One Weary Wanderer's Final Stop

This isn't a typical story.  It could almost be said that it is an epic; although one without any of the beautiful, timeless prose with which it is often accompanied.  To the average reader, it might just be another tale of love but do not mistake this for anything ordinary.  This story will be everlasting. It will be eternal.  If you feel even a fraction of what I feel, this story will be a success.

****

It was during the deepest dark of the Great Depression that she was born, a daughter of a Campbell by the name of Barbara Jean.  She was born into a typical lower-middle class family and lived her childhood years in the shadow of the great rubber plants in Akron, Ohio.  Her mother spent her days during World War II baking pies and eventually became known throughout the city as having some of the finest pies around.  Eventually, she became enamored by a man named Robert, a handsome U.S. Air Force Sergeant who bears a striking resemblance to the author of this story. 

As a military wife, she began her travels to bases across the United States.  In two of them, her children were born.  Jeff, her first, was born in Buffalo, New York and Connie in Great Falls, Montana.  It was almost exactly 50 years later I unknowingly chose that exact location in Montana as my first operational base.  During my tour there, my parents came to visit.  We toured Barbara's stomping grounds, relaying what we saw via cellphone to the 76 year old woman.  We even found the house they lived in on base.  When we took a picture and sent it to her, she was confused. "That's not my house.  It didn't have such a big tree in the front yard."  Of course it didn't.  Fifty years ago, when the house was first built and their first occupants, the Boyes', moved in, it was merely a sapling.  Not more than 2 months after their visit, the house was torn down.

Robert retired and they moved back to Ohio to raise their children, to be closer to family.  It was not long after the kids were out of the house that Robert, the love of her life, passed.  With her daughter traveling the country as a flight attendant and her son and daughter-in-law raising kids of their own, she left the state again.  She didn't join the masses of the Great Generation in their migration to Florida.  She did something far more unique when she moved to Turkey.  She lived there for a few years, as a base of operations for her tri-continental travels visiting Egypt's Great Pyramids, Istanbul, and Russia.

Once she had used up Eurasia, she moved to Jamaica where she spent another several years.  On one particular Easter when I wasn't much more than 10, my family and I flew to the island nation to visit.  We toured the beautiful forests and climbed the famous water falls.  It was my first glimpse into traveling and an experience I will never forget.  

Apparently tired of the warm tropical climate, she moved again but this time to Canada.  She lived hours north of Lake Erie for another stretch of time.  Just like the last, the Boyes clan made the trek around around the lake and to her house for Thanksgiving.  My sister and I were much older by this time and I think she began to realize what she was missing.  She wanted desperately to be closer to family.  

One Christmas when she had been away for a time, my sister and I had been opening presents.  We spent the morning playing with our toys when the doorbell rang.  Confused, we ran to the door to see my grandmother, Barbara, standing on the steps with presents filling the porch.  She had returned and this time for good.  Not long after, she moved into a house almost exactly a mile from us and thus began the start of some of the greatest memories of my life.  

I don't know that there's a good way to write about her.  She was really the only grandparent I'd ever known.  When I was younger, I played on a traveling baseball team and she was there for me.  Every. Single. Tourrnament.  She drove behind my family, almost in an identical van, to baseball diamonds and hotels as far away as 5 hours.  She never missed a game and was the exact same way with my sister.  During High School, she was known by all the parents and all the players as the "Team Grandma."  She was there, hooting and hollaring during every at bat, after every pitch.  "That's my boy!" she would yell following every home run. After especially devesating loses, she never broke a smile.  "Christopher.  Your grandmother is so proud of you," she would say.  With a big hug and a bigger smile, she would almost always make the sting that much less.  

She flew out for Parent's Weekend my freshman year at the Academy and was there for me the day I walked across the stage to get my diploma.  She gave me my first job and never failed to sneak a $20 in my pocket whenever I came to visit.  "Look at your grandmother," she would say.  "You know how much I love you.  If you ever need anything, never be afraid to ask.  I would give you the moon if I could."  Even when I wasn't around, she would stop strangers to talk about her grand children.  She was just so proud. 

Exactly 10 days ago, I brought my girlfriend Nicole home to meet my family.  Of course, a stop had to be made to see my grandma.  She was having problems getting water out of her system and had spent a week in the hospital but that was no strange scene for her.  I'd visited her many times over the last 3 decades in the hospital.  To me, it was just another visit.  It also just so happened to be her 82nd birthday.  

My aunt pretended to surprise her with me.  "Look who I brought," she said.  

As I walked into the room I saw her face light up, like it always did when I walked into her room.  "Well hello there!  It's so good to see you!"  Her tired smile seemed to stretch across her entire face and her eyes filled with love.  It was the way she looked at you that made you feel the most adoration.  It was as if you were the only one in the room and she seemed almost sad she couldn't love you harder.  "Grandma.  I want to introduce you to my girlfriend Nicole."  

She was so happy to meet the girl she'd heard so much about.  Really, it was the girl she found out about before even my parents knew.  I always like to tell her last even though she managed to find out first. She always got so excited when I talked about girls and wanted so badly for me to find happiness.  It was finally time to let her meet the girl she pried about every time I came home and during every phone call.  To see the look on her face when they finally met was priceless and a memory I'll never forget. She looked at Nicole, then looked back at me and said, "I like this one" while shooting a wink in her direction. 

 She sat there next to her bed, in her chair, making faces at her cup of semi-solid drink. We told stories and laughed at the ridiculous things she always said.  She winked at me to show that she was joking.  Even though I'd been there for an hour, it felt like minutes. As we said our goodbyes, I gave her a big hug and told her I'd see her soon.  Then told her that she will probably be seeing Nicole around more too.  I kissed her white haired head and whispered in her ear, "I love you Grandma."  

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."  

On May 18th, 2015, sometime between the middle of the night and early in the morning, the tired and weary woman made her last trip around the clock and slipped silently away to meet her husband.  He was the only person whom she loved more.  Her memory will forever linger in my brain.  There were the ping pong games in her basement, the spaghetti dinners in her dining room and the hours spent just hanging out on her couch whenever I'd come and visit.  

She was always talking about this blog and how much she loved it.  "Chris, I just loved the one about the girl" or "That one about the flying thing was just so good!."  Well Grandma, this one is dedicated to you.  I'm not sad about my last memory with you.  It was a great visit.  It was full of happiness and laughter.  I wish I could have said goodbye to you one last time, hugged you for 30 more seconds and heard you tell me how that I'll never know how much you loved me one last time.  I'm not sad because you're gone.

I'm just sad I couldn't have loved you harder.

An Open Letter to the Passenger in 23D

I'm sorry.  I don't know if that's good enough.  My heart is broken.

Where should I begin?  I really haven't the slightest clue.  It all started as they always do; on a beautiful, sunny day.  Passing over the city of New Orleans, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.  The Gulf Coast was visible all the way to Florida, I mused at the time.  When the flight attendant called, I had just begun to tell the Captain my story of the man with the seizure.

The message was brief.  You needed oxygen.  While there is plenty of oxygen in the cabin, sometimes more concentrated amounts are needed.  There are portable containers available for just this occasion.  I assumed that's all that it was.  I remember feeling bad for the flight attendant and Captain.  Using the oxygen meant filling out paperwork before the end of the night.  Poor them.

It was the second call, not more than a minute later, that got our attention.

"She's not breathing.  I gave her oxygen and she's not breathing!"

As before, we both sprung to action and decided to turn around and land in New Orleans.  It was only 30 miles away, much closer than the last time I had to do this.  The Captain declared a medical emergency, and I, almost identical to the month prior, did my best to get us in a position to land.

This time, it was our turn to call.  We informed the surprisingly calm woman in the back that we were headed for New Orleans.  I wasn't prepared for her update.  "She's just 10 years old.  She has cancer.  She's not breathing."

A lump filled my throat.  I don't know why it mattered more that you were so young but I felt the need to get down faster.  It took less than 12 minutes for us to land in New Orleans from an altitude of 37,000 feet.  A feat that is normally done in over 40, those 12 minutes dragged on for what felt like hours.

We had no navigational charts for the airport.  There was no calling over the radios.  Just a simple text to our dispatcher in St Louis.  You'd think it would be chaotic but it was eerily calm and quiet as we both stared out the window at the airport growing beneath us.  As we pulled up to the gate, the paramedics were there ready to spring to action.  We turned the airplane off and opened the door to the waiting flight attendant.  Both of us looked back at her, hoping for good news.

She shook her head.  "I just used the oxygen bottle.  The father told me she had a Do Not Resuscitate order so I didn't do CPR."

A wave of grief washed over me like the waves I watched washing over the shore not more than 20 minutes prior.  As the paramedics rushed onto the aircraft, I finally felt the gravity of the situation resting firmly on my chest.  I was short of breath and my eyes began to burn.  I saw your tiny body, just barely old enough to attend school, carried lifelessly off the airplane by the paramedics.  Behind you, your parents and infant sister.  I truly wish I hadn't turned around to see you, to look into your eyes.  I wish I could have been a coward in that moment and stared out the window instead.  I'm even more sorry that I feel that way. As tears began to drip over my cheeks, I saw that rest of the airplane was looking forward.  I quickly turned and faced forward, turning knobs and pushing buttons pretending to be busy.

The Captain turned on the PA to make an annoucement but stopped after the introduction.  I looked over and could see his cheeks glistened under the dark sunglasses he still had yet to remove.  "God, this is hard," he choked.  I quickly turned and leaned into my corner, trying my hardest to bury the emotions.

You were taken from us to the firehouse and eventually the morgue.  Your parents were trying their hardest to get you to your home in Jacksonville where you could die in peace. What's the hardest for me is all the ways I failed you.  When I learned of your distress, I couldn't save you.  No matter how hard I could have tried, and tried hard I did, your time on this Earth had ended.  I feel terrible that we left you and your family in New Orleans, a strange city far from your final resting place.  We couldn't keep going no matter how much your father begged us to continue on.   I'm sorry we left you.  I'm sorry we couldn't save you.  I'm sorry you had to die so incredibly young.

My heart breaks for you, little girl in 23D.  I can only hope that what little life you had to live was great and full of wonder.  I hope you felt no pain as you slipped away from us.  I can only hope that when you finally gave up you were looking out your window at the endless expanse of the Gulf of Mexico, its shores, and in awe, like I was, at its beauty. I wish I could at least give you that.

Sometimes, It's About Life and Death

"Here's the load sheet.  Can I pull the jetbridge?" the gate agent asked us after we had finished boarding the flight.  It was a cool December morning in Oklahoma City but not nearly as brutal as the single digits that we had just left behind in Chicago.

"Uh, not yet," I answered while dutifully plugging the bag count and passenger distribution into the computer.  "This should only take a second." As the server crunched the numbers somewhere in St Louis, I made small talk with the Captain.  "Forty people and 82 bags seems a bit high."

The Captain returned from his blank stare. "It's the holidays.  People are bringing all of Santa's gifts back from Grandma's house.  We're just lucky we aren't completely full.  I doubt we could take all 50 with as many bags as they brought."

A few squeaks and squawks from our computer let me know the weight and balance data was being received.  When it popped up on our screen, I reviewed the information and turned back to the Flight Attendant.  "Okay, we're good to close."

The bell on the mobile bridge rang out across the ramp as it creeped slowly away from the door allowing the brisk air to make one last attempt of filling the cabin.  Somewhere deep inside the airplane, a hydraulic accumulator released pressure to raise the airstair door.  With a loud thud followed by the sound of metal pins scraping against metal anchors, the door was firmly secured.  

"Alright, I'll see you guys in Houston.  You're buying me lunch, right John?" the flight attendant teased for the tenth time in as many legs as she closed the door. 

"Before Start Checklist," John commanded.  Once I finished reading through the checklist and we both verified the airplane was secured and ready for departure, he let the ground crew know that we were ready for them to push us away from the gate. "Start number two."

I reached up to initiate the start sequence.  "I'm beginning to think she isn't joking," I mused while carefully monitoring the engine instruments for any sign of an abnormality.  

"Man, you have no idea.  She hit me up for $50 while you were in the terminal getting coffee.  When I told her no, she accused me of being racist.  I wasn't sure how to react," he confessed sounding almost defeated.  

Electrical relays clicked and clacked loudly behind us.  "Start complete," I announced then turning to John laughed, "No way! She has to be joking. There's no way she's being serious!"  

"Set your brakes," the tug driver said in our ears then weighed-in on the discussion. "Normally I ask if you want to trade places.  Not today guys.  Good luck."

It was a short taxi to the runway.  While John taxied, I checked to ensure the airplane was ready for take-off and reached up and pushed the button to call the flight attendant to ensure everything was secure in the back. Ding-dong. The chimes rang loudly in the cabin; loud enough for us to normally hear them with headsets on and air rushing at the window at 350 mph.  Once she confirmed that everything was secured in the back, we took the runway.

It was my turn to fly.  I advanced the throttles and the jet engines roared to life.  "Set thrust," I commanded.

"Thrust set," John replied. I stared straight ahead as the runway began to accelerate below us.  "Eighty knots."  The end of the runway was now clearly visible ahead.  We raced toward the end at 130 MPH, playing chicken with the red lights that were warning us we were running out of room.  "V1.  Rotate."
  

I pulled back on the controls and the nose lifted off the ground followed quickly by the rest of us.  We were airborne.  In seconds, we were engulfed by clouds and just as quickly, we were spit out the top now flying at nearly five miles per minute.  No more than four minutes after defying gravity, we were passing through 10,000 feet.  Ding-dong.   This time John reached up to call the flight attendant and released her to begin her service.  "Okay, you are released and it looks like we have about an hour left." 

"Yo Chris, buy me lunch.  John won't do it.  It's because I'm black," she replied.

I laughed a little and made up an excuse, "You know I would but I'm broke.  I only have like $200 to my name."

That didn't stop the onslaught.  "Sounds good.  I'll take $175 then."  She was clearly joking.  Wasn't she?

That was the last exchange as she hung up the phone and began her service.  John and I began to make small talk.  I told a story about the baffling exchange at the coffee shop/restaurant/bar.  Ten minutes passed with us telling meaningless stories and jokes.  Then in our ears unexpectedly rang the chimes. Ding-Dong.  I looked up at the overhead panel and confirmed that it was the flight attendant calling again.  I looked and John and smiled, "It's all you man.  I'm flying."

"Yes?" John asked in an almost singsong tone.  

She barked into our ears.  "I have a passenger back here having a seizure.  I have to go."  The line went dead.

I paused, coffee mug to my lips and sat in silence for a second.  Still trying to process what I'd just heard, I looked over at John who was also sitting there frozen in time.  I broke the deafening silence  "Did she just say someone was having a seizure?  Was she joking?" In my mind, a person was sitting in their chair seizing, foaming at the mouth.  Jesus Christ.  

"Yeah, I think she did," John confirmed.  I leapt into action.  Pulling my route binder onto my lap, I looked for the page of the nearest frequency to a network that would allow us to talk to what is called Medlink, an on-call doctor that could help us with a medical emergency.  "What are you looking for?" John asked. 

"The ARINC frequency.  We are right on the border.  I just wanted to check to see if we were in the Midwest or South sector," I explained.  

John sat in silence for a second thinking.  "Okay, we have a passenger who is supposedly having a seizure."  Looking at the digital map and our current altitude, he made a decision.  "No, I think we just turn around and go back to OKC.  What do you think?"

I followed his logic.  We were passing through 23,000 feet and climbing at a rate of nearly one mile every three minutes.  There was still at least 45 minutes before we got to Houston.  If he was willing to just turn around and land, now would be a good time.  "Yeah, I'm on board.  Let's go back to Ok City."  

"Center, Waterski 33-45.  We need to immediately return to Oklahoma City.  We have a passenger on board having a seizure," John announced on the radio.

"Waterski 33-45, turn right now heading 360.  Descend and maintain 1-6 thousand feet, Standby for your clearance" Air Traffic Control instructed.  

Now, it was time to do some quick mental math.  By the time we got cleared to turn around and descend, we were over 27,000 feet.  I cranked the heading to north, pulled the throttles to idle and turned my 2000 feet per minute climb into a 2000 feet per minute descent.  

"Waterski 33-44.  Cleared to Oklahoma City via direct Oklahoma City.  Descend and Maintain 1-0 thousand feet," we were instructed by the Center.

I quickly reprogrammed the flight computer and saw that we were only 60 miles from the airport.  As a rule of thumb, at 50 miles, you'd want to be around 15,000 feet.  We had just passed through 27,000 feet.  Idle throttles alone wouldn't do it.  I opened the speed brakes and a low frequency rumble reverberated through our seats as the small "flaps" opened on top of our wings to add drag.  With the strong tailwind, we were eating up a mile every 7 seconds. I increased the rate of descent to one mile a minute.  At 450 mph forward and 60 mph hour down, we were as close to falling out of the sky as I ever cared to get. 

It was mostly silent except for the shuffling of papers as each of us went about our duties to prepare the aircraft to land.  John spoke up.  " Boy do I hope he wasn't just asleep."  

I replied, "I just hope he's still alive.  I wonder what's going on back there."  As I finished my thought, she called us. Ding-Dong.

John answered again, this time all business. "Okay, what's going on back there?"

"Here's the situation.  I was doing my beverage service and when I was about 3 rows from him, he let out a loud yell, lurched back in his seat and his eyes rolled into his head," she detailed.  That answered John's question.  "I'm back here with him now.  He has a pulse but he's completely unresponsive."

It was the Captain's turn to speak. "Okay, we are headed back to Oklahoma City and should be there in about 15 minutes.  Does he appear to be stable?"

"Yeah.  His eyes are open but he isn't responding to anything I say.  Like I said, he has a pulse but he's just staring straight ahead.  I'm going to sit back here with him for landing.  He's in 21C"

As we raced toward the airport, we were handed off from controller to controller.  Once on approach, the man on the other end asked, "will you be needing any assistance on the ground?" 

"Affirmative.  We'll need medical personnel to meet the aircraft.  He has a pulse but is not responsive," John answered.  

"Roger," then went on to an airplane landing ahead of us. "Cessna 57T, I may have to break you off this approach.  We have an Embraer inbound with an emergency.  Be prepared to go-around."  

It felt like an hour before we were finally in a position to land.  Through my mind raced dozens of possibilities.  Then, the emotions and memories nearly two decades old came flooding back into my consciousness.

***

As a Freshman in high school, I had worked and clawed my way to the Varsity baseball team.  It was an incredible feat, at least in my own mind.  All the hard work and effort that I had put in over the years was finally coming to fruition.  In the 5th inning, beating our rival Perry High School by ten runs and merely 6 outs from being a part of a school record number of wins, the head coach walked up to me.  He put a hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and said, "Chris.  Great job today.  I'm taking you out and putting Greg in right field.  He's a senior and I think deserves to be part of this win."

Then, in an instant, the man fell backwards against a wooden shelf and collapsed onto the ground.  He let out a snort and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  I stood there, hopelessly, frozen in time as my mentor, the man I'd grown to respect, lay on the ground dying.  I wanted to help but couldn't move.  What could I do even if I could?

 We were corralled to the outfield but not far enough away to hear a parent and nurse relentlessly giving CPR.  The rhythmic counting of chest compressions echoed across the completely silent crowd.  The screams of despair as one parent yelled to no one in particular, "Why is it taking so long for the paramedics to get here?"

The other team joined us in the outfield and together we prayed and I cried.  Was it me that pushed him?  Did I make him die?  Why couldn't I do anything to help? The paramedics eventually showed up to the field, put him on a stretcher and took him to the hospital.  He was pronounced dead on arrival.

****

I pushed the old memories to the back of my mind. "Gear Down," I commanded.  At this point, even with the thought of a man in the back that may or may not be in serious trouble, I had to concentrate on landing the 42,000 lb airplane. For once, there was something I could do.  I was not helpless. 

Once on the ground, the Captain took over the airplane and I went back to handling the radios.  We were instructed to taxi to the gate and once we were clear of the runway, I called operations on a back frequency.  "We are on the ground.  The passenger is in 21C."

"Okay, the ramp personnel are waiting for you at gate 12.  EMS will meet the airplane there."

I turned on the PA.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, from the flight deck.  We have a passenger on board who is in distress.  Paramedics will be meeting the aircraft to attend to the individual.  Once we park, please stay seated and allow them to get to him."

With the airplane parked, I leaped up to open the door.  The paramedics came on board and spent about 5 minutes in the back of the airplane.  The man was able to walk off under his own will.  As he passed the flight deck door, his eyes were glazed over as he stumbled forward and off the airplane.

For us, though, it was again business as usual.  The Captain was on the phone with dispatch and I began to reprogram the airplane for our second attempt to get to Houston.  It is easy to get distracted by the repetitive nature of airline flying.  You forget that sometimes, the job is about life and death.  When you read articles about bad decisions leading to worse outcomes, you can't help but think, "if I was in that situation, would that have been me?"

This isn't the time for reflection.  There'll be plenty of time for that drinking coffee and watching the sunset.  Now we have a job to do.  The gate agent peeked her head in the door and said, "Here's your loadsheet.  Can I pull the jetbridge?"

"Uh, not yet.  This should only take a second..."

'Twas the Flight Before Christmas

'Twas the flight before Christmas throughout the concourse. 
The last trav'lers all nervous and all out of sorts;
Their delayed flight still shown at the gate to O'Hare,
With hopes that the late flight would soon arrive there;

Happy kids in pajamas were jumping on seats;
For rushes of sugar kept moving their feet;
With their mom on her phone, dad looked up from his Mac,
Had just heard his girl cry and yelled, "cut it out, Jack!"

And then out on the ramp there arose such a clatt'r,
The kids rushed the gate door to see what was the matter
On his way to the rescue dad flew like a flash,
Ever ready to scorn and give them a lash.

Yellow lights on the tarmac showed new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday to objects below,
And then what to dad's wondering eyes did appear,
But a tiny toy plane, ones passengers fear,

With both old and young pilots so filled full of grit,
Were determined to fly it despite the tight fit.
As the passengers rushed to pack up and deplane,
They reached up for switches, and called them by name:

"Off, seat belts! off, beacons! set brakes and on heat!
Off, engines! on, fuel pumps! The Checklist's complete!
To the top of the gate!  I am bouncing off walls!
After such a long flight, it is nature that calls!"

With the travelers' exit complete to the last,
Through the door, the grayed Captain, completed the cast.
He was dressed in a suit, from his neck to his shoe
It was clear that his clothes were to show that he flew;

With a handful of stripes on his sleeves on display,
Briefly stopped for the kids as they stared in dismay.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

Yet it clearly was cold, was it starting to snow?
And the beard on his chin, more than 5 o'clock's shadow;
When he smiled and waved at the kids standing there,
They ran quietly, finally, to wait in their chair;

His shoulders were broad and he laughed deep and hard,
With ten hours on duty, his mood won't be marred.
A bad joke he tried telling, his courage exude
Was bold, how he tried hard to lighten the mood;

A quick wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to dread;
He tried joking no longer, right back to his work,
Cleared the agent to board and then turned with a jerk. 

The last airplane was full, to the runway they went,
And at last, it would seem, 'twas good money they spent;
Felt it launch off the ground, gave their lives up to fate
And away they all flew to their families who wait.

From this pilot to you, while I fly through the night—
“Merry Christmas to all, hope you have a nice flight!”

You have questions, I have answers, Part: The End

Well friends, I have come to the end of my questions answered posts.  Thanks everyone for your participation as it gave me many great ideas!  Everyone, please sit back, relax, and enjoy the short ride to blabber town.

Is there ever any Snakes of the Plane? -Luke Durbin

I think Samuel Jackson said it best...  In my limited time, I have yet to see anyone transporting a pet snake across the country.  I think the best part of my job, at times, is when I get to go out and see the cute puppies and kittens (and a small pig last week) sitting on the ramp waiting to be picked up by the Pet Mobile.  If you want to transport your pets on your honeymoon to Hawaii, make sure to check the airline webpage to see what types of animals can be carried in the baggage compartment.  I honestly don't know if snakes are one of those approved pets.

I know a lot of people give US airlines a lot of grief but here is why, even on the worst days, we really do have it pretty good.  A few weeks ago, a 19-seat turboprop airplane, much like the ones that used to fly to small regional airports in the United States, was making a flight from one African city to another.  Due to the shocking lack of regulations in many undeveloped countries, a passenger was allowed to bring his pet crocodile on the plane with him.  As you probably have figured out, Mr Ticklesworth got out of his paper sack that was acting as his cage and began terrorizing the passengers.  The bloodthirsty monster scared so many people that they began rushing to the back or front of the airplane.  This caused the airplane's center of gravity to shift so far from its operating envelope that it rendered its flight controls worthless and plummeted to the earth, much to the dismay of everyone on board.

Has there ever been a real life instance where passengers actually used their seat cushions as flotation devices? -Amanda Clay Beres

I promised to be honest and I will be with this subject.  The fact is, of all scenarios I can think of, landing in the water would be last of all other options I'd make.  Many people think of water as a smooth surface that should be easy to just glide on.  There is a reason why they call the USAirways Hudson River ditching a miracle.  Most airplanes are not designed to land on water, nor is most water smooth.  If you ever have to land on the ocean, you're landing on moving hills and since wheels sink into those hills due to their lack of ability to float, you have to land on the belly of the aircraft.  One wrong move, like the wing tip hitting the water first and you end up cartwheeling across the ocean.  I needn't tell you how that one ends.  That being said, when I googled successful commercial aviation ditching accidents, many of them were success stories.  Of all the ones listed after 1980, only one involved a US-registered commercial aircraft.  The rest were airlines and pilots based in less-developed countries.  Now, there is more to the story.

An aircraft has very intense certification requirements if it is going to carry passengers.  Depending on the type of operation, those certification requirements change.  For example, I'm sure you've noticed that some aircraft have lifeboats and life vests while others merely use seat cushions.  The aircraft that only have seat cushions are not permitted to conduct any passenger carrying flights for extended periods of time over water.  So, when they say in the unlikely event you have to use your seat cushion, they mean it.  In those instances, unless I have to choose between urban NYC and the Hudson, there are plenty of other open spaces and various airports within gliding distance that I would choose over landing in the water.  As I said earlier though, having to choose to land off a runway would have circumstances so remote, you'd have a better chance of getting hit by lightning and winning the lottery.

In the golden days of aviation, only aircraft with three or more engines were permitted to conduct transoceanic flights.  This was so that an aircraft could lose one engine and still have plenty of power to continue to an airport and land safely.  In the modern age, advancements in technology have allowed two engine aircraft to get waivers to conduct transoceanic flights.  These aircraft, like the 777 and the 787 Dreamliner, have powerful enough engines to fly on one engine even if it failed at the midpoint of the Pacific.  They also determined that the reliability of these engines are so great that the probability of having both fail are so unlikely that the chances of it happening are almost non-existent.

How long does it normally take to move from a regional to a major?

This question has been debated ad nauseum for the last decade, mostly because the circumstances have changed so drastically.  Since the turn of the century, a lot has happened to distress this industry.  First, in an effort to finance their 3rd house and 3rd marriage, many senior airline captains at major airlines chose to give up scope than take a pay cut.

What is scope, you might ask?  It is built into the pilot contracts the allowed percentage of subcontracted flying the parent airline can have.  Prior to 2000, most contract flying was only allowed if the airplanes were small and propeller driven.  Small jets were incredibly expensive and mostly not even a thought.  As the airlines began to face the gluttonous music referenced in my previous post, management approached the pilot groups with several proposals.  They could either take staggering pay cuts across the board, not take pay cuts and have their junior pilots furloughed, not take pay cuts and add small regional jets to their own inventory, or not take pay cuts and allow 3rd party airlines to fly under their colors for a fraction of the cost.  Regardless of their intentions, keeping everyone on board at current pay levels flying large, not tiny  regional jet aircraft (something that didn't end up happening as all their contracts were essentially voided in bankruptcy anyways), was far more important than allowing the "commuters" as they were formerly called, to fly under the major airline colors.

The airlines came back several times to the pilots and kept asking for relief on the scope clause in the contract using similar threats.  One American Airlines captain told me, almost apologetically, that they should have never given up scope.  They had no idea that they could or would outsource so much.  It was the single greatest defeat for professional aviation in history.  Before many of them knew it, regional airlines had increased daily departures from less than 15% flying small prop aircraft to over 50% flying 50 and 82-seat jet aircraft.  These aircraft, formerly used only to fly short routes to small airports, are now flying former "mainline" routes.  If you asked an airline pilot 20 years ago if the "commuters" would be flying from San Francisco to St Louis in large jet aircraft, they'd laugh in your face.

As a result of this expansion, hiring at the major airlines was almost non-existent in all of the first decade of the 2000s.  It wasn't until 2011 that the "Big 3" began opening their doors again to allow a mass hiring of pilots.  In essence, the answer to your question is, it depends.  As training costs have sky rocketed, less American students seek professional aviation as a career.  This, combined with abysmal pay at regional airlines, has created the first pilot shortage since the 1970s.  The regional airline business model was always designed for a "get in, get your time, get out" mentality. This only works, however, when it is possible to get out.  Now, many of the largest regionals in the United States are shrinking due to a lack of labor.  As they shrink, the people at the bottom are stuck in the right seat, not earning that coveted "pilot-in-command" time.

Even still, the estimated retirements of post-Vietnam veteran pilots, from the second biggest hiring wave in history following World War 2, are staggering.  It is estimated that, in the next 10 years, over 22,000 pilots will be put out to pasture.  A growing economy also adds a twist as most airlines, now lean following the shrinkage caused by the recession and 9/11, are looking to grow.  Right now, it's taking 3-7 years for civilian pilots to get to a major.  In the future, it could be less.  Of course, since many pilots are greedy egomaniacs, it could also get worse.


Your salary was an Air Force officer was several multiples higher than your salary as an instructor and regional airline pilot.  What has been your strategy for maintaining a quality of life?  Was it a difficult adjustment?

Financially, this has been one of the most trying times of my life.  As a junior Captain in the Air Force living in Great Falls, I was able to put $1000 a month into savings, $1000 a month into my flight account, and still have PLENTY of money after things like rent to do whatever, whenever and buy whatever.  To say that taking that massive pay cut wasn't a shock, would be a lie.

I had some help from my parents, grandma and aunt and uncle in the beginning when I was receiving no income.  I wanted to ween myself off any assistance, though, because, as a man in my late 20s, the last thing I wanted was to need to rely on anyone.

When I first went to my flight instructing job, I cut everything out of my life.  When I say everything, I mean almost EVERYTHING.  Other than my phone, Hulu, and satellite radio subscriptions, I paid for nothing else monthly.  I eventually got a gym membership for $5 a month but was even reluctant to do that.  Food and gas made up a majority of my "budget."  I bought and made my own meals and packed them away for the entire week.  For most of the first 6 months, I'd eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner because it was just cheaper to buy it that way.  I would have an egg/bagel sandwich with coffee for breakfast, a turkey sandwich with pretzels and fruit for lunch, and some kind of random ground turkey and rice mixture made on Sunday for dinner.

When I got my first bi-monthly paycheck, I almost crapped my pants.  It was a little light, in part due to that I had just started flying with students, and came in at just under $700.  After a loan payment and rent, I was looking at bringing home a little over $400 a month for literally everything else (health insurance, car insurance, gas, cell phone, food. etc).  When I started doing the math, I got really depressed.  Not more than 2 years later, I did that math again.  For about 6-7 months, I had $300 available after non-negotiable bills.

One of the first great realizations I made with my new career was that there are some huge benefits to being an hourly wage earner.  Unfortunately, it also would mean that I would have to work my butt off to make a more comfortable wage.  I went to my supervisor and immediately asked for another student.  He was reluctant but I insisted.  That kind of student load would require me to work 6-7 days a week for 10-12 hours each day.  There were some months where I'd have less than 3 days off.  After my first pay raise, I was slowly able to start to add some conveniences back into my life.  I was able to go out with friends and have a beer or a small dinner.  I didn't realize it until about a year into my flight instructing job, but I hadn't seen a new movie since leaving the Air Force.  There is something about living on an incredibly tight budget that pushes things like $10 movies completely out of mind.

It is very difficult to explain to anyone who has had a steady paycheck since graduating college the stress of being a meager hourly worker with no work guaranteed.  To fight over scraps with other flight instructors in the same situation is something I never want to have to do again.

For those military types, my first year at the airline, I could have made less than an airman basic.  Luckily for me, I have been able to pick up flying which adds to my hours and adds to my tax-free per diem of being away from home.  I was lucky to have chosen a good airline with a good contract at the front of a very large hiring wave.  There are many other regional airline contracts that are significantly worse than mine.  With my most recent pay raise, I have entered the realm of military officer base pay.  I'll be hovering around 1st and 2nd LT base pay until I upgrade to Captain; a raise that carries a nearly 100% pay bump.

Your Questions Answered Part 2

Thank you all for your interest in my blog and asking so many great questions.  This is part 2 of 3 of my "things you wanted to know and some things you probably didn't" blog.  So, let's not delay and get right to it!

Do pilots have the authority to give the cabin free stuff in the event of a delay? Why do pilots always drag out the first word like "aaaannnnnd" when making announcements? -Rob Copley

While the Captain is in charge of the whole airplane and can suggest making alcohol free for the flight, it is really up to the lead flight attendant.  In the most drastic of delays, I have seen free alcohol served on some of the legacy airlines (United, Delta, American).  I honestly can't say about discount airlines like Frontier, Southwest or Spirit.  Again, this is usually only when there is a significant delay that is going to have most of the airplane's passengers missing their connecting flights or on holiday weekends. Sometimes it is only to the "premium passengers" that fly tens of thousands of miles a year that get the freebies. I honestly don't know what makes them decide whether or not to offer free beverages.

As to the stereotypical drawn out words when making an announcement?  I think we, as pilots, all have made our announcements canned after doing them so long.  While I usually like to put the most important information in one spot so I can easily reference it, sometimes a flight gets crazy.  If things are getting busy and I know I need to make a passenger announcement, I will hurry to get that out of the way so I can get back to helping the other guy fly the airplane.  Here is my typical descent announcement:

"Ladies and gentlemen good (time of day) from the flight deck.  We have begun our initial descent into (city).  Weather at the airport: winds are out of the (direction and speed), (cloud cover), and (temperature).  For those of you with connections (only in hub cities), we should have you on the ground and arriving at gate (gate) in the next (ETA) minutes.  Thank you for choosing (United/United Express or USAirways/USAirways Express).  Sit back, relax, and enjoy the rest of flight."

Now, when I get to the Madlib sections, I usually have it written out like "Clear, Calm, 72, B24, 25-30."  When I get in a hurry, I have end up searching around for printouts, notes, and computer screens for the information.  Here are all the things we print out during a flight:



So, when you hear me say uhhhh, I'm looking for the right piece of paper and sometimes doing quick mental math.  I have to convert winds 32009 into "light winds out of the northwest," 15 degrees celsius into 59 degrees fahrenheit and try my best to give you an accurate estimate of when we will be on the ground.  I'm doing all this while watching the other guy to make sure we will meet altitude and airspeed restrictions.  So, give us a break, will ya?!

What happens if you are 35,000 ft and you just had your morning coffee? -Frankie Jacobs

Well, first of all, as I've detailed here(A Day in the Life), there is nothing better than sipping on my coffee as we fly into the sunrise.  That being said, there is a strategy to drinking and eating during a day of flying.  As you've implied, after drinking a cup of Joe, you will probably have to go meet a John.  Luckily for me, most of our flights don't last more than two hours.  Most times, I can wait until after we land to take the Browns to the Superbowl.  In the unlikely event of an emergency mid-flight, there are protocols for making the "walk of shame" past all 50 people to the bathroom.  I've been close a few times to having to make a trip to the "back office," but I've been lucky enough to being able to wait.

Part of the strategy to eating and drinking is finding a long break in a day of flying.  Do I get the dreaded 2 and a half hour break?  That's not nearly as bad because I can find a nice quiet spot of the terminal to relax and make a sandwich.  Is that part of the terminal nearly abandoned?  Bonus.  The bathroom will be that way too.  A word of caution from a near-miss.  If it is too remote, the motion sensors will turn off the lights causing to you be up Shit Creek, so to speak.


Why has customer service dipped so much with airlines of the United States?  A friend of mind compares stateside air travel to a bus in the sky.  Meals on cross-country flights are a thing of the past, as are complimentary beverages with a lot of airlines recently.  Is it all a byproduct of increased fuel prices and decreased flights?  I noticed that with international flights, there are still perks.  why were my Air Tahiti flights so much more pleasurable than my domestic Frontier flights?

I could make an entire blog on this question alone and, you're right.  It is complicated.  In the end, as brutal and simplistic as this sounds, it is the consumer's fault.  "How dare you say that it's the passenger's fault!  The customer is always right!"  You are.  And you've spoken with your wallet.  Here's how:

In the 1970s, routes in the United States were very regulated.  Fares were fixed and capacity was high while load factors (the percent of places full) were low.  An airline could be profitable in those ages for several reasons.  First, since the end of regulation, ticket prices considering inflation have been effectively halved.  This has allowed many more Americans the opportunity to use aviation as a mode of transportation.  Unfortunately, over the past decade, several shocks have been introduced into the system.  September 11th, 2001 was a massive jolt to the system.  As people were reluctant to fly following the terrorists attacks, companies began bleeding money.  Then you have to take into consideration the incredible increase in fuel prices.  Since deregulation, many many airlines have entered the fold and that lead to a over-capacity problem.  There were way more seats than there were passengers.

The airlines had a choice to make.  Many times they tried to raise fares to keep up with the skyrocketing fuel prices.  Southwest changed the landscape by offering low fares with its historic fuel hedge.  Prior to the fuel price crisis, they signed a deal that they would vow to buy fuel from a distributor only if they could buy it for the current price for the next 10 years.  This gave them an incredible advantage over the "legacy" carriers.  As a result, Southwest was able to offer incredibly cheap fares as compared to their competitors.  The consumer scrambled at the prospect of these rock-bottom prices.  Americans love a good deal.  As a consumer, and I was formerly one of them, I had no allegiance to any airline.  My allegiance was to the dollar sign.  If you saved me as little as $20, I was going to fly your airline.  I didn't care about inflight entertainment or meals.  So, as people flocked to low-cost carriers that offered no frills, the major airlines had to react.  In order to stay competitive, they had to cut costs and one major cost cutting measure was to get rid of frills.  The American public is entitled to fly even if it costs less than it would be to drive from one place to another.

"But Chris, the airlines are making BILLIONS of dollars every year."  This is true, but when you look at how many people are traveling, the profit margin on a single ticket is often less than $10.  You may be spending $300 on a ticket but $290 of it are going to sunk costs like labor, fuel, support, maintenance etc.  At any given time, a relatively large percent of an airline's fleet is undergoing required maintenance.  Engines are overhauled.  Wings are inspected inch by inch.  The entire inside of the airplane is gutted to the aluminum shell.  These airplanes sitting is an expensive sunk cost on an airline.

So you bring up Frontier Airlines.  You could also make the same argument for an airline like Spirit.  When you go to a website like Kayak.com, how many people go beyond page one to find a ticket?  Many studies have been conducted and the result is always the same: no t many.  By purchasing a ticket on Frontier, and continuing to do so, you are sending the message to the airlines that amenities are not important to you.  You would much rather bring your own soda and snacks than have any provided to you as long as the price is the lowest.  The CEO of Spirit Airlines, an airline that literally charges for EVERYTHING, argues that if the passenger is going to purchase a ticket SOLELY on ticket price alone, they will give you what you want.  The lowest price.  That's for the base model of ticket.  If you want a window seat, that will cost you.  If you want a carry-on bag, that will cost you.  If you are happy with the clothes on your back and sitting in the middle seat, why should you pay the same amount as someone carrying bags?  The fact is, when it comes to aviation, weight is money.  It costs money to move more weight because the airplane burns more fuel.

When it comes to making a purchase as expensive as a plane ticket or a new television, which one do you think the consumer researches more?  I've talked to many people who research the difference between 1080p, 1080i and 4K.  They do a cost benefit analysis of a 40 versus a 42 inch TV.  Hours are spent researching and talking to experts on the difference in brands and warranties.  Yet, when it comes to buying an airplane ticket, little to no thought goes into the product.

You also bring up the point about international airlines.  I don't know much about Air Tahiti.  It is entirely possible that you WAY overpaid for a ticket to go through the islands as compared to a comparable US Domestic ticket.  If you went from LA to Chicago for $200 and from London to Slovenia for for $200 on an international carrier, you could say that you've been ripped off on the European flight as that flight distance is significantly shorter.

Many people argue that airlines like Lufthansa, Emirates, or any other international airline have much better amenities.  You would be correct.  The flight experience on most major international airlines is a better one.  Many of the large international carriers in Europe and Asia have a partially unfair competitive advantage.  Since many are the only airline in their country, their government holds a stake in its success.  These airlines are partially nationalized.  An airline like Emirates cannot lose money because the oil profits coming into the country subsidize the cost of running an airline.  It is able to offer low fares with lots of amenities for exactly that reason.  Other national airlines like Air France and Etihad fall under the exact same scenario.

Additionally, since the United States airplane manufacturer Boeing, once the only name in aviation, is in a heated battle with Airbus for aircraft orders, it has appealed to our government for assistance. As a result, international airlines that compete with US airlines on international routes are able to use US government subsidies from the US Export-Import Bank to provide incredibly low financing for brand new fuel efficient aircraft like the 787.  This ensures the foreign airlines purchase from Boeing over Airbus while also creating an unfair cost advantage for the US Legacy carriers.  Airlines like United and American have an aging fleet that they are still making payments on while the US government subsidizes their competitors' new fleets.

So, why is it that our commercial aviation system is like a bus system?  Simply stated, because it's what you wanted it to be.  It's no longer considered a perk, but a service that everyone should be able to use.  Do you want to drive from Peoria, IL to Chicago?  No, you deserve to not have to drive.  You'd rather get rid of inflight entertainment than drive.  As such, your wish is their command.

Frequently Asked Questions, Part I

It is a great fall day in the wonderful state of Missouri.  As we turn the corner into November to round out 2014, I've decided to finally give you guys the FAQ section I promised this summer.  It is a time when the "amateur" travelers descend upon the nation's airports and completely forget the it isn't acceptable to pack swords and fireworks in their carry-on luggage.  If you are traveling for Thanksgiving or Christmas, I highly recommend getting there early; not to avoid a missed flight but primarily for the entertainment.  Feeling blue?  You might just catch that guy who managed to pack 65 pounds of clothes for a 4 day weekend and enjoy as he adds layer after layer and stuffs every pocket in an attempt to save $100.  If only you could wear two pairs of shoes at once.

I've compiled a list of questions from you and from my experiences.  Sit back and enjoy!

"Excuse me, where/why is....?"

Whenever I find myself walking through an airport, I will most undoubtedly get asked a derivation of this question.  "Where is my flight?  Where is this gate? Why doesn't my boarding card have a gate on it?  Where is the smoking lounge?  Where is the Chipotle?"  I can't help but scratch my head at these native english speakers.  For those that haven't been in an airport for awhile, I can assure you that the signage has gotten less confusing and more clear.  If you take one minute and look to the ceiling, there are pictures and emoji-like characters giving you instructions on your every want and needs.  Need to know a gate?  There are flat screen TVs every 20 yards that give you that information.  In fact, when you ask me, I'm going to walk over to those TVs to find that information. "But, I thought you might know more than that, like if it was delayed or not."

I will be as helpful as I can and I always am.  Just keep in mind, even if this isn't my first time through the airport, we usually park at the same gates in the same area.  Please don't scoff at me when I tell you I don't know where the smoking lounge is.  If I don't smoke, why on earth would I know where to light up in Houston, Texas?  Also, there is one other thing to keep in mind.  The people who have the "big picture" of the airline operation don't work at the airport.  They work in an office building, most likely across the country.  So, when you ask me why your airplane is delayed and I say, I don't know, I honestly don't.  I'm not lying.  "Well, you're a pilot, why don't you know?"  Even though this is a United or a United Express flight, I do not work for that company.  I can't call up and ask any operationally related questions.  I'm a pilot for a subcontractor airline that, like all regional jet operators, is permitted to paint United colors on its airplanes.  I'm sorry sir, I just don't know.

Can you call ahead to hold my airplane?  

The easy answer to this is "no."  I wish I could say yes.  The fact is, we have no easy way to get ahold of anyone who has that power.  The people who control whether an airplane is late or not can only be contacted by a gate agent or an operations controller.  The operations controller is in charge of assigning gates and ensuring airplanes are operationally ready for flight.  When it's busy, they won't be able to make the request.  In Chicago, they are always busy.  Additionally, because of many complaints to the Department of Transportation regarding delays, airlines are now under very strict performance metrics.  If too many flights are delayed, even if it's for connecting passengers, they could receive hefty fines from the government.

Do pilots score a lot of stewardesses? - Jason Klein

First of all, Jason, I think they get pretty antsy when you call them stewardesses.  I had a Captain on a trip call back and kept saying, "oh stewardess."  It made me cringe all over.  Second, I personally would highly recommend against any dipping into that pool.  There are so many horror stories of mid-trip break downs to mid-night all-night extravaganzas. If you want to have a private relationship, doing it at work isn't the best place to do it.  I live by the mantra, "protect the check."  If there is ever a nasty falling out and it comes down to a "he-said/she-said," we are both going to lose.  She might only be sacrificing her reputation or a month of training.  I have years of training and tens of thousands of dollars at risk.  So, the only stick you should be servicing on your trip is the one that makes the airplane go up and down.

If I bought drinks for everybody but the pilots and had that 737 rocking like a G6, would you be pissed? -Angela Durbin

Excellent question!  First of all, I don't fly a 737.  I'd love to someday, but alas, I'm stuck in a much tinier tube.  If you do decide to buy a few rounds for my airplane, you might be able to get away with a mere $500 tab.  Don't think about cracking open your Duty-Free bottle of liquor either.  It is against Federal Law to consume alcoholic beverages brought onto an airplane.  Thinking about pre-gaming at the airport bar?  Any passenger appearing to be intoxicated will be denied boarding.  You thought playing cat-herder at the local bar is difficult?  Imagine trying to safely evacuate the drunk passengers from a burning airplane.  Even worse, what if your drunk passenger is a rowdy drunk?  You can't exactly quickly 'bounce' him out of your airplane at 35,000 feet.

As far as how I would feel about it, I would say that I would be a little unhappy.  An airplane is like a 3D teeter-totter balancing around a single point near center of the wing called the "center of gravity."  When a passenger gets up to go to the bathroom, believe it or not, it does have a very tiny but noticeable affect on the performance of the airplane.  If you turn the back-end of my ride into Club Jetplane, masses of people moving and jumping and rocking might have undesirable performance characteristics.  Plus, when the inevitable brawl takes place, you might end up spending the night in the Omaha, Nebraska drunk tank.  Have fun getting off that no-fly list.  So, do yourself a favor.  If you plan on getting hammered, turn on Hot Tub Time Machine and enjoy that ride.

If the plane was really in trouble, would the stewardesses faces show it? -Megan Mellquist

I think that all really depends on the flight attendant.  If the airplane were in serious trouble, the tone conveyed by the pilot would really set the tone for the flight attendant.  Whenever I do have to ride in the back, I do find it humorous when we hit turbulence and the entire airplane either leans into the aisle to look at the flight attendant or to look at me.  I have to make a concerted effort every time not to fake a panicked expression.

For those of you that are flying and looking for the flight attendant to determine if you will live, from a pilot's perspective, even in the most serious of circumstances, you will be just fine.  Did your oxygen masks drop?  Don't panic.  A cabin depressurization, while not to be taken lightly, is not a life or death emergency.  Recently, a Southwest Airlines flight experienced a loss of cabin pressure in flight and CNN couldn't be faster to convey the panic on the airplane.  The pilot made an announcement to the flight attendants that they were "going down."  Perhaps a very poor choice of words, he really meant to say that they were controllably yet rapidly descending to 10,000 feet where the air contained enough breathable oxygen to sustain life.  From a passenger's perspective, the 'emergency descent' as we call it wouldn't feel much different than a normal descent once the maneuver was initiated and would be over in no more than 3-4 minutes.

To be completely honest, the only true life or death emergency is a fire that can't be put out.  A dual engine failure, like the famous "Miracle on the Hudson" would be another but is so incredibly improbable that it vaguely even worth mentioning.  The only other comparable failure to driving would be if your engine, power steering, and brakes all sudden and for no reason all failed while driving down a winding, icy, mountain pass.  Is anyone here worried about that?  No?  That's what I thought.

Even if you have an engine failure right as the wheels leave the ground, passenger jet aircraft are certified to climb to a safe altitude and return for a normal landing.  Ever since I started flying a two-engined aircraft years ago, landing with a single-engine has been practiced routinely.  Again, while it is not something we take lightly, it is also not something that you need to lose any sleep over.

I've decided to make this a two part blog entry.  The next few answers to your questions got a little verbose.  If you read this and think, hey, I have a question!  Feel free to add it in the comments and I'll add it to part two (or three if I get enough).  Thanks for all the great questions!