my aunt warned, the most boring part of my drive was ahead.

By 8 pm, I could vaguely see the St Louis Arch in the distance. As the "Gateway Arch," a symbol of American expansion into the western frontier became larger in my windshield, I hurriedly reached up to my phone mounted on my windshield so it could capture the rather majestic view of the tallest monument in the United States.  Not long after setting up the camera, the city of St Louis became distinctly visible behind the Arch as the interstate began to twist and turn down toward the mighty Mississippi River.  The river was larger than I remembered it being when I crossed through the city on my way to California following graduation from USAFA and I caught myself staring in awe at the Arch on the west bank.

It was just then that I heard my phone screaming at me to exit.  Cruising in the left lane, I watched my exit whiz by and shrugged while I waited for Google to fix my silly mistake.  The next exit was only a half mile ahead and as I turned another tight turn away from the Arch toward the south side of the city, bright red lights lit up my car.  It was there that I hit gridlock.  I swore to myself for missing my turn as I sat in traffic for the next hour.  After working my way through the jam, I arrived at my hotel to check-in only to find out that I didn't have a room.  I felt a slight panic and just stared at the lady behind the desk.  "I'm sorry, I don't understand.  This is the hotel for Trans States, right?" She replied in the affirmative but didn't have a reservation for me on file.  It had been a long two days and I didn't feel like arguing so I pulled out my credit card so I could get some rest before the long day ahead of me on Monday.

I laid in my bed that night, heart racing.  I couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the rapid succession of the events of the week.  Then, after a few quick thoughts, I drifted to sleep.

****

At 6 am, I found myself wide-awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.  The shuttle to Trans States left at 7:30 but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get back to sleep.  After quickly showering and more ceiling staring, I walked down to the lobby where I bumped into some of the other pilots anxiously awaiting the van.  I originally planned on driving myself, but decided against it once I started talking to some of guys in my class.  

After a few exchanges of "heys" and "how are yas," all 12 of us piled into the van and rode in silence the entirety of the 5 minute drive to the building.  I wasn't sure what the facility looked like since the interview was held at the simulator facility owned by a private organization.  The classroom training would be held in the "headquarters" building for Trans States Holdings.  

As a brief detour, Trans States Holdings owns 3 different airlines (Go Jets Airlines, Trans States Airlines, and Compass Airlines).  As we rounded a turn, a large, 4-story, red brick building sat on top of a hill overlooking the St Louis Lambert International Airport.  Built in the 1980s as a training facility for TWA, it looked like little had changed since it was originally built.  The windows were nothing more than long vertical slices spaced far apart across the front of the building.  As I walked into the lobby, four 8 foot long replicas of the various airplanes Trans States Holdings owns sit atop a sleek looking stand.  After signing in as a visitor and given badges, we are escorted to our classroom where we will spend the next 5 weeks. 

One of the first things we did was introduce ourselves and briefly explain how we ended up here in training.  Much to my surprise, the experience in my class ranges from a 63 year old Air Force Academy graduate to a 22 year old recent college graduate with many different types of experiences in between.  I was the second to introduce myself and as I listened to the last 10 people tell a brief history, I couldn't help but chuckle.  

One-by-one, each person stood up and told a story.  Most had stories of heartbreak and disappointment revolving around either 9/11 or the Great Recession of 2008.  One person was furloughed; another's airline shutdown and he was so bitter he left aviation completely for a year.  A gentleman in his late 40s flew a cell phone mogul around and the man decided this year to give it up.  He sold his airplane and, subsequently, needed to let his pilot go.  The USAFA grad bounced in and out of airline aviation in the 90s but ended up taking a lucrative job overseas teaching other countries how to fly their new F-16s.  Each person's story was so incredibly unique, but in some weird way, each of them were all the same.  They could all be summed up by saying, "I was hired and something happened.  I wanted to give it up but just couldn't.  I love flying too much.  So here I am."  Every single person in the classroom, with the exception of the two people fresh out of college had gone through significant setbacks, frustrations, and financial hardship but, no matter how hard they tried, found themselves back in the game.  It sounded surprisingly like a support group meeting.  "Hi.  My name is Chris and I am addicted to flying."  

As a whole, the next two weeks went relatively smoothly.  Of course, there are many stories I am going to tell over the next few weeks but, in order to save you all from reading a mini-novel, I will keep this dedicated to the classroom only.  

The fire hose was only partially opened as I absorbed new regulation after new regulation.  As it was all new and mostly common sense, the new information stuck.  It was like adding water to a dry sponge.  I have yearned for years to get to this point, to learn about professional aviation and my brain was up to the task.  My memory, often times akin to a goldfish, quickly digested and cemented the information in an easily accessible location.  In fact, on Wednesday, we took our first 100 question test over the information presented over the preceding week and a half, and I scored a 98%.  It should've been a 99% had I gone with my instinct on one question, but alas, 98% will have to suffice.  I guess I'll have to spend more time in the coffee shop.  

Week 3 begins tomorrow and we will start delving into the more complicated topics of airplane systems.  Jet engines, electrical systems, pressurization, and hydraulics.  From everyone I've talked to, this will be challenging.  One of my friends is at another airline, started the same day as I did and will be flying the same airplane.  He said to me after day one of systems, "shit just got real."  Nothing like a little foreshadowing for my long 3-day weekend.  

Every good thing must come to an end to make room for great things

Last Tuesday was just like any other day.  As I was plodding through my day in New Smyrna Beach, I received a phone call from a St Louis area number.  Instantly, I knew Trans States was calling.  Several weeks ago, I had put my request in to be moved to an earlier class date.  I was hoping this was the call; only 6 day remained before the earlier date was scheduled to start.  Much to my dismay, the conversation was just a confirmation that I would still be showing up to training on the 23rd.  Indeed, I was.  "Oh, and one more thing," I chimed in.  "If anything opens up on Monday, I'd be willing to be moved up a few weeks."  She said she'd look into it and let me know the next day.

In the airline industry, seniority is everything.  As has been witnessed by the last 10 years of bankruptcies and instability, one additional person below you can be the difference between having a job or being on the streets during a furlough.  On a positive note, if you can get ahead of just one more person, you can make Captain that much sooner.

The following day, HR called back and said it wouldn't be possible to move my class date.  After a relatively lengthy explanation as to why not, I resigned to the fact that I'd just have to wait an additional 2 weeks.  Instead, I'd be joining my best friends from Montana in Vegas for a mini-reunion.  I suppose if you can't have one, you might as well have the other.

The rest of the week was relatively painless, all things considered.  On Friday morning, I joked with the Starbucks barista I usually talked to in the morning that the previous day was one of "those" days.  "As I was sitting there talking to a student, I almost threw up my hands in frustration and just walked out of the job.  So, I decided to go to Las Vegas today," I embellished.  I did in fact have one of those days and I was in fact going to Las Vegas in the afternoon.  The two, however, were completely mutually exclusive.  Note to self, your "game" still sucks.

Friday was shaping up to be just like Thursday.  I was sitting there staring at a student while evaluating him on his instrument knowledge.  "So, how to GPS work?" I asked the student.  He merely shrugged back at me.  "Well, look it up," I said exhaling and rubbed my head in frustration.  Another one of those days.  I really wish...

My phone started ringing again and the screen lit up with that familiar number.  The student started talking but I wasn't paying attention.  As I stared at the screen, my heart skipped a beat. Could this be what I think it is?  I quickly rejected the call to send it to voicemail and tried to concentrate on the student as he stuttered through the answer.  My phone buzzed again as Google sent me a text with its best guess as to what the voicemail said.  As with all new technologies, it wasn't perfect, but I got the meaning fairly quickly

Transcript: "Hi Chris, Is got this instead, and we can get you in class if you wanna come on Monday, so call me back."

"I'm sorry, can you hang on for a second?" I asked the student as I walked out, nearly heart racing.  I listened to the voicemail to confirm what the text was saying and Google heard it correctly.  Class starts in less than 3 days.  I'm in.  What about Vegas?  What about my stuff?  After a few quick phone calls to my mom and my uncle, I quickly made my decision.  I was going.

I walked into my boss's office and sat down.  "So, I have good news and I have some bad news."  The fact that I was leaving wasn't news to him.  He knew it was coming and I had told him 99% chance it was on the 23rd with a remote chance on the 9th.  He leaned back in his chair and looked at me.  "Well, go with the bad news first."

"So, Trans States just called me and they want me to start on Monday."  He tilted his head to the side,  told me that it was a good opportunity and that he was happy for me.  

"Okay, " he smiled, "now tell me the good news."

"Trans States just called AND THEY WANT ME TO START ON MONDAY!"  I couldn't hold back.  As I walked back to finish the day I had scheduled, I couldn't help but feel a little bad.  I'd grown comfortable and become successful here.  I caught myself thinking that I should stick around for something better but as soon as those thoughts entered my mind, I remembered all the reasons why I wanted and needed to move on.  It was time.

After the biweekly meeting at the end of the day, I picked up my check and walked out the door for the final time.  I never thought it would happen so suddenly.  I drove home in silence and reflected on my last two years in Florida.  I would be back briefly to pack my things, but the next day I would be essentially leaving forever.  The thoughts were no less humbling than when I left Colorado or Montana.

Exactly two years ago tomorrow, I packed up my little car and headed down to St Pete, Florida to begin this journey.  It was a weird time in my life and, to this day, I can't bring myself to read the blogs I wrote back then.  I'll let you all judge my insecurities, my frustrations, and my sadness.  What I can say, however, is that my time in Florida turned my life around.  I now walk taller, laugh harder and am proud of what I have become.

On my trip to St Louis, I made time to visit family.  My cousin Frankie and his new wife Claire welcomed me for dinner in their new home town of Atlanta.  It had only been a few weeks since I visited Nashville to witness their union and only the third time ever that I'd met Claire.  Even still, I found myself wanting to stay all night to talk and joke. It was something that I would've never done two years ago on the trip down to Florida.  In fact, I remember specifically avoiding places where my family was out of embarrassment of what I had become.  As I left Atlanta, I made a mental note to visit again.  It was clearly apparent that night, on my next day's brief lunch with my Aunt and Uncle in Nashville and after spending the weekend at the wedding with my whole extended family that no matter how poorly I thought of myself, they were always there, standing behind me in support.  Never again will I make an effort to avoid them; on the contrary, I will go out of my way to seek them out.

So, today I begin a new journey.  The last 30 years of my life have contained many challenges but none that I did not conquer.  This will be no different.  As I listened to the overview of the course, for once I looked forward with anticipation.  This is my time to shine.  I smiled.  My, how things have changed.

I want to thank each and every one of you who continue to read this blog.  Every so often, I check to see if anyone is actually reading by checking page views and each time, I am stunned by both your quiet and oftentimes vocal support.  Each and every one of you have kept me going and your support means the world to me.  As I stand at the doorstep of my dream, knocking, I will continue to share my every experience.  I hope you all will join me as I start this new and exciting journey.