Delays and Missed Connections, the Why

Most of the stories start the same.  You're sitting behind your computer screen at work or home.  It's 10 degrees outside and only January.  Two more months of winter, you sigh to yourself as you stare out the window at the mounds of snow that have set up "temporary" living quarters on every horizontal surface.  It takes a few minutes to get the motivation to return your gaze to the computer screen where the internet browser has been sitting idly open to your homepage.  Too late.  You can't remember why you wanted to get on the internet in the first place.

As you sluggishly move your cursor to open Facebook for the 100th time today, the rotating newsfeed on the homepage news/search/spam you never bothered to reset pops up a picture of a white sand beach with the title "Top 10 Cheapest Vacation Destinations for 2014." That's when the idea pops in your head.  The bank account is a little fatter than normal from lack of use this winter and with the Christmas bonus, you might have enough for an impromptu vacation!  You've had enough of this disgusting white snow and would like to exchange it for some warm white sand.  There is only one question that remains: "How much will it cost me?"

The deal hunter in you goes into action.  You scour travel websites like Expedia, Priceline and Kayak looking for the absolute lowest price.  Of course there aren't any direct flights from your local airport to the warmth of Palm Beach so you look for the quickest and cheapest route to get you to the Sunshine State.  After an hour of browsing, two options remain.  The first flight leaves at 5:00 am with an arrival of 10:00am while the second leaves at noon and get you in just before happy hour starts on the beach.  After minutes of consideration, you ditch the 5:00am flight because it's a few dollars more expensive and your room wouldn't be ready that early anyways. If you leave at noon, you get to sleep longer AND save money.  Your fate is sealed when you click "purchase ticket." No turning back now.

****

"What's wrong with that," you might be asking.  There is nothing technically incorrect with the way in which you came to your conclusion but it is perplexing that you did so little research before purchasing your ticket other than how much it costs.  I know people who spend months looking at reviews of televisions before spending the $400 to buy it and others who defend spending a little extra to ensure you receive a quality product.  When it comes to air travel, nearly every single casual traveler just cares about one single thing: cheap.  The next thing?  When do I have to wake up and when do I get there.  

In a time when margins are tighter, this mentality is understood but it leads to you unknowingly rolling the dice on your vacation.  Sometimes behind the scenes, there are forces working against you and had you done a little more research and spent a little more upfront, you might save yourself hundreds of dollars and days of frustration. 

What should you be looking for?  The answer to that question is complicated.  Of all the mistakes you can make, the one that is most understated is purchasing a ticket with under an hour layover.  Your hastiness in buying a ticket and your hatred of airports has tricked your mind into booking yourself on a regional jet with a 40-minute connection in Chicago in February on United.  Seasoned business travelers have all collectively groaned because they learned that lesson the hard way long ago.  This is the story of "why" that is a bad idea.

Chicago O'Hare is one of the busiest airports in the United States second only to Atlanta.  A major hub airport for both United and American, Chicago also boasts some of the worst winter weather in the country.  During an average day, Chicago will process 3200 operations.  When broken down and spread over 24 hours, that equates to 1 arrival per minute.  At peak times (between noon and 6pm), the airport can and does handle up to 114 arrivals per hour or two arrivals per minute during good weather.  In bad weather, capacity is slowed to 75% their optimum rate.  So what does this have to do with you?

When you book a ticket, there is no way to know if the weather will be bad on any particular day.  Scheduled flight times are averages and will often include some small fudge factors to account for time of day or seasonal effects of flight times.   They do not take into account potential ground delays, deicing, or ATC flow control.  These are unfortunate events that the airline and traveler have to just take as they come.

You decided to pack a carry-on rolling suitcase for this trip to save yourself the $70 round trip and as you board the plane as scheduled, things are looking up.  You'll get to Chicago and have 45 minutes to get to your next gate.  Heck, it looks like they may even be taking off a little early leaving you time to get a snack while you wait to board.  You and 35 other people leave your luggage planeside since your regional jet is not permitted to have them in the passenger cabin, take a seat and settle in for a nap.

Up front, the mentality is a lot different.  As we scour the documents and weather into Chicago, we already know what is going to happen.  Weather is moving in from the southwest and we are pushing the gate agents to take off early to avoid a ground stop.  During significant weather conditions, Chicago will inform the FAA that no more airplanes are permitted to take off anywhere in the country if their destination is Chicago.  Shocked?  Don't be. This happens regularly.  I have personally encountered a ground delay or ground stop 4 times in the month of January alone.

Luckily, your airplane leaves early and soon you are enjoying your soda blissfully unaware that the engines have spooled down earlier than normal.  "Do not exceed 280 knots for spacing into Chicago," Air Traffic Control informs us as we work the power back to a lower setting.  Here's what is happening:

The picture above is a general depiction of the arrival corridors into Chicago when landing to the west.  It's not quite as simple as a straight line from one airport to another. Assuming you're coming from St Louis, you'll enter the arrival as far away as 150 miles southwest of the airport and get sequenced for landing and assigned a runway.  On a normal day, Chicago operates 3 arrival runways and 3 departure runways.

The "West Flow" is how you're approaching Chicago today.  On a normal day, ATC advises us to "keep our speed up."  We'll approach from the southwest at over 350 MPH until we're within 50 miles.  On this particular day, your airplane is already about 60 mph slower than normal.  It isn't unheard of to be as much as 100 MPH slow. "Slow now to 200 knots," your pilots are instructed.  The reason isn't stated but we are getting automated updates and know the weather at the airport is deteriorating and runways are closing so snow crews can begin the snow removal process.

As runways are closed, operations are consolidated.  Already departures have been limited to 2 runways by the bad weather and no longer can the airport allow for separate arriving and departing runways. Normally, arriving aircraft can be spaced to land at 2-3 minute intervals.  If snow starts falling, spacing will increase to 3-4 minutes as aircraft take longer to stop and get off the runway.  If departures are moved to an arrival runway, landing airplanes may need to be spaced 6 minutes apart to allow airplanes to takeoff.  On really windy days in the Windy City, the crosswind runways (the diagonal ones) are used essentially going from a 6 runway operation to two.  You can see how things can start back up quickly.

Luckily for you, only two runways are closed and your airplane is assigned the furthest north landing runway, Runways 27R.  You should've landed 5 minutes ago but haven't even heard the landing gear come down yet.  By the time you finally make it the ground, the airplane is 10 minutes late.  On a bad weather day in Chicago, that's early.  You've beat the rush.

You smile to yourself as you'll have 35 minutes to catch your outbound flight.  Unfortunately, there is more bad news that only the pilots can see.  You've landed but on the north runway.  Here is what your taxi will look like:

Here is the standard taxi route from the north runway to gate B22 in Chicago.  Depending on the weather conditions and congestion on the ground, you can expect to taxi between 15-25 mph.  For those doing the math, it's going to take at least 15 minutes once you land to get to your gate.  If you'd gotten the runway just north of the terminal, the taxi time would be 3 minutes.  These things aren't controlled by your airline but by demand on the air traffic controllers.  Occasionally I've gotten taxi shortcuts but most times we get the standard route.

So, you've landed and you don't know it yet, but you probably will get to the gate almost 30 minutes behind schedule.  Today you're lucky.  Gate B22 didn't have anyone departing before you arrive so it's open.  Since deicing occurs at the gate in Chicago, many times the gates are occupied when we land.  Have you ever seen planes just parked as you taxi by?  That's what we refer to as the "penalty box."  If your gate had been occupied when you landed, you would get to park there until one opens up.  Chicago actually has several penalty boxes.  If you get assigned the wrong one, you'll have to "take a lap" as we call it sending you the long way around the airport to get to your gate.  In really bad weather, that's at least a 15 minute journey.  I've had it to take a lap to get to my departure runway causing us to spend as much as 45 minutes on the ground before becoming airborne.

When you arrive at the gate, the Captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign and you jump up to grab your bags with the rest of the 65 people on the airplane trying to make their connections.  You protest because your flight leaves in 15 minutes but other people don't care.  Their one hour or more connection just got cut by 30 minutes as well.  You rush out of the door to get your carry-on but more bad news awaits.

Remember how you didn't want to spend $70 to check your bag or the $30 extra dollars for an earlier flight with a longer layover?  This is where it comes back to bite you.  During the non-holiday travel seasons, you're accompanied by primarily business travelers who also gate check their bags.  So, now you have to wait as the ramp crew unloads 35 bags from the airplane and moves them up to the jet bridge.  Most airport infrastructure was designed for almost all bags to be checked at the ticket counter and, when there are a lot of gate checked bags, this process becomes time consuming and tedious.  I've seen it take upwards of 10-15 minutes for all the bags to be unloaded in the jet bridge.

You finally catch a break and almost jump for joy when you see your bag come out first.  It's still been about 5 minutes since you parked and your connecting flight leaves in 10 minutes.  You nearly run to grab it then jog into the airport looking for the nearest monitor to see where your departing flight is awaiting.  No break to be caught here.  You're going to gate F12, literally 3/4 of a mile away (I mapped the distance online).  At a full out run, you might be able to do it in 5 minutes but you're pulling a carry-on bag and a bookbag on your shoulders.  Realistically, it'll probably take you at least 10 minutes just to walk to your gate.  If you're older, it could take up to 15 minutes.

Remember that the airplane has to be out of the gate at the scheduled time so gate agents will usually try to stop boarding 5-10 minutes prior.  You've now missed your flight and things even went partially your way during the bad weather event.  There wasn't a ground delay and you didn't have to deice at your home airport.  You didn't have to fly circles over Chicago, also called a hold, waiting for an arrival slot.  Your gate wasn't occupied when you landed and you didn't have to wait for rampers to park your airplane. You got your bags first and you were on a small airplane to begin with.  If you'd flown on a larger plane, the lowest priced tickets are near the back.  It could take 15 minutes to get out of the back of one of those as you watch the painful process of old people pulling 30 pound bags out from over their head.  Had your connection been an hour, you would have made it by the skin of your teeth.  There was a chance that your outbound flight could be delayed as well, but that's a roll of dice.  I can't even count the number of times I've been on a delayed flight while my connecting flight was on-time.  It is maddening and always seems to be fighting against you.

Now what?  Well, since weather caused you to miss your flight, the airline will not get you a hotel room, assuming any are available as hundred of people are beginning to miss their connecting flights.  If the snow continues, crews will begin timing out and flights will get canceled.  Hundreds turn into a thousand people.  Assuming you put your email address down when you booked your tickets, your updated itinerary will be emailed to you automatically.  If you didn't, you'll have to wait in an incredibly long line to find out when you can leave next.

Feeling lucky?  Unfortunately for you, there aren't anymore flights to Palm Beach tonight.  The last one was canceled or oversold.  You're booked out first thing in the morning and will either have to sleep in the airport or get a hotel room for the night.  Just hope that the weather doesn't cause rolling cancellations like on dozens of occasions across the country so far this winter.

So, what can you do to help yourself out?  Be an informed consumer.  Just because you think all form of air travel is created equal does not mean that is the reality.  Here are some helpful hints when booking your flights:

1) Know when and where you're flying.  If you absolutely have to connect through places like Chicago, New York, and Detroit in the winter, make sure your connection is at the very least an hour.  If I was spending my own money, I wouldn't be comfortable with anything less than an hour and a half.  The same can be said of southern and tornado alley airports like Atlanta, Houston, and Dallas in the spring and summer

2)  Know what kind of airplane you're flying on and what seats are available.  Many websites will allow you to see the available seats at the time of purchase.  Are the only seats available in row 35?  Better make sure your layover isn't 30 minutes.  Don't count on your fellow travelers being courteous.  My friend Katy and Richard witnessed people not letting paramedics onto the airplane when they landed in Europe to help a woman with a medical emergency.  Are you flying on a regional jet aircraft?  These aircraft are scheduled to fly more frequently because their bottom lines are far more sensitive.  Unfortunately, they are also more exposed to rolling delays.  Oh, and they also account for well over 50% of the domestic flying.

3)  Know the performance of your particular flight.  If it isn't published on the website you're using to book your flight, there are many apps and websites that do publish on-time performance.  Do you have a 30 minute connection in Minneapolis on a Wednesday?  See how it performs before you buy.  I've seen a flight be 75% On-time while 15% of the time, the aircraft is delayed 45 minutes to an hour.  Are you comfortable knowing there's a nearly 1/5 chance you won't make your connection?  Even if you book on United.com, there are very broad "On-Time Performance" statistics published.  The free App called "FlightTrack" publishes statistics in 15 minute increments.

Unfortunately, there are times like the situation I described earlier where you just couldn't catch all the breaks.  What can you do to save yourself money once you get to the airport?

1) Check the weather before you drive to the airport.  If it is bad enough, sometimes airlines will allow you to rebook or cancel for free.  Better to do that than try to fly into a Hurricane.

2) Expect the unexpected.  Eat before you arrive and bring food in your bag in case your hour connection turns into a 4 hour connection.  TSA has limited liquids, not sandwiches.  Being stuck in a place like Chicago is expensive.  The cheapest food of any substance is a small sandwich and it costs $8.  As if you needed me to tell you airport food is expensive.

3)  Take responsibility for your own travel and think outside the box.  Use your smartphone to your advantage. Are you for sure going to miss your connecting flight?  Talk to the gate agent at your hometown airport.  They are already rebooking your ticket so you might ask to spend another night at home versus on the floor of the airport in Chicago.  Don't forget that they might not all be as motivated as you'd like them to be.  They deal with hundreds of angry and needy passengers everyday.  Plus, their primary job is to get you on the plane, not to do booking.  Sometimes suggesting you go through another city like Houston or New York might get you there today.

4)  Related to number 3 above, don't be a prick.  The people you are talking to are probably making less than $10/hr and are only giving you information they get from their little computers.  You'll never talk to someone at Operations and there is no "nationwide tracking software" for airplanes.  Is your airplane showing on-time but it hasn't left the airport it's coming from yet?  The agents don't control the departure board or gate screen or the airline.  I can't tell you how many times people yell and call them liars.  If they tell you they don't know, they honestly don't know.  If the computer is telling them on-time, who are they to say it won't be?  Maybe they are going to pull an airplane from the hanger and use a reserve crew to fly it.  Sometimes those decisions are being made at completely different companies than United Airlines (e.g. the regional carriers).  Want them to go out of their way to help?  Attacking them personally isn't going to get it done.  Oh, and really want to yell at a brick wall?  Complain to or yell at a pilot or flight attendant.  The only thing they have control of is whether to give you an extra soda.

Unfortunately, you can expect more delays and cancellations into the summer and into the near future.  With an impending pilot shortage, regional airlines are having a hard time staffing their cockpits.  When flying in a $15-$300 million jet burning no less than 600 gallons of jet fuel an hour ($65 a minute), just be glad your ticket costs probably costs marginally more than you'd pay for gas if you drove it.  In fact, you're paying 50% less than you paid 30 years ago.  

The Storm of the Quarter-Century

December 31st

Christmas Day was spent with my iPad as I watched my family in Ohio open presents and get ready for Christmas dinner.  At first glance, that probably sounds pretty sad but it's much better than the alternative of sitting at home alone without any interaction at all.  To be completely honest, it felt as if I were there except I had no presents to open and I didn't get the eat my family's delicious Christmas Dinner.  It was a Chinese buffet for me!

My friend Shane was getting married in Grand Rapids, Michigan on the following Saturday so I headed up to take part in the festivities.  Richard, my friend who I talked extensively about in a previous blog (What is Fair?), his wife and their relatively newborn son, my Godson, also made the trip to Grand Rapids.  The last time I'd seen him was as he was sitting in the NICU after being born 6 weeks early.

It was an incredible three days in the bitter cold of Western Michigan and such a beautiful wedding...not mention a beautiful bride!  Unfortunately, the fun ended all too soon as the Caitlyn and Shane headed off to Hawaii.  I had to catch the early morning flight back to St Louis the following day.

The 31st, though, was a different story.  Just as soon as the sun was beginning to rise over the Gateway City, my phone rang.  "Chris, we have a trip for you."  This wasn't a surprise.  It was almost expected that I would be working New Years Eve.  "You're going to be overnighting in Harrisburg with an 11 am show the following morning.  You should be back in St Louis by 4 pm the next day."

I copied down my flight information but knew this wasn't going to be as simple as a single overnight.  I still had 5 days remaining on-call.  Just as I usually do when I'm getting ready, I turned on The Weather Channel to see what the next two days would be bringing me as I was ringing in the new year in eastern Pennsylvania.

When I finished shaving, I turned off the water and immediately heard ominous music coming from my television.  This was the Weather Channel, right?  The only times they play horror movie music is when hurricanes are bearing...I stopped my thought there and walked to my living room.  I arrived in time for them to tease a winter storm that would be setting its aim at the Plains in the next few days. Its expected arrival in the Midwest was on the 4th--my final day of reserve. I still have 5 days on-call, I thought to myself again.  This was going to get interesting.

Just as I expected, the following three days included much more flying.  When I awoke in Dayton, Ohio on the 3rd, things had started to deteriorate in the Central part of the country and the Weather Channel was spouting doom and gloom.  "We expect as much as 14 inches of snow in places like St Louis and Chicago over the next two days with record breaking temperatures to follow," one anchor warned.  As a meteorologist, I'm always a little skeptical of the all-mighty Weather Channel. They are paid by how many people watch and what better way to get more viewers than to warn that the end is near?

On the 3rd, they routed me back to St Louis for a short 10-hour overnight.  As I got off the plane, I overheard people in the gate area talking about the grocery stores in St Louis and how bread and milk were almost completely sold out.  They went to several different stores, the people said, and none had any.  Many here were clearly taking this storm seriously.  On the drive home, digital displays over the highway were warning of a winter storm.  The last thing I wanted to do after 6 days on the road was get stuck.

I had been assigned a one day trip in the morning scheduled to arrive back in St Louis well after the storm was supposed to start.  Massive delays were imminent and with the implementation of new FAA imposed rest rules the same day, I knew the 4th was going to get ugly.  I checked my schedule one last time before bed.  It was going to be a deadhead leg (ride in the back) to Chicago.  Then I was going to fly from Chicago to St Louis to Dulles and then deadhead back to St Louis at 9:00pm.  What does this mean?  With the storm set to be draped over Cleveland, Chicago, and down into northern Texas, I was going to spend the entire day in the snow.

January 4th

It was already a brutal winter with so many people stranded following the storms before Christmas and they knew it wasn't going to get any better over the next few days.  The sun was still peeking through the clouds but the day's early snow flurries showed that the storm, not scheduled to arrive until tonight, was going to be a snowy one.

When we arrived in Chicago, I went to a food court to try and kill some of the two hours I had to wait until my flight was scheduled to depart.  The sad stories I overheard of people sleeping in airports and missing Christmas confirmed how bad this winter has been for traveling.  These people were returning home after the holidays and some were unknowingly going to get a second dose of winter.

When I arrived at my gate, the scheduled departure time was starting to creep further into the future.  When I left the food court, it was showing on time but by the time I arrived at the gate, it had moved to a 30 minute delay.  Over the next hour the time kept getting pushed back in increments of 10 but after an hour, the updates stopping coming.  I stood there and watched as people anxiously checked their watches and grumbled to themselves.  Here I was, the enemy, a company man.  I was part of the problem.  "Are you waiting for a flight too?  I bet we don't even have pilots when the plane arrives." One woman snarked at me.  I informed her that I was one of the pilots for that flight and her tone immediately changed.  "Oh, you're a pilot?  For this flight? Well,that's good!"  Of course I'm a pilot.  Why else would I be wearing this uniform?

After an hour and a half, the airplane we were supposed to be on was still sitting in Michigan.  That's not good.  It should've left long ago if we are going to get out at the new departure time.  After one last refresh of the browser, the red CANCELED popped up.

I immediately called scheduling.  They were deadheading me back to St Louis on a later flight so I could still work DC flight. When I checked the departure board to find my new gate, more and more flights were getting canceled.  In fact, the three remaining flights to St Louis, only one remained.  Luckily, because I needed to get back to fly, I was booked as a 'Must-Ride,' meaning that paying passengers are bumped so that I get a seat.  No one else knew that as a horde of people from the canceled flights rushed to the next gate to beg to list as standby or get rebooked.

When we (the horde and I) arrived at the gate, there was already a line.  One girl started crying.  "What am I going to do?" she weeped to herself in the middle of the terminal.  I stood there in silence watching the drama unfold.  There was nothing I could do for these people even though everything inside me wanted to.

"You don't understand," one man pleaded with the agent, "I NEED to get to St Louis."  He apparently thought he was the only man in the airport needing to be somewhere and was unaware that there were now 150 people at the gate needing to be in St Louis but only 64 seats. At that moment, an airplane pulled up to the gate, a regional jet like the one we were supposed to be on.  People started cheering, most blissfully unaware that our airplane hadn't even departed Minnesota yet.  I looked out the window and it was indeed the wrong airplane.  It was also then that I realized how much snow was falling.  There was already an inch on the ground and it was falling so heavily that you could barely see the terminal on the other side of the ramp.  Another pilot and I attempted to try and explain to some of them that this wasn't our airplane but they refused to listen.

The Captain of the misidentified airplane, one from my company, walked through the gate door and up to me.  "We're repositioning this airplane (meaning it was flying empty) to Dulles.  Do you need a ride?"  I wanted to say yes but was still waiting for the last flight to St Louis.  "Okay, well if anything changes, we shouldn't be leaving for another 30 minutes."

Several minutes after the Captain disappeared down the jetway, one Army Private in uniform stood up and started swearing. "You've got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME! It's canceled!  Now what!"  I should have been surprised by his audacious display of anger but it wasn't the first time I'd seen someone in uniform have an outburst in an airport.  He was right about one thing though; the flight was canceled.  I called scheduling again to see what they wanted to do with me.  This time, the phone just kept ringing.  I tried back several times before anyone answered.

Back at headquarters, things were starting to deteriorate.  When I finally was connected, I asked the scheduler what they wanted to do with me now.  She sounded flustered separating most of her words with "uh" and "um."  In the background, I heard someone speaking loudly.  "Give me a second.  I'll call you back. We just got word that the city is shutting down operations in Chicago tonight for three days."

Holy shit...they're doing what?  I stood there, mouth open.  Shutting down a major international airport like Chicago, a hub for two of the world's largest airlines, United and American, meant that things were going to be worse than expected.  "Wait!" I blurted as panic started to creep in, "There is a repo flight at the gate in front of me, tail number 835, going to Dulles.  I can catch the last flight out of there tonight if I have to.  I don't care, I just want out of Chicago."  She agreed and sent me catch the flight.  I left the burgeoning chaos of the airport and met the Captain in the flight deck.  Just as I was walking back to have a seat, the phone rang again.

"Chris, you need to get off the airplane.  We are missing two First Officers and might need you to work a flight out of Chicago tonight."  My stomach sank.  The word "might" had me concerned.  If they find them, I'll be stuck here. If it takes too long, I might not even have a hotel room for the next 3 days.  I walked back up to the Captain and asked when they would be leaving.  He told me that as soon as they could shut the door, they were getting out of there.  I grabbed my suitcase and sulked off the airplane.  The last thing I wanted to do right now was face the angry mass of humanity in Chicago.

All I could do at this point was wait.  The longer I waited, though, the worse things were going to get.  I heard more people yelling behind me.  One group of passengers had just walked up from below the terminal.  Apparently, they were taxiing to the runway and had to return when one of pilots "timed out."  He'd reached the end of his duty day and it was now illegal for him to continue.  Unfortunately for them, there were no longer any gates and they had to be bussed back from a remote parking pad.

The angry mob was being lead by a young Navy Officer dressed in his khaki uniform and black pea coat.  He stood there and pointed his finger at the "A-team" customer service agent and demanded they bring their bags to them immediately.  "Send someone down here right now to get our stuff.  We are not moving from here until you do!"  He turned on his cell phone camera to record the man's response.  As he did, another man in the mob started demanding they send someone down to the gate to rebook them.

"I'm sorry sir, you're going to have to go down to the customer service counter like everyone else for your rebooking," the surprisingly calm man said.  He wasn't just any normal agent.  He was wearing a suit and an earpiece.  It appeared like he was the corporate version of crowd control.  Another woman became hysterical and started screaming at the man.  Others chimed in and demanded they go first in the line.  This wasn't weather, they said, this was YOUR fault!  "Ma'am, two international flights were just cancelled.  Why do you think you're more important than every single one of them?"

The crowd had become irrational and continued to blame the suited man for all the problems. It was then that I heard someone in the back say something about 5 hours.  "Yes, right now the wait is 5 hours.  We've called in as many people as we can find but the weather is preventing many from arriving.  Others have called in sick.  We are doing the best we can."  The agent looked at the man taping him and said, "Oh, and thanks for recording me man."  The officer yelled back a trite you're welcome and it was then that the agent saw he was uniformed military. He hesitated a moment before thanking him politely for his service.  I wouldn't have.

The wait is 5 hours?... I need out of here!

My phone rang.  "We have you on a reposition flight back to St Louis.  I've called the crew and they are waiting for you at gate B19.  The Captain wants to know how soon you can be there."  Minutes! I jumped up and yanked the charger out of the wall.  Hastily, I stuffed it in my bag and briskly left the gate area touching each one of my pockets to ensure I had everything.  As I made my way to the other end of the terminal, I weaved in and out of groups of people yelling at their cellphones.  One woman swore at me as I walked by; others in her group did their best to calm her down.  People were laying on the ground using clothes out of their carry-on bags as blankets and pillows.  The bars were full of angry, drunk passengers.

It wasn't long before I walked up to an empty gate where my plane was sitting.  When I walked through the main cabin door, I saw 6 other crew members sitting in the back.  They were escaping the chaos as well.

I sat down and buckled my seatbelt.  The pilot next to me spoke up.  "I just got off the phone with a friend of mine in the aircraft next to us.  They are repositioning the plane to DC.  He said there are 30 crew members  on that plane.  Looks like they are getting as many crews and planes out while they still can."  Airplanes don't make money frozen to the ground in Chicago (something that actually happened when operations started again days later) so the companies were spending a lot of money to move aircraft to areas where they could fly.

As the airplane was backing away from the terminal, I couldn't help but think of the anarchy I was leaving.  Many of the people, including airline employees, didn't know the airport was shutting down for 3 days.  Worse yet, it was late enough in the evening that most wouldn't get hotel rooms.  The stranded passengers would be without homes for days, trapped away from their families and jobs.  I understood their frustration and while I felt sadness for them, I was glad I was escaping.  I felt like one of the lucky survivors of the zombie apocalypse.  The cabin of our plane was quiet, the first I'd heard in almost 6 hours.  As the engines roared to life, I leaned against the window and slept.

****

It was one of the worst storms of the last 25 years.  Many people I talked to were looking back to 1983, the year I was born, to find anything similar.  Chicago, true to their word, shut the airport down but they weren't the only ones.  Cleveland, New York, Boston, and Detroit stopped or severely limited service.  The morning after, over 4000 flights across the country were canceled.  Luckily for me, I was sitting at home watching it all on the news. More than a foot of snow fell on St Louis forcing the city to shut down for the next two days.  The only businesses open were gas stations and the occasional mostly empty grocery store.

Two days later, I flew one of the first waves of United Express flights back into Chicago.  When I walked into the terminal I was so happy to leave 3 nights ago, I glanced at the Departures board.  More than half of the flights were still being canceled.  Here is a picture of the Departures board when I arrived early in the morning:

The storm had left airplanes and crews stranded and out of place.  At our airline alone, pilots were trapped in Cleveland, Roanoke, and Rochester for 2 days.  The weather was holding them and their airplanes hostage.  An email was sent out to our pilot group begging for volunteers to fly but with the new rest rules imposed by the FAA, many could not.  I flew for the next 4 days straight picking up the slack from timed-out or out of place crews but it wasn't enough.  As late as the 9th, 5 days after the storm, flights were still being cancelled.  It wasn't until the 11th, an entire week after the storm hit, were operations back to normal.  Even then, flights were still completely full as passengers rebooked during the chaos were just now getting home.  As I look back, part of me knows that no one handled the Great New Year's Storm of 2014 well, but considering the circumstances, I don't think any of us could have handled it better.

Merry Christmas From 35,000 Feet

The door slid open silently in front of me.  I entered the St Louis International Airport knowing that I had to pay my dues.  As the new guy in an industry that operates year round, I knew that I would be joining my 24/7 collegues at hospitals, in police cars and in fire houses across the country missing out on the blissful serenity of huddling up near crackling fireplaces with family.  It's a time for opening presents, watching movies, or just enjoying a hot cup of cocoa in anticipation of the festivities of Christmas Day.  This year, Christmas Eve would not exist in traditional form but that will come at the end of the story.

My cellphone ringing awakened me.  As a pilot on reserve, I am at the whims of the company.  Is a pilot sick or a plane broken?  Chris Boyes to the rescue.  My schedule is erratic at best and the same could be said in the days leading up to Christmas.  In the 6 days prior to and including Christmas, I was 'on-call.'  I answered the phone while simultaneously checking the time.  It was 4:00 AM.  "Hi Chris?  This is Laurie from scheduling.  We have a trip for you leaving in 2 hours.  It's a 3-day with overnights in Memphis and Cincinnati.  Do you need me to read you the details?"  I didn't.  I could login to the scheduling website to get any information I needed.  No need to waste time pretending to copy details down.  In reality, everything after "show up in 2 hours" was completely irrelevant to me.  After some very quick public math, I realized the end of this trip would be on Christmas Eve.  "One more thing, sorry.  Because you get in late on the 24th, we are moving your morning reserve to evening reserve on the 25th.  Have a safe trip."  Before I had time to say anything, the line was dead.  It was clear that she was waiting to save the best news for last.  Being the new guy, I understood.  She wouldn't be getting any grief from me.

That is how I found myself walking through the entry doors of St Louis Lambert International Airport. It was eerily quiet at 5:30 AM except for the click-clack of my suitcase, cooler, and flight kit as I towed it across the tile of the Arrival-Level of the airport where I had been dropped off.  Burl Ives belted "Holly Jolly Christmas" in what seemed like a concert just for me.  With the terminal completely empty here, it was almost inappropriately loud.

Coffee in hand, I passed through the special "Crewmember Only" back entrance of security before I made my way to the Departures information board.  Oddly enough, no one can seem to agree where St Louis should appear alphabetically in airports.  Sometimes it appears before San Antonio using the non-abbreviated  spelling of "Saint" but abbreviating it on the display while other times it appears after Seattle.  I wouldn't have to play this little personal game of "Where's Waldo" for a few days in Houston when I finally make my way back home.  Today, I had to find Chicago.  I made my way to the gate, typed in my code and left the oddly quiet Christmas travelers behind me.

****

"Brakes set, Shutdown checklist," the Captain said to me as we parked in Chicago.  We quickly ran through the items as I reached back to unlock the door.  As it swung open, I was hit with a bitter cold unlike anything I had felt since leaving Montana several years prior.  I quickly reached up to turn on the heat forcing the air conditioning units to scream to life.  If you've ever flown on a small jet like ours, you've probably been keenly aware of the ear-piercing screeching present as you board from the ground.  That's how we get heat/cold into the cabin. 

I finished putting away some of my charts and started getting ready for our next leg as passengers deplaned.  After the last one left, I did my best to bundle up and glanced down at the outside temperature gauge on our display unit.  It read a chilling -13 C.  After doing some quick mental math, I realized that it was less than 10 degrees Fahrenheit.  As I left the warm confines of my seat, I ventured outside to do a post-flight walk-around. In the minutes I spent making sure nothing had fallen off during the flight, the whipping Chicago wind tore at my face and ears. The humid cold wind made it feel like it was well below zero.  I walked back into the airplane and saw another crew standing there.  

"We're taking your plane."  With almost 2 hours to wait in Chicago, swapping planes isn't uncommon but usually done if there is a maintenance issue. "Ours is broken.  They couldn't close the cargo door.  Well, I mean yours.  It's yours now."  

After gathering our gear, we left the safety of our airplane and walked into the terminal.  Instead of quiet, I was greeted with near-chaos.  The soothing Christmas music was drowned out by humanity.  At the gate, there was a line of 20 people some yelling angrily at their cellphones.  One woman appeared to be pleading for her life to the gate agent as if he were her executioner.  Well, I guess we found the Christmas rush.  We walked to the information board to find our flight to Memphis.  The 8-40" TVs pretending to be computer monitors were littered with yellows and reds.  The words Delayed and Canceled made the normally bland displays ironically festive.  The subzero temperatures and snow across the north and east were having devastating effects to the schedules.  This was going to be a long three days.

My Captain ran off to grab some breakfast and told me to meet him at our broken airplane.  I wondered off alone into the angry crowd.  Most people were too engrossed in their iPods, iPads, iBooks, or iSleeping to acknowledge my existence.  Some though, were intent on letting me know how displeased they were that they wouldn't get home on time with looks and, even more shockingly, with words.  

"Hey MAN!" One man snarkingly barked at me from the customer service line.  "Can YOU fly my airplane to Cincinnati?  Or are you like the rest of these worthless pilots and are TIRED!"  I pretended not to hear him as I walked through the terminal.  I guess being on duty for 16 hours isn't enough for this man.  I understood his frustration and also understood that engaging him would only make matters worse so I walked on.  

"Excuse me sir, are you a pilot?"  Another man frantically asked me.  After responding affirmatively, he came back and said "Oh thank God!  You can definitely help me."  After a long winded story about how he sat at his gate for 6 hours without someone telling him his flight was cancelled, I unloaded a bunch of "I'm sorry but I can't help yous."  I'm not sure what he thinks I do, but running an airline is not one of them.  What I WANTED to say was, "How did you not get up at your departure time and ask when your flight was going to board instead of sitting there in wonder for another 4 hours."  Some people you cannot help.  

When I arrived at the gate, thankfully maintenance was almost finished.  I was able to retreat from the festive atmosphere of Chicago O'Hare into my version of the Grinch's snowy Mount Crumpit.  Or were they all living there and I retreated back to Whoville?  Doesn't matter.  "Before Start Checklist."  

****

The story doesn't change much over the next few days only the passengers get more desperate and I become less visible.  In reality, the schedule on the following day kept me in the airplane and out of the airport.  On Christmas Eve, I awoke in Cincinnati, merely hours from my childhood home and where my family would be gathering tonight.  Unfortunately, I would not be joining them as I began my final leg of this Christmas journey.  We departed for Houston, then Oklahoma City, then back to Houston again where we had to wait almost 2 hours before our scheduled departure back to St Louis. In Houston, St Louis fell after Spokane for those searching for their gate.  

I needed a break from the cockpit and, honestly, wanted to be around people so I wandered bravely into the airport to eat.  At 6:30 pm, Houston was nearly a ghost town.  I walked to the food court to grab a table and there I joined at least 6 other crews doing the same.  It almost could have been confused for an employee cafeteria if it hadn't been for the 2 passengers eating at one of the tables.  I guess most of the travelers had made it home already.  As I ate my sandwich and listened to Christmas music, I started to miss my family.

After finishing my Christmas Eve dinner turkey sandwich, I made my way back to the gate.  This time people smiled when they made eye contact with me.  Children were in their pajamas and parents were carrying wrapped presents.  One young woman smiled as she talked to a loved one on the phone and ended the conversation with, "I can't wait to see you in an hour."  A group of military troops in uniform sat anxiously awaiting their flight to Cleveland.  I longed to join them.  

An hour before the departure, I made my way to the airplane where the Captain had been sitting the entire time playing cards on his phone.  "Man, that place is empty."  I said to him.  "What do you think about getting out of here early?"  The beaten man in the left seat jerked his head up and smiled. "I think that's a fine idea."  He jumped out of his seat and nearly slid down the hand rail of the stairs before disappearing into the terminal.  

I ran through my preflight checklists and flows.  By 20 minutes before departure, we were waiting for 2 more people.  Like children waiting at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning, the Captain and I sat, seat belts fastened, shoulder harnesses locked, looking anxiously out of the front of the airplane for the last two.  They appeared, a couple and as they walked through the door, the Captain shouted to the Flight Attendant, "Close us up!"  Fifteen minutes before our scheduled departure time, we were full and being pushed away from the gate.  In less than 5 minutes, we were launching ourselves into the cloudless starry Christmas Eve sky to St Louis.  

It wasn't long after we began descending into St Louis that I came over the intercom.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, we've begun our initial descent into St Louis."  After I briefed them on the weather, I finished with, "Looks like we will be able to get to the gate 30 minutes earlier than planned.  Thanks for flying United and United Express."  

As we pulled up to the terminal, we found the only remaining parking spot.  Every other airplane was sitting dark with the jet bridge pulled away to indicate it was sitting for the night.  We joined the dormant planes at the end and as passengers deplaned, they shouted Merry Christmas to us in the front.  Some even thanked us for getting them home early.  One mother carried her toddler over her shoulder.  The excitement was too much for that little fella.  As the last person walked off the airplane, we finished turning everything off and joined the passengers in the terminal.   

The door closed behind us and a quick glance at the arrivals board confirmed my suspicion that we were the last flight of the night.  Appropriately enough, Burl Ives had been replaced with "Silent Night" and as we passed by security, families awaited our arrival.  

The mood in the terminal was of joy.  We saw people running into the arms of their loved ones; some shedding tears of joy as they embraced.  The sleeping boy unwrapped a present right in the waiting area and screamed with delight.  His grandparents had met them with a Christmas surprise.  The last couple on the airplane walked hand-in-hand and were met by the elderly parents of one.  They exchanged hugs while telling the story of their journey as they walked to the baggage claim.  Most emotional was that of an Army Private, fresh from his tour in Afghanistan being welcomed by balloons and posters.  "Welcome Home PVT Smith!" the posters read.  A group of ten people waited, teary eyed and smiling as the young man approached.  A round of applause started and echoed throughout the terminal as passengers and family alike saw the young man hug and kiss his wife for the first time in months if not a year.  

I walked silently around the conversations and embraces yet completely invisible to their celebrations.  I picked my way through the crowd I was able to reunite and walked alone to the exit.  The click-clack of my suitcase again echoed through the empty terminal except for the whoosh of the door as I passed through it and into the silent, chilled December night.  This year I would not make it home for Christmas even though I tried to give my family hope that I would be.  It was Christmas Eve, after all and what is Christmas Eve without a little hope.  

The First of Many Flights

It's time.

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

Sunday, December 1, 2013

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Road Not Taken
By: Robert Frost

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

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

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

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

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

This is the end

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Troll under the Ground School Bridge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fire hoses are not for drinking

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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