Good Feedback is Good for Everyone

January 30th:
A bright-faced, young, Sri Lankan girl walked up to me and introduced herself.  She was my first student and, as my boss informed me, a very motivated and smart one.  As a brand spanking new instructor, I had quite the road ahead of me.  Having just recently passed my instructor check rides, I was now given a girl with zero aviation experience.  With merely 230 hours under my belt, it was, in essence, the mostly blind leading the blind.

That day almost seems like years ago.  I had literally just moved to town and was living out of a small mom and pop hotel near the beach.  I found the Florida winter to be relaxing and often would return from work and open the windows to my room so that I could smell the cool sea breeze as the sun set.  Tough life, I know.  I appear to be reminiscing...or digressing.  Either way, I'll get back on track.  After going over a lesson about basics of flying on the ground, we planned her first flight for the following day.

February 25th
Many of you may have seen the photo of the slight (especially compared to me) girl with the airplane after her first solo.  The road to that milestone wasn't a smooth one.  The both of us were, in ways, learning together.  She was eager to learn but lacked some of the motor skills that comes naturally to some pilots.  As a very small girl, she often got overpowered by the aircraft and would let a little turbulence get her almost out of control.

I experienced a pretty shocking revelation when I tried to relate flying to driving a car after an incredibly bad landing.  As a 20 year old, she informed me that she had never been behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle.  While having driven a car isn't a mandatory requirement when flying, especially since the two things are so different, the experience gained solely by spending hours keeping the large metal vehicle between two lines is one that can help someone know if they are too far left or right of the runway.  I remember when I was learning to drive that I was often afraid of mailboxes and oncoming cars no matter how far or close they actually were.  In my inexperience, they all seemed inches from hitting me.

A few days before, I sent her up for her first progress check.  I was walking out to another flight when I heard her come back to the pattern from her progress check.  I stood on the ramp and watched her, time after time, abort the landing and go around.  For whatever reason, she continually kept approaching the runway excessively high.  When she got to the ground, she was told that she failed the progress check and was nearly inconsolable.  Her life was over.  This was her dream and she had failed.  "Is this going to go on my record?" she asked in between sobs.  I assured her that this was purely an internal progress check and that it doesn't really count.  I told her that everyone fails at some point but it is only wasted effort if you don't learn from your failure.

She eventually went on to pass and on February 25th, she flew an airplane by herself for the first time.  Releasing a student to fly solo with your name and certificate number in their records is an extremely painful experience.  What did I forget to tell her?  Is she really ready?  As I walked out of the airplane and heard her start the engine, my heart skipped a beat.  The engine revved up and I panicked.  I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.  For sure she had forgotten to contact ground control and was just going to taxi to the runway.  After a brief second of panic, I turned back away from the plane and just told myself to trust her.  She's done this 20 times before and every single time she's done the right thing.  I watched and listened to the radio as she did her three landings.  As she taxied back to the ramp after her final one ground control came over the radio.  "Epic 535, taxi to the ramp via bravo and charlie.  Is that your first solo?"  She responded affirmatively with her meek British accent.  "Well, congratulations.  You did a great job."  Even though that compliment was directed at her, I knew that indirectly it says a lot about me.  She eventually went on to fly solo to Jacksonville and Melbourne with little to no issues.  Then on...

April 13th:

...she passed her Private Pilot Check ride.  The designated examiner, a very experienced pilot designated by the FAA and assigned to the region, had nothing but good things to say about her performance.  Her flight planning was thorough (exemplified by color coding and a flawless flight plan) and her knowledge was sound.  "She'll make a good pilot," he said.  She was, however a little bent-out-of-shape when I wasn't there for the end of the check ride.  My two friends, Dick and Shane, had come in to spend some time with me before literally heading out to the other ends of the earth and I had gone back to spend time with them.

June 7th:

Shortly after her private pilot check ride, we jumped right into instrument training.  Many students think that after earning a private, it will get easier when in fact the opposite is true.  We consider the private pilot's certificate to be a "License to Kill Yourself."  Yes, you've proven that you can land and navigate.  You've even proven that you can handle some very basic emergencies.  Unfortunately, without the experience of the instructor in the right seat, you have little to tell you that you are heading into a bad situation.  As a private pilot, you are barely able to hold your heading and altitude.  Starting instrument flying, those tolerances because a lot more stringent and sometimes that transition is painful...for the both the student and instructor.  An good "instrument scan" is imperative to safe instrument flying.  When I would catch her fixating on a particular instrument or omitting it all together,  I would just say one word: "Heading," "Altitude," "Glide slope."  Those words would be repeated over and over throughout the course of her instrument training.  After spending several months together, it was also the first time I made her cry.

It wasn't intentional but after repeating several lessons, she continued to make the same mistake over and over again.  After receiving a clearance from me in the simulator, she went on to ignore two of the restrictions as she had done multiple times in the past.  "No," I said in a particularly stern voice that I'm sure my sister is familiar with (but never having yelled or even set her up for the failure).  After pausing the simulation I asked her, "What was your clearance? Right it's the same as it's been for the past 3 days.  So, why do you keep ignoring it?"  She stared straight ahead and just said "ok."  "No, it's not ok.  I want to know WHY you keep doing the wrong thing."  All I was looking for was "I didn't hear it, or I forgot, or I thought you said something else."  All of those things can be fixed through various methods like writing things down or bugging or asking the controller to repeat.  "Ok," though, tells me nothing.  I explained that I can't help her if she can't tell me why she thought the clearance was different.  As I turned away to start the simulation again, I saw a tear drop from her cheek onto her shirt.  Great, now I'm a dick.

Then, after a month and a half, she went up for her instrument check ride and passed with flying colors.  The hardest part was still ahead for her.  We were now going to make two very significant changes.  We were going to transition to a completely new airplane and it had gauges and dials instead of a digital display.  Additionally, it was a much harder aircraft to control especially considering the two engines.  I worried for her because her he past struggles in the much easier-to-control Cessna.

August 18th:

The saga continued throughout July and August.  Her study skills were proving to really help her in her ability to fly the new airplane.  She easily committed the checklists to memory and soaked up the completely new systems of the aircraft.  She did struggle a little with controlling the airplane but had far less of an issue than I thought.

One day toward the end of the course, we diverted to a random airport as part of her training.  She hadn't done one since her private course but that had only been a few months before.  After the flight was over, she got really mad at me.  "You didn't teach me to do a diversion like I told you to!"  We went into a small briefing room where we had a very serious conversation.  I told her that we had just went over this material merely a few months before.  In fact, you did all the calculations and navigation just fine.  She protested that I didn't teach her how to do it in THAT airplane.  I calmly replied that diversions in a twin are no different than diversions in a single engine other than knowing that you have to start descending much earlier.  Things happen faster at 170 knots than they do at 100 knots.  "You knew we were going to do a diversion and I know you took notes on it when we did it during private flying.  It's the exact same thing.  Why didn't you review your notes?" I asked.  "Well, the notes don't help me at all.  They are useless."  I could sense the frustration and irrationality because I often do the same thing when I want someone else to blame.  Ask any of my friends.  "You're doing fine.  Literally all you had to do was descend earlier and that would have been fine.  You are getting upset about nothing."

Then yesterday, August 18th, she went up for her Commercial Pilot Multi-Engine check ride.  She was incredibly nervous and for the first time, I wasn't.  As I helped her fill out her paperwork, I made an interesting observation.  Total Time: 201 hours.  She was only 30 hours short of where I was when I first started teaching her.  I now sit at 700 hours.  As I look back to that time, I realize how much I've learned.  In the past 7 months, I've easily doubled what I know about aviation.  Each thing that I learn, I try to pass on to my students in hopes that they will retain it even though I know some of it will go in one ear and out the other.

I was sitting on the couch when I saw her and the examiner pull back into the ramp.  As he walked in the building, he gave me two thumbs up.  "Chris, she did a great job.  Honestly, that's probably the best commercial check ride I've ever done.  Good job."  While I know I was only part of that equation and most likely a smaller part than I'd like to believe, I know that I taught her almost everything she knows about flying an airplane.  I sat in the right seat as I watched her struggle to land.  I watched her struggle to fly an instrument approach.  I watched her cry when she failed and swear when she was frustrated.  I helped her through all of it.  Then, only 6 months and 19 days after her first flight (far faster than we said it would take), she flew an instrument approach with one engine not functioning and did it better than I could ever hoped for.  "The best commercial check ride I've ever done."  Wow.  Now that's good feedback.

As she literally dragged me by my sleeve out to the airplane to take a picture, I couldn't help but notice something wrong.  In all her glory, on a perfect day, she double parked the airplane.  There it was, sitting squarely between two parking spots.  I made fun of her for a little but decided that since she was no longer my student I'd give her a hand instead of laughing as she tried to move it herself.  At least it was a MOSTLY perfect day...

A Long Rode to Ho

August.  We've reached the hot months in Florida.  I leave the comfort of the air conditioned building and walk to the airplane.  It's only 95 outside but as I leave the much cooler building and walk onto the asphalt lake that is the ramp, I am hit by a blast of hot air.  Within seconds, I am sweating.  At 1 o'clock in the afternoon, there is little wind and, as I drop myself in the cockpit of the Seminole, the heat is frustrating.  Sweat is dripping off my arms and face and I am angered by the sun beating down on my unprotected face.  If I close the door, the interior of the airplane will surely rise from the nearly 100 degrees it is now to upwards of 140 degrees.  So, I leave the door open.  As the propellers start turning, the warm breeze evaporates some of the sweat off my skin making the air feel cooler.  As compared to the sweltering cockpit, it might actually be cooler.  It definitely isn't as cool as the 75 degrees that the A/C is pumping into the building, but it's a good substitute.  

On that note, I can't imagine working for a living on a roof, painting a house, pouring concrete, or the likes.  The heat is miserable.  Within 20 minutes, we are climbing through 2000 feet where the air is much cooler.  Eventually, by 5000 feet, it has cooled to a much more tolerable 70 degrees as the student and I twist and turn over the skies of the Atlantic Ocean.  While this job is infinitely (yes, I said infinitely) better than my last, I can't help but think of the future.

I watch students, many of whom are much younger than I am, leave and go back to their respective countries with little more than 200 hours.  They are anxious for the future as many have already been scheduled for indoctrination classes for their respective airlines.  It is intimidating (and somewhat exciting) to know that I am teaching the world's next generation of airline pilots but frustrating knowing that they will be hopping in the right seat of a large passenger jet within months while I burn holes in the sky of Florida.  In 3 days I turn 29.  Wow, that's a big number.  When I got out of the Air Force, I was 27...well, when I officially left I had already turn 28.  As I calculate my hours every week, I can't help but project when I'll reach the needed minimums and it is discouraging.  If my math checks out, I'll reach 1000 hours by the end of the year and 1500 by this time next year.  I'll be 30 and still flight instructing. 

I can't complain too much.  As I said, I do enjoy what I do.  It is difficult to swallow sending a student to a check ride knowing that it goes on my instructor record as well.  Enough failures and I get a visit from the friendly FAA; a thought I don't want to deal with.  It's difficult balance of wanting to save my students money but being completely confident that they aren't going to have any glaring deficiencies the examiner will find.  I also get paid well.  At the end of last month, I received my first raise.  While not a large jump, I know every bit counts.  I am able to live relatively comfortably as a single guy, and will probably start paying off more of my loan.  

Some of the most shocking feedback I received from my boss during my review was that he is impressed by and considers my enthusiasm to be one of my greatest attributes.  If you were to ask my fellow officers in Montana if they considered me enthusiastic, they would most likely laugh.  In fact, a squadron mate who I worked with as a deputy in "the shop" would always ask the same question as I walked into his office every so often. "Oh hey Chris.  What are you going to complain about today?  Let me guess, something has pissed you off."  Yes Matt, if you are reading this, I'm talking about you.  He was right though.  I was not very fun to be around.  I was a tad bit depressing.

For those who follow closely, you know I recently asked for some feedback on a problem I had.  Thank you all for the quick feedback and it will please many of you to know that I've taken the contract and recently completed the required time to start teaching in the other airplane.  I continue to have the reputation to fly as much as is needed and people keep giving me extra work.  For that, I am thankful.

So, I will for the time being, continue to plug along.  The job market is still bleak and I am extremely thankful to not only have a job, but one that I can say I enjoy.  After all, I'm not building houses, taring a roof, or fixing highways; however, I hold lofty goals for my life.  I don't want to be 30 and worrying week-to-week how I'm going to get enough hours in.  I am anxiously awaiting the future.  As I scour the job boards and continue to find myself falling far short of minimums, I wonder pessimistically if an adjective should be added to my blog title.  Perhaps I am chasing a pipe dream.  

Work Hard, Play...eventually

This is going to be an interactive post.  Please share your opinions on my facebook wall or at the bottom!

I liked being salary in the Air Force.  It was a guaranteed paycheck every two weeks for a very predictable amount.  Unfortunately, being salary, I tried to be at work as little as possible.  After all, technically I was only paid for a 40 hour work week and for every hour I was there above 40 hours, my time became less valuable.  Now, for the first time in my life, I'm hourly.  I'm not going to count the two years in high school when I operated the girls basketball scoreboard for $17 a game.  That was barely a job.  One of the most rewarding things about being hourly is that I am paid directly for the work that I do.  If I don't work a lot, I don't get paid a lot.  If I go nuts like I've been doing, I get a more generous paycheck.  And the greatest part: this school's marketing campaign is based on finishing students quickly.  Not only am I directly compensated for my hard work, but my bosses recognize my hard work and proven track record (6 check ride passes with two-three more this month) and throw more work my way.  

"Chris, do you mind working on the weekend? No?  Ok, well, the other multi-engine instructors that refuse to fly on the weekend, we want you to fly with their students then." Done.  

One of the biggest negatives?  I've found myself chasing hours.  In June and so far in July, I've taken 3 days off.  You might say that I need to take more of a break.  The only problem with that thought is that when I'm taking a day off (when I'm not tired) I know I COULD be out there getting more flight time and thus one day closer to moving on to another job.  I know I need to take a break, but as the cliche goes, "you can rest when you're dead."  To be a full time employee (something that some instructors struggle to maintain) you need to bill 100 hours each month or, if you struggle 285 in three months.  Those are flight, ground, and simulator hours.  I've averaged over 150 each month since I started.  So technically, I could take a month off and still be a full time employee.

As I said earlier, you get rewarded for your hard work here.  My boss comes to me and tells me that he wants to standardize me in a new multi-engine airplane.  They are short instructors for this airplane.  To get standardized to teach in any multi-engine airplane according to the regulations, I need 5 hours in the airplane.  For this particular airplane, I have zero.  It is a VERY expensive airplane and it rents at $480 an hour.  For those keeping track, that's $8 a minute.  He said they would do it for free if I signed a contract with the company.  I would be required to be a full-time employee for 6 months from the signing date...

 

My wonderful mother would tell me to make a pros and cons list so I've detailed here for you:

Pros

More multi-engine flying

Guaranteed extra work

Only the rich students fly this aircraft and they don't have a problem flying and flying and flying

Maintaining the "never turns down a chance to fly" reputation I have now.

Cons

I am dedicated for 6 months and cannot go anywhere should something come along

If more Embry-Riddle guys get their Multi Instructor rating, they already have time and experience in it and with only one airplane, I may not get to fly it that much anyway.

Did I mention I'm on the hook for 6 months?

Other considerations

I am sitting at 600 hours right now.  

The lowest airline minimums right now are 1000. 

Single-pilot cargo is 1200 MINIMUM

By August 2013, I'll need 1500 for airline flying regardless.  

If I keep up my current pace, I'll be at 1000 in 4-5 months.**with more work, pace may change.

So, as I mentioned earlier, this is interactive.  Share your thoughts!  Thanks everyone for reading again!

Students say the darndest things

America.  aMERica!  I've spent the vast majority of my life in the United States with several short trips to Diet United States (Canada) and a short vacation once to Jamaica.  Even while in "The States," I've lived in pretty safe, middle class, suburban areas and rarely ventured into the "dark" inner cities.  My exposure to the outside world, even while at the Academy, was relatively sheltered.

Enter my current job.  Even though our current school has nearly 30 instructors, as an American white Male, I am very clearly a minority.  If you were to sit in the lobby of the school throughout the day, you would see an interesting and culturally diverse group of young (and some not as young) people all trying to learn to fly.  I've personally taught students from Qatar, Egypt, Colombia, Jamaica, Sri Lanka, India, Nigeria, Germany, and the UK.  Many more students hail from countries like Brazil, South Africa, Kenya, Sudan, Taiwan, Indonesia, Mongolia, and the list goes on.  All across the world, as nations industrialize, they crave reach that only aviation can give.  As commercial aviation explodes in places like India and China, the international demand for pilots increases.  In short, our school's marketing campaign toward recruiting international students versus American students is genius.  

When you sit down and talk to the students, the first thing you notice besides the broken English and an accent from whatever language they speak naturally is how normal they appear to be.  They are 19-25 year old kids with a love of aviation.  Many like to drink, go to the beach, and talk about girls.  In fact, some of the middle east students turn the school TV on to one of the cable workout stations to look at the girls in the tight clothes.  Oh, and soccer.  At any given time throughout the day, students, especially those from South America, are glued to TV watching soccer.  

One thing that I find interesting is that nearly every single one of them smokes.  Walking out to my car, there is always a few if not 10 or 20 of them smoking in the designated smoking area.  I asked one of my middle eastern students why he smokes so much.  In a heavy arabic accent he said, "Chris, you know, the smoking, it keep me away from the sex."  I laughed at the overweight, balding, mid-30s man with 5 kids and a wife.  What he said was truly unexpected but it wasn't what I thought was keeping him away from "the sex."  

One of my current students, a blond haired, blue eyed German man, is a stock trader back in Germany.  He is only here to get a private license on one of his many 2-week vacations.  The thick German accent makes me laugh inside because it almost seems fake.  At first, I thought he was pulling my leg.  I asked him how he got his job day-trading.  "Afta ze college, I rezeived ahn intenship at ze Deuchbank."  As he was explaining it to me, I had to take every bit of concentration to keep from openly smiling.  When coming back from a cross-country, he started moving around a lot in the cockpit.  I asked if he was ok.  "Ya, but I need very badly to use ze restroom."  So, I pushed the throttle forward and when we landed told him I'd park near the bathrooms.  He looked at me and said straight faced, "Oh, its alright.  The feeling it iz over."   And then with a smirk nudged me his elbow and said, "But you may want to check the ze seat, ya!?"  I laughed not sure if he was joking or not.  It was the first time I'd seen him smile.

What I think is the most striking is the outward borderline unabashed racism that exists in other cultures.  One day I was walking in from a flight and ran into a young man from London who was a student of one of my friends here.  "Chris, how did your student do on his checkride?" he asked in a relatively thick London accent.  I asked which one he was talking about and he replied, "You know, the colored fellow."  I stopped mid-step and looked at him and laughed.  I thought of him walking down the streets of Harlem and asking if anyone had seen the colored fellow he had arrived with.  

I was teasing my one Sri Lankan student a few weeks ago and asking her the difference between an Indian and a Sri Lankan.  In her thick British accent with tinges of what sounds to me like Indian (to my cultured friends, yes, I know it's actually Sri Lankan) she said, "Oh Chris, there are SO many differences!  We are nothing alike!  We are so much better than India."  I asked, besides the language, what is the difference that makes you better.  She said, "Oh, we are pretty much the same." 

Some of the more shocking things come from an Egyptian man.  I was talking to one of my students from Qatar when the Egyptian man walks up.  "Chris, do not listen to him.  He is from Qatar.  They only have 200,000 people.  If we wanted to take them over, we could.  We would march our army there and put them all in one hotel. It would be no problem."  He then went on, "We are not Arab.  We are nothing like the Arab, we are African!" I then asked if he preferred the Nigerians over the Arabs. "No, they are not Africans.  We are Africans.  They black."  Trying to change the subject, I asked how his flying with other students was going.  He said, "Chris, you know, I flew with one guy, he black.  Then, I flew with another student and he black.  Every one I fly with, they black."  Being fairly dark skinned himself, I asked, if he didn't like black people.  "We fly at night and it get dark with them there in the cockpit.  I need white so I can see and not black.  They are not for me."  

A small but significant milestone

It's been quiet here.  I've reached the point where I've gotten into a groove.  I continue to learn new things every day and try to get my students finished in a very timely manner.  An email is sent out asking if anyone wants extra work, I send a reply.  I'm here to work and that's what I do.  It is, however, a grind.

Last week was a rough one.  As you may have seen, we had our first Tropical Storm to hit land for the 2012 Hurricane season.  The first storm, born merely a week early, spun harmlessly off into the Atlantic.  Subtropical Storm Beryl, however, started spinning off the coast near Miami, meandered off-shore until it reached just north of St Augustine, and came barreling into the peninsula.  By storm standards, it wasn't any more rainy than a particularly bad spring day in Ohio nor any more windy than the Chinook winds than blow off the front range in Montana.  It was my first experience with a tropical system and it definitely got my extremely geeky Meteorologist side revved up.

What wasn't fun about the weather was all the flights I had to cancel.  It was fun to look at the radar and read forecast discussions but depressing when the storm stalled over Northern Florida.  The stalled system brought persistent heavy rain and thunderstorms to the area and prevented all but end of course instrument flying.  I had one such student and that was my only saving grace.

I had to make up for the time spent on the ground staring at the radar and rain torrents by working 14 hour days.  On May 31st, exactly 6 years after graduating from the US Air Force Academy, I passed 500 hours of total time.  Now, it isn't as big as getting hired by Delta or FedEx but significant still.  In order to be touched by any company wanting to hire you to fly anything larger than small training aircraft, you need at LEAST 500 hours.  This doesn't mean that I am going to get a job tomorrow nor will there be airlines knocking on my door.  This milestone does take me out of the range of rookie commercial pilot into novice.  I still have plenty to learn and experienced to be gained but the milestone remains significant along my journey.  As I look back at where I was a year ago, I am amazed at how far I've come.  When I was flying through the mountains in Montana, I had a measly 85 hours.  When I think back at how little I knew about aviation and flying back then scares today's me.  I was never in danger by any means but if you told me that my students were doing what I was doing, it would make today me very nervous.

So, where do I go from here?  I keep learning.  I just bought software to start preparing for my ATP rating.  I still have 1000 hours before I can even attempt it, but most companies now require you to pass the written before you can be interviewed.  In all honesty, I'll probably won't take it for quite sometime but it's good to keep studying.  Like I said in the beginning, I learn something new every day.  Until then, I wait.  The next big milestone happens at 1200 hours.  After that, I could be eligible for single-pilot cargo flying.  As you can imagine, that's still a ways away.  Until then, I just grind away.

A Very Bad Friday

"Chris, have you seen your student Abdulla?" the dispatcher asked me when I walked in at 6:45 on Friday morning.  Since I had literally just walked in the door I replied with an inquisitive "No?" The question irritated me.  Technically, he was no longer my student after he passed his instrument check ride.  Why should I know where he was?

"Well, do you have his number?" he asked.  Of course I did.  "You need to give him a call immediately" he barked at me.  My very large coffee mug was still mostly full and I wasn't ready to be yelled at this morning.  So, as is my nature, I became difficult.

 "First off, he isn't my student anymore.  Second, why is this so important.  I highly doubt he's awake" I retorted in a lightly sarcastic tone.  I intended for my comments to come off a very specific way.  In essence, if it wasn't critical, I wasn't going to call and there isn't anything you can do.

"Well, he went out time-building last night with another student.  The plane they took isn't on the ramp but the flight tracker (the one I have shown to you in my previous blogs) shows them arriving at almost 4 this morning." The dispatcher, normally lazily calm, looked nervous.

"Are you sure it's not out there?" I asked.  This may sound like a stupid question but with almost 20 airplanes on the ramp, sometimes you think an airplane isn't there when in fact it is.  He said that the instructor who was supposed to have the plane at 7:00 am walked up and down the ramp with no success.  So, I immediately pulled out my cell phone.

A million bad thoughts started racing through my mind.  I couldn't comprehend how the flight tracker showed them arriving yet they were nowhere to be found.  Maybe they closed their flight plan on approach and decided to do some night sightseeing.  If that was the case, what if they never made it back because they did something stupid and ended up in the ocean or in someone's back yard?  What if they landed and decided to take the plane on a joy ride?  I was the last person who gave him instruction and would be most definitely held responsible.  That isn't even to mention the grief I would feel.  I quickly found his number and dialed.  The other line started to ring; a good sign.  After two rings, the phone was answered.  I could hear rustling as if the phone had been answered prematurely.

"Hello?" Abdulla clearly answered.  So, he was alive.  That's a good start.

"Hey, it's Chris.  Where are.." I was cut off and with a beep the call ended.  I quickly redialed and the call went straight to voice mail.  I repeated this dance several times with no success. This time, a new panic started racing through my mind.  A young man of Arabic descent went on a flight from Florida to South Carolina last night and the airplane was missing.  Now, after what sounded like an inadvertent answering of his cell phone, he was refusing to take my calls.  Shit.  I knew these thoughts were irrational but I couldn't help but think them.

Finally Abdulla called back.  I asked him very calmly where the missing airplane was.  He groggily answered that it was in Daytona.  He said in very broken English that they had engine troubles and were forced to divert.

Panic moments one and two were over.  They were safely on the ground and the airplane was parked securely in Daytona.  I went on my flight and when I got back, I got a whole new series of questions from the dispatcher.  At 9:00, the story went like this:

- Somewhere north of Ormand Beach and south of St Augustine, the two had been cleared to descend from 8000 feet to 4000 feet.
- Upon arriving at 4000 feet, one of the students (still not sure who was flying and who was on the radios yet) added power and the airplane immediately began to sputter and shake.
- Air Traffic Control eventually led them to safe and successful diversion to Daytona Beach International.

So, now people started asking more probing questions.  Maintenance was in for the day and so was most of the administrative office staff.  The initial conclusion from the Monday morning quarterbacks (and in this case Friday morning) was that they were dummies and ran out of gas.  The Cessna is only capable of a little over 6 hours of fuel.  After looking at the track up to Charleston, SC, the flight appeared to have taken a little over 3 hours.  If they didn't get gas (a gross error on the students' part) they wouldn't have enough gas for the return trip.  That isn't even to mention that they were obviously were in violation of the regulations governing instrument flight.

Then people started the rumor that the students had declared an emergency.  Declaring an emergency would not have been a good thing for the students (and probably me either) had the FAA requested a report on why an emergency was declared.  If it was discovered that they had ran out of fuel, we would have most likely been visited by the friendly FAA looking to turn over stones and whatnot.  So I called Abdulla but couldn't get a hold of him again.  It was then that I realized that many major Air Traffic Control centers have live streaming feeds online and some of the larger ones are archived.  So, my next hunt began.  Within 30 minutes, my friend and I had found the audio.

Abdulla had originally claimed that the engine was running rough and that some cylinder temperatures  stopped registering.  Clearly, something was going very wrong for the two young pilots.  My friend and I queued up the audio on my iPad and pushed play.

Abdulla: Daytona Approach.  We are having some problems with our engine.  We would like to divert to Ormand.
ATC: Roger.  You are cleared to the Ormand Beach airport via radar vectors.  Ormand Beach is at your 3 o'clock and 4 miles.  Advise the airport in sight.  Could you repeat was is wrong?
Abdulla:  (in broken english) Our engine, it is having problem.  The 1 and 3 piston is broke.  We need to divert.
ATC: Do you think you can make it to Daytona?  It's at your 10-12 o'clock and 8 miles.
*Some people think Daytona was preparing for a potential crash landing.  Ormand was closed but Daytona has round-the-clock emergency services
Abdulla: We make it to Daytona.
*At this point, after spending quite a bit of time with the young man, I could hear the nervousness in his voice.  His responses were very tense and almost a little shaky.  From what Abdulla had told me on the phone, the engine was sputtering and shaking pretty hard.
ATC: Roger, Turn left to 180.  The airport will be at 12 o'clock and 6 miles.  Report the airport in sight.
Abdulla: (labored pause) Ok, we will advise you when we see the airport.
*Less than a minute passed.  Still no response.
ATC: Sir, I can see you from the tower.  You are still at 4000 feet and need to descend.  Daytona is now at your 12 and 4 miles.  Can you see the runway?
Abdulla: Can you turn on some sort of beacon?
*A slight panic could be heard in his voice.  He was looking for the airport but couldn't see anything.  His engine was shaking the entire airplane and he had to be getting desperate.  I'm sure he knew there was no such beacon (at least I hope he knew) that tower could turn on but he had to ask.  I'm sure he was hoping the tower had fireworks.  At 4 miles and 4000 feet in the air, the airport was almost right below his nose.  He wasn't used to being this close and so high.  Odds are, he was looking at between 10-12 miles in the distance for the runway.  It wasn't there.
ATC: (a slight chuckle was barely audible) Sir, we are turning up the lights as bright as they go right now.  You are still high and need to descend.
Abdulla: (almost yelling) I SEE THE AIRPORT!
ATC: Ok, you are cleared to land on runway 16.

At this point, we still weren't sure what the problem was but we knew for certain that he had not declared an emergency or requested priority nor had he said anything about having low fuel.  All of the above were positive signs.

Within the next few hours, several facts came to light.  Abdulla returned with a fuel receipt from Charleston.  They had, in fact, stopped for gas.  I wanted to be happy for them but knew I shouldn't be happy they did something that they would have otherwise been reckless not to do.  Also, an instructor went up to Daytona before coming into work to try and see if there was really a problem.  When he called back, he reported that there was plenty of gas and that when the engine started, it was shaking pretty bad.  He wasn't even going to try to attempt to fly it the 10 miles back to New Smyrna.

So, the students had done the right thing.  It made me proud to know that my student, who many people often regarded as a screw-up or unmotivated or spoiled, came through in a crisis situation, at least in their limited experience.  Later in the afternoon, Abdulla came in to fill out a safety form.  I asked him to detail exactly what happened.  It turned out that Abdulla was, in fact, the flying pilot.  I asked him why it was him on the radio instead of the other pilot.  He said, "when the piston it fail, I take over."  While it would have benefited him to have someone to split the workload, he was able to focus on the task at hand and landed the airplane safely.  He will make a very good pilot someday and it makes me proud to know that I was one of his instructors who helped him get there.

***************

As Abdulla rolled off the runway after landing at a little before 4:00 am, he called up ground control to request taxi to parking.

ATC: Taxi straight ahead to parking.  SheltAir is right there at your 11 o'clock.

Abdulla keyed the mic and let out a long breath as he repeated the instructions.  The words seemed to just fall out of his mouth as exhaled a long and exaggerated sigh of relief.  They were on the ground safe.  It was over.

Things I've learned

Over the past several months, I've tooled around the sky in a tiny little Cessna Skyhawk.  While this isn't my first choice of jobs, it pays the bills right now; and, it'll hopefully help me get a better one.  So, I've decided after almost a month of not posting to put up a list of things I've learned.  

1: I have a GREAT radio voice

After spending months talking to air traffic controllers, I've noticed that there are two kinds of pilot voices: the ones you cringe at due to their (insert undesirable trait: scratchy, anxious, stuttering, high pitched, broken english, overly drawn out, etc).  When I was doing my commercial time-building, I would envy the airline captains on our frequency because of their smooth, calm, deep and quick calls.  I often would try to emulate their sound but always felt my voice was scratchy and a tad high pitched.  I've determined that this high pitch and anxiety filled sound was due to my inexperience and nervousness.  Since then, I've become a lot more calm in the cockpit.  Don't get me wrong, I still am not half the pilot my USAFA friends are.  At least I feel a lot more confident behind the controls than I used to.  So, one of my friends and I were flying at the same uncontrolled airport and he was kind enough to capture a video of one of my radio calls (more on WHY to follow).  It is kind of jumbled because of the playback function of our overly complex avionics, but you'll hear me at the end clear as day

"Deland Traffic, Skyhawk 6185 Uniform is final for 23.  Deland Traffic." 

After hearing this brief clip, I said to my friend, "DAMN I have a great radio voice!"

2: A little humility goes a LONG way. 

After playing that clip for me, my friend says, "Oh yeah?  Do you notice anything strange about it?"  After replying no, he replayed it for me again.  "Oh, you mean how professional I sound on the radio?  Yeah.  That is strangely awesome."  He laughs at me again and says, "I knew you wouldn't believe me so I had to tape it.  What airplane were you in again today?"

After thinking about it for a second, I realized one important fact.  I was not in Skyhawk 6185U.  I was in 2302 Yankee.  He said he was taking off and flying away from the runway when he heard his airplane's call-sign on the radio and had to tape it for me because he knew I wouldn't believe him.  The pilots in the air over Deland would have been a little confused to hear the same airplane landing and taking-off at the same time.  I may have sounded great but I sounded great at saying the wrong thing. Touche good sir.  Touche.  

3: People are stupid and should not be trusted

I don't have enough fingers to express how many close calls I've had with jumpers and parachute jump planes.  Often times they take off on the wrong runway, climb circling straight up to 14000 feet, and come rocketing back to the ground.  Sometimes, I'm unlucky enough to have them cut me off and even once almost hit me.  "Jump plane, did you see me?"  "Oh, there was someone in the pattern?"  "Yes, you literally were 20 feet from hitting us."  So, lesson learned.  Keep your head on a swivel because when it comes to douche pilots, no one else exists but them.

4: Birds almost always lose when playing chicken with airplanes

Two months ago, a twin-engine Embry Riddle aircraft (made mostly of fiberglass) was flying around our airport when he had an encounter with one of the turkey vultures that likes to hang out right off the end of our runways.  The very large bird lost the battle with the airplane's wing, but not without leaving a mark.  When the pilot and his student landed, the damage was clearly seen by the basketball-sized hole it left in the leading edge of the wing.  The control surface push rods had been adequately protected by the frame of the wing but airplanes aren't designed to fly with holes in them where they normally aren't any.  

In the middle of April, I was out flying around with one of my private pilot students and she was lined up to land.  It was a long and stressful day for her preparing for her check ride.  She had been urgently scolded a few times for forgetting things she learned on day one and was looking a bit fatigued by the flight.  When we were about 600 feet above the ground, a bird came into view circling erratically above the airplane.  The most important thing to know about birds is that when they are spooked in the air, they dive.  As a pilot, this is useful because if we know they dive, we can pitch the nose up for a second right before the potential strike.  Most times the birds dive harmlessly below. 

I could tell right away that she didn't see the bird.  I quickly glanced at her eyes and she was intently locked in on the runway (something I'd warned her against).  With my eyes back on the bird, I saw it get spooked.  Unfortunately, it was still too far above the airplane for us to climb.  The dive would send it right into the prop.  As the yet undetermined-sized bird dove, I heard the girl let out a little shriek.  I put my hand on the yoke and pushed briskly forward.  I wanted to see if we could get below the bird, and most importantly, away from the prop, but I reacted a hair too late.  The bird dove straight at me and struck the windshield right at where my head was.  Having seen birds go through fiberglass in the past, I knew that if it was big enough, it could go through my windshield.  I ducked down behind my control panel as I saw it strike my windshield.  A loud thud and it was gone.

Deep breath.  The girl was visibly shaken up.  I calmly told her, "my controls."  She eagerly let them go.  I looked back at the windshield and saw a small red streak.  It's possible that the bird stayed intact during the collision.  I knew our communications antennas were directly above my seat so my first thought was to be sure we didn't lose our radios.  "Tower, Epic 555.  We just had a bird strike on final."  "Roger Epic 555, do you need assistance?"  Not really I thought.  I just wanted to test my radio and that was the only thing that came to mind.  Also, something else was weighing on my mind, the Embry-Riddle aircraft.  I didn't feel anything after the initial strike but I couldn't be sure it didn't strike my tail and damage my rudder or elevator.  I wasn't going to take any chances that close to the ground.  Again, I didn't think anything was wrong, but I'd rather play it safe.  "Negative, but we're going to keep our speed up and land long."

As the controller started informing the other airplanes in the pattern and ground stopped a few others waiting to take-off, I turned to my student and asked if she were okay.  Her eyes were a little watery and she still looked shaken up.  She asked if I would land the airplane.  I told her we would be fine and I knew the bird more than likely bounced off the windshield and fell behind us.  We came in a little fast and floated longer than normal.  As we touched down, the controller asked if we could make it off the runway.  "Affirmative.  Everything seems normal."  "Roger, right at alpha, contact ground."  

In hind sight, it wasn't that big of an incident.  Maintenance walked around the airplane and found a few spots of blood on the windshield and top of the wing.  As the bird was diving toward us, I could tell it wasn't the large turkey vultures and I was thankful.  Had it struck my prop, it could have damaged the prop and splattered the windshield with blood.  It's hard not being able to see.  Even worse, if it went through the windshield...