My favorite holiday

Anyone in my family will tell you that my 2nd favorite holiday is Thanksgiving- I love the food, in fact I could eat a turkey dinner every week. My 1st favorite holiday, however, is the Memorial Day weekend. Sure, we take that time to honor our veterans and service members and those who gave their lives for our liberty. I give plenty of thought to that every year. However, to me, this weekend means some other things as well. From deep in my childhood, every Memorial Day, my dad would BBQ chicken on the grill while the Indy 500 blasted out over the radio (yes- in those days you could not get the race live on TV, but there were 3 local AM radio stations that carried it). Then- when the chicken was eaten and the race was won, there were the old war movies on TV. As the weekend expired, summer began. Those reasons alone make up my favorite holiday.

Over the years, in my own household, I have tried to keep the tradition going. Of course now the Indy 500 is a 4 and one half hour live TV event- not to mention the only time all year that I actually tune in ABC (or any of the three once-great networks). I have two kids of my own- who could care less about the race, but at least one of them does like the chicken. And considering daddy duty I only get to watch bits and pieces of the old war movies, my favorite of which is "Midway."

Of course I watch "Midway" whenever I can- not because it is a classic, but because it has so many cool aircraft in it. Who cares if some of the clips are out of context, or that you have a guy taking off in a Wildcat and coming back to crash in a Hellcat. Who cares that a lot of the Jap Zeros are actually T6s with a rising sun painted on the side- they're radial engine aircraft for crying out loud! I'll sit and watch "Midway" over and over again as if was a first-run feature, just for the airplanes. And if my wife asks me why I'm watching it "again?" I'll reply that it's (in the words of double ace Carl Brown, whose Aviation History class I attended in my freshman year at Embry-Riddle) "I love to watch the planes fly and the Japs die." Which does not go over well with my wife... because she's Japanese.

One afternoon while sittin' and watching "Midway"... again... my wife and my sister-in-law (who is equally Japanese) were getting ready for us to all take a trip to the mall. My wife shouted "Let's go!" My sister-in-law leaned over the couch and said, "Turn the TV off- let's get going." Without looking over at her I replied that I could not turn off "Midway" because, "I wanna see who wins." She said, "We won." I gave a hurumph and said "If that was true, then at this very moment I'd be surrounded by..." I looked at over toward two unimpressed oriental ladies standing in our living room which was decorated with Japanese nick-knacks and screamed "JAPS!!!!" They took my remote away and dragged me to the mall. I guess she was right- they won.

While at Embry-Riddle as a student, the showing of "Midway" was a huge attraction. This was mostly because the majority of us students spent most of our time sitting in our rooms building models of WWII aircraft. Sure- we were airplane nuts, but the most important aspect to our free time activity was that at the time there were 5,000 students on campus and less than 2 dozen were females; there wasn't much else to do. When they showed "Midway" in the University Center in 1978 it was standing room only. Although the movie had come out in 1976 it was a box office flop- there was still a lot of anti-war mind-set running around the nation. So, just a year or so later the film could be had for on-campus showing. What self respecting university would have the nerve to show a "War Movie" on campus? Embry-Riddle would- hell, what other university would have a double ace teaching Aviation History! Poor Carl Brown often had to field questions about TV's latest twist on WWII... "Baa Baa Blacksheep." I recall one student asking him how real it was- Brown replied "Have ya' ever seen Hogan's Heros? It's about that real." Of course, later, when "Midway" finally came to network TV, we combined it with model building and had the best of both worlds. Today, although Embry-Riddle has far more girls on campus, my bet is that the dorm room have the same scores of WWII airplane models.

So it was that this Memorial Day weekend my wife took the kids to have a "girl's adventure" at a friend's house and they left daddy alone at home... to cook chicken, watch the Indy 500 and all sorts of old war movies in peace. Although I did spend some time gazing out the window toward the stars and stripes waving out on my flag pole and respectfully considering all of those who served under those colors, I also caught the "Midway" marathon on TV. The United States won- every time.

Now... summer has started.

Solid Clouds

It was way back in my bachelor days, years before I met my wife. I boarded a People Express flight from DTW to MCO and snagged a good window seat on my way back to my pathetic "trying to earn enough money to get back into college at minimum wage" life in Daytona Beach. As I took my place at the window a good looking blond girl who was about my age came and took the aisle seat in my row. "My luck may be changing." I wrongly thought to myself.

Of course, like any good aviating bachelor, I immediately tried to impress the young lady next to me with the fact that I was a pilot and I knew all about how to fly. It didn't take long, however, before I correctly concluded that this person seated next to me had exactly zero interest in me or the fact that I knew how to drive airplanes. Likewise, it took about 90 additional seconds of listening to her talk before I also concluded that the lights were on, but no one was home in the aisle seat. In fact the dingbat wouldn't shut up as she rambled on across three states about going to the Boy George concert in Orlando. Before we hit the Florida state line I was attempting to crawl into the book I'd brought for the flight.

As we approached Orlando we let down through a few broken layers of cubie-clouds and the aircraft was doing the standard turns needed for traffic and to set up the approach. About then the dingbat in the aisle seat leaned over and asked, "Yer' a pilot... why do these airplanes always do these little turns like that?"

How could I resist?

Turning to her as serious as an instructor pilot I said, "They're avoiding the solid clouds." She frowned a bit. I went on, "You've heard the term solid clouds... right?" The dingbat nodded- the rattle sound coming from her head sounded like the silverware drawer in my house- "Well," I continued to explain, "clouds are made up of ice crystals suspended in the atmosphere by vertical air currents, and if those crystals get packed close enough together they can form a solid mass. We pilots are trained to spot those masses and maneuver around them." At that moment as if on cue, the aircraft took another turn, "Ya see! There goes one now!" I pointed out my window. The dingbat leaned over me straining to see out the window. "Did ya' see it?" I asked. She said she'd missed it, but asked me to point out any others. I told her that since we were getting lower and into warmer air there probably wouldn't be any more. The dingbat was disappointed.

If you like Wes' writing, have a look at his aviation spy thriller which is also his first novel, INVISIBLE EVIL it's a national best seller!

After we landed at MCO, the dingbat simply got up and said "C-ya'..." as I recovered my book bag and delayed as much as I could before leaving my seat. As I stood up and started to walk up the aisle, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a neatly dressed fellow in a golf-shirt smiling broadly. "I loved the solid clouds bit." he laughed. "Oh... you heard that eh?" I replied. He smiled even more widely and said "Every word... you really had her goin' there, she was buying ever word of it. I'm gonna remember that one." He asked if I was from ERAU and I said that I was. "I'm on my way to get a G-III type," he told me, "This one's gonna make a great story for the break room at FlightSafety." The two of us walked and talked for a bit through the terminal and as we went our individual ways- him to his G-III type and me back to scratching my way back into college- he said "Stay clear of those solid clouds!" I replied, "Hey, we're trained for that."

This fun tale was brought to you by Wes' 18th Great Lakes history book World War II and the Great Lakes ! Plenty of aviation stuff in here too. Hey... Wes can't help it.

One Sharp Old Bird

Along the way to a career in aviation you come upon scores of assholes. After a while they are about the same as stepping in dog poop- annoying, inconvenient, foul, yet blending in with all of the other times you've happened upon them. You rarely remember them. The other side of the coin is that unique individual that you meet who encompasses all that an aviator should be about. A person who inspires you simply by their casual demeanor- although they have done great things in aviation. They make you want to be like them- if only in some small way. For me, the most memorable of those select few aviators was one old bird by the name of Russ Purchase.

Being from the Tri-cities area of mid-Michigan I first heard of Russ when I was in the Civil Air Patrol in the early 1970s. People spoke of him in legendary terms. It seemed that he'd flown everything, done it all and was doing more. In the summer of 1978, after my freshman year at Embry-Riddle, I met Russ for the first time when I got a summer job at his FBO called Airflite and Serve-a-Plane. Airflite was not only an FBO, but was also a Falcon Jet service center and I was hired by Russ' hangar ram-rod, Tim Alexander, to work as a stockboy in the parts department- it was my first job in aviation. I was introduced to Russ by Tim who stated, as only Tim can, "This is Russ, he owns the place." then he added to Russ, "This is Wes the new parts guy, he thinks he's gonna be a pee-let" (Tim's favored slang for "pilot"). Russ, a thin, balding guy with a sweet little old man air about him, smiled and welcomed me to Hangar 6. That summer I really did not interact much with Russ before heading back to college and driving myself so far into debt to the University that they would not let me back in.

Thus in September of 1979, after getting the news that ERAU would not let me back in until I actually paid them instead of just signing promissory notes, I needed a job- any job- and fast. The first thing I did was call Airflight and talk to Tim. He told me they needed a "hangar rat" and I could start the next day. I had no idea what a hangar rat did, but it was a job and it was aviation related, so I jumped at it. The fact was that the hangar rat does just about everything and anything, but mostly you're a janitor. If it's full- empty it. If it's empty- fill it. Everything else- ya' paint yellow.

On my first day as the hangar rat I ran into Russ, who was a bit surprised to see me- he said he thought I'd be back at school. I explained that I'd run out of money and he fully understood. Knowing that Russ was the local FAA Designated Examiner, I also brought up the fact that I was aiming to take my private pilot checkride sometime in the near future. I'd passed my private pilot prog. check at ERAU, but did not qualify for their new Part 141 Self-examining authority, so I'd need an FAA ride. He told me that I could use one of his Cessna 172s just for the cost of fuel when the time came. Then he added, "When yer' ready, I'll fly with ya'..." and he smiled. Although the check pilots at ERAU scared the crap out of me, Russ had a very different air about him. He did not treat me like a student, or a wet nose, or a wannabe- all of which I actually was. Frankly, I could not wait for the chance to get Russ' signature in my logbook.

At work everyone seemed to have an aviation story to tell- except me, of course. I was way too new to aviation to have many good stories of my own... at least, none that could compare to the other guys. The corporate pilots sat around and told stories of Falcon Jets. The mechanics told stories about about the guts and innards of aircraft. The avionics guys told stories about circuitry and stray electrons. And the lineboys told stories about everyone who was telling stories. When Russ Purchase told a story, however, it was about something like flying the Ford Trimotor. When he got into one of those tales, I just sat there and listened... wide-eyed with my mouth hanging open and a little drool running down my chin.

I recall one Ford Trimotor story the best. Russ was a captain on the Trimotor flying out of assorted mid-Michigan cities to Chicago. They flew in all sorts of weather with few aids to navigation and fewer weather reports. In those days Russ and his fellow Trimotor pilots had a "rule" about engine outs on takeoff. The rule was that no matter what, with an engine out at takeoff, NEVER try and turn until you have plenty of altitude- "Just keep her flyin' straight as an arrow and get yer' altitude as ya' can, a foot at a time." The notion was that a turn in the low and slow part of the takeoff climb would cause the Trimotor to stall and spin into the ground. Now, I have no idea if that is an actual aerodynamic characteristic about the Trimotor or just a myth of the era, because I've never flown a Trimotor. I have no information as to what the Vmc is for the Trimotor, so I just took Russ' word for it. Anyhow, he was departing Saginaw's Harry Brown Airport back in the Trimotor days with a "boatload" of passengers and cargo. In those days the "field" part of the term "Airfield best described the airport, which was also surrounded by farmland. The Trimotor had hardly broken ground when the right engine "just quit." Russ was doing his best to keep her flying and kept telling himself not to turn, just keep goin' straight and get altitude a foot at a time. He was getting his way with the aircraft as he had a very slight climb. Then he looked out the window, and "Here comes a barn!" Get a little altitude, get closer to the barn, get a little more altitude, get a lot closer to the barn, get a little more altitude, barn's fillin' the windscreen. Hold yer' breath and nudge her up a bit... cleared the barn by a few inches. Whew! Russ breathed a sigh of relief, then looked over at his first officer... who had fainted dead away. With thoughts of modern airports, emergency landings, airways, fire and rescue equipment and the NTSB, I asked Russ, "So, what'd you do then?" He replied casually, "We flew to Chicago... that's where we were goin'."

Russ was not just a guy stuck in the old days and old equipment. Once he was away from the hangar for a whole week and I was told that he went to Atlanta... to golf. That figured- because the autumn weather in mid-Michigan had been beyond crummy for nearly two months. The next week Russ was back and I stopped into his office- probably to empty a waste basket or some such thing. I asked how his golf trip to Atlanta had been. He told me that it had rained all darned week. Then, with typical Russ matter-of-fact he added "...so I just went and got a Falcon 50 type. Been meanin' to do that." I was totally blown away- here I was sweating every prog. check that I'd done at ERAU in the 172, and this little old guy just goes out and gets a Falcon 50 type rating as an afterthought! As I went about my hangar rat chores that day it struck me that I would never, ever, EVER, rise to that level of aviation ability. Someone whose scope of demonstrated ability can so easily go from the Ford Trimotor to a Falcon 50 type in an afterthought.

While the autumn of 1979 went on the weather remained just plain rotten- every single day. Either the winds were gale force, or the rain was coming down out of a 200 foot ceiling, or the snow was blowing instead of the freezing rain. The days ticked off, and so did the days remaining in my private pilot endorsement. It was already November and I had not even touched an aircraft since late summer. It was not looking good for my private pilot checkride. I sheepishly went to Russ' office in an attempt to outline my problem. I'd no sooner told him the date of my endorsement when he stopped me. "Son,..." he said softly, "when you get to be my age, you don't worry about dates. Just keep yer' stuff here, and when the weather breaks- we'll go." and that was that.

One of my chores as a hangar rat, for which I often earned over-time pay, was washing aircraft. That involved pulling a bird into the hangar, closing the hangar door, using masking tape to close every opening on the aircraft, washing, rinsing it and then removing the tape. If the owner asked I'd also be happy to polish the spinners with Met-All... because that took about 2 extra hours... of time-and-a-half pay. One day I'd washed a Cheyenne for a local construction company, and I'd accidentally left the tape on one pitot tube. The following day the pilot (whose name is changed here to protect the innocent, and the stupid) climbed aboard and went ripping down the runway, only to abort his takeoff run as soon as (he stated that) he saw he had no airspeed indication. He taxied clear and came back toward the hangar. On the radio he was furious and it echoed through the lobby of Hangar 6 "That kid left tape on my damned pitot tube!" Oh yeah, I was doomed, a real pilot was about to drill me a new one- I felt about two inches tall as the aircraft screamed up to the hangar. Russ came down and said nothing- rather he just went close to the lobby door and waited. Bill the Cheyenne driver came bursting in through the door and proceeded to scream at me wagging his finger and holding up the tape. He went up one side of me and down the other... then Russ spoke with a quiet authority that it was like hitting Bill with a CO2 fire extinguisher. "That's what preflights are for Bill." The enraged pilot stopped, turned, and stormed back to his airplane. The entire lobby by then had been filled with mechanics attracted by the commotion and as the door slammed behind Bill, they all burst into laughter. Tim looked toward me and said "If he says anything else to ya' just ask him if he knows where his keys are." Russ began to giggle a bit as he headed back up to his office. Tim then explained that the previous spring Bill, the Cheyenne God, had locked the aircraft's cargo door and left the keys hanging in the lock, then flew it all the way from Milwaukee like that. By the time he got back to MBS the flopping keys had worn a hole in the skin of the aircraft. Apparently Bill was not real good about preflights.

On another occasion, we were "dumping" the hangar, or taking all of the aircraft out to get to one at the back and then putting them all back again as fast as possible so as to not let the weather take too much of an advantage of the open hangar door. We were in the process of putting the last aircraft, a Lear 35/36, back into the crowded hangar and my station in the operation was to be at the button that commanded the door to roll up and down. The lineboys were experts with a tug and could fit aircraft in with less than an inch of space between one extremity and another- they did it all the time. Their motto was "As long as you don't get into those negative inches, yer' fine." My station was also right next to the lobby door and Russ was standing there with the pilots of the Lear that was being parked. As the lineboy tugged the jet ever so slowly through the hangar door, the tip tank got close to the door frame... real close... as in about 1/4 inch. I could hear the pilot start to hiss as he expected a crunch that never came. The jet cleared, the tug was cut loose and I had the door closing before the motion stopped. The pilot barked "THAT JUST BARELY GOT IN THERE!" Russ turned to him and said, "Say that again... only without the exclamation point."

The morning of November 22nd, 1979 started out gloomy, but by mid-morning Indian Summer broke across mid-Michigan- it was perfect for my checkride! All I recall of that morning is bounding up the stairs to Russ' office. As I trotted in, Russ was at his big desk with a huge smile on his face as soon as he saw me. "Go ask Tim." he said. I went back down to Tim's office and he was waiting for me too. "Get otta here and go fly." he said faking a sneer. As I bolted he shouted "Punch out first!" I hit the time clock, grabbed my flightbag and headed back to Russ' desk for my oral. On the way up the stairs it suddenly dawned on me- I hadn't studied for the oral! At Embry-Riddle the orals were a really tough and required days of study for me, now I had to walk in and do it cold and in front of an aviation legend to boot. I sat down and Russ asked me a basic question about weight and balance, then he started teaching me all about Falcon 50 takeoff performance, V1 cuts, V2 climbs and balanced field. Then he told me to go pull the 172 out and preflight her... my "oral" was done. As I was pulling on the tow-bar, again a bit of cold reality hit me- I had not flown an aircraft since the end of summer.

Russ strolled out, climbed aboard the aircraft and simply said, "Let's go." He asked for a soft-field takeoff and I made it happen- it felt good to fly again. We headed out from MBS and over to the east. As we flew along Russ was looking out the window toward the wingtip. Then he simply said, "I think the little ball is out from the center a bit." I looked at the turn-n-bank and sure enough, the ball was about 1/8 out. "Damn," I thought to myself, "this old bird is sharp, I'd better sharpen up myself- RIGHT NOW!" Russ had me do some stalls, some slow flight, asked me how would I get from where we were to some of the other local airports and finally asked if I lost the engine right now where would I go. One of the few things that I knew for sure at that time was that when an instructor pulls an engine on you, the first place you look to go is straight down. The oldest trick in the book is to get you to look out rather than down- the best field, it is said, may be right under you. I looked down and sure enough, there was the perfect field for a forced landing, right under me. "I'd go there!" I answered pointing straight down. "Okay," Russ said. Then he leaned over and said, "Let's head back." I figured it was time for some more takeoffs and landings. But Russ leaned over and asked "Mind if I take it?" Now... at Embry-Riddle, when the check airman (AKA "prog. pilot") asks to fly the airplane back to the airport, it means you have failed in a very, VERY big way. I must have looked at Russ with horror on my face as I choked and stuttered out something like "Sure...okay..." He must have known instantly what was going through my mind as he grinned and said "You passed, yer' okay... I just don't get to fly the 172 very much." I worked the radios on the way back and took a few moments to savor the fact that I was flying with Russ Purchase.

After parking the 172 down at Hangar 4, Russ stepped out and said to meet him up at his office for my temporary certificate. The lineboy told me to just leave the aircraft on the ramp because they were gonna dump the hangar anyhow. So, I just gathered my stuff and walked up the ramp. Along the way I wondered what the guys in the hangar would say when I got there. They all knew I'd been waiting for weeks for this, especially Tim who teased me constantly about wanting to be a "damned pee-let." My bet was that one of the first things he'd say was "You owe me a beer" because he often said that. With that in mind, I went into the hangar and headed straight to my hangar rat's room. The previous week we'd finished a "C" check on a Falcon 10 and the guys from the jet had given every guy in the hangar who worked on the jet a six-pack of beer... including me. Being a non-drinker and not wanting to make the customer feel uncomfortable, I politely accepted my six-pack and just stashed it in the hangar rat's room for who-knows-what. Now, I figured a joke on Tim was a good use for that beer. I grabbed the six and stuck in my flightbag then went into the lobby. As I walked by Tim's office, he called me in. "Congratulations, ya' damned pee-let," he said reaching out to shake my hand, "Ya' owe me a beer." I reached into my flightbag, pulled out the six-pack and said "Here ya' go." as I set it on his desk. He chuckled and said "Just tell me you didn't get that otta Dow Corning's Falcon." I told him where it came from and he was more than happy to take the gift. Upstairs Russ made out my paperwork and I was officially a private pilot. When I went past Tim's office again he asked if I wanted to take the rest of the day off and celebrate. I told him no, I just wanted to punch in and get back on the clock- I still needed to earn enough to get back into Embry-Riddle.

A month later, I was ready to head back to school. Russ had my last paycheck printed and ready so I would not have to wait for money before heading down to college. As he handed me the pay-stub he quietly said, "You'll notice I didn't charge you for your checkride, you're gonna need every dime down at school."

Russ later sold his FBO and all of the trimmings to the Aero Services network of FBOs. He stayed on for a year or so as a manager, and then retired. I happened to be there visiting on his last day. He drove up in a huge motorhome, said his farewells and drove off into retirement- in style. In my aviation career I do not think that I achieved 1/100th of Russ' mastery of, not only the flying, but also the business of aviation. I'm sure that most of us who knew him would be forced to admit the same. He was one sharp old bird. Russ is no longer with us, but I've got his signature in one of my logbooks, and of that I take pride. I got my private certificate from a legend in aviation- yep.

The best $24 I ever spent

In early September of 1998 the pilots at Northwest Airlines went on strike. At the time I was flying Falcon Jets and so matters involving airlines had about zero impact on me. The one thing that I did take notice of was the fact that the strike caused the airspace above the northcentral states to be really, really quiet. That fact led to my investing the best $24 I ever spent in the aviation business.

Shortly after the strike began, I was called to do a trip from Washington DC to Winnipeg, Manitoba. On the way up there we soon discovered the amazing quiet on the center frequencies. In fact, about as soon as we cleared the DC airspace we got "Direct Winnipeg." All along the way we noticed that it seemed as if we had our own personal controller working only us on every frequency. I even joked to one controller how quite the skies were when those Northwest guys were walkin' around with picket signs. He came back with "Tell me about it- makes the day long."

On the ground at Winnipeg I managed to visit a really terrific hockey shop and generally observe the locals who were enjoying the last remnants of summer. They all had the look of people who knew that the Canadian winter would soon drop on them like an anvil. The weather was currently warm and beyond clear.

As we showed for departure I looked at the weather and we had clear skies all the way to DC. Since the strike was still going on, we would also have clear frequencies with ATC once more. Our clearance was essentially Winnipeg direct IAD, thence. Looking at the route of flight I saw that it took us down Lake Huron, and that gave me an idea. Considering that the MBS VOR, actually located in Freeland, MI- my home town- was just slightly off our route- I came up with a plan. My parents lived less than two miles from the VOR itself, I figured it may be really cool to alter our course and fly right over mom and dad. In doing so I could pick up the flight-phone, call them up and tell them to go outside and look up. I bounced that off of the guy I was flying with and he just lit-up. "Oh, we gotta' do that!" he giggled.

When I picked up our clearance I told ATC that we wanted to alter our route to Direct MBS, Direct IAD. There was a pause on the radio and the confused controller came back asking "Why do ya' wanna do THAT?" I came back and replied "My retired parents live right near the MBS VOR and I wanna fly over, call 'em on the flight phone and tell 'em to go outside and look up." There was another pause then the controller came back snickering and said, "That's too good, okay you're now cleared direct MBS, direct IAD." I read it back and he replied, "Read back correct, have fun!"

One of the most important rules that any pilot should have burned into their soul is that Air Traffic Controllers are people too. Although there are many times when it is absolutely required that you be brief and concise with them, there are times when if you need something, you can just talk to them like people. As long as it is within the reg.s and not out of line with traffic flow and needs, or safety, they're always willing to help you. The best thing to teach a student pilot is if you need help, call ATC and simply ask for it. There is a real person on the other end of your mic and you'll find out they are pretty damned cool... especially when you want to do something neat-O. Another thing that many pilots often forget is that controllers talk to each other- so it was that our departure controller called up the line and told the next person what we were doing and so on.

As we got within about 20 miles of the MBS VOR I picked up the flight-phone and called my folks. Such calls cost, at that time, about $12 per minute- so I had to be brief. Being retired, my mom and dad were almost always home. Mom answered and I asked if she was on the portable phone- she said that she was. I told her to go out side, she did. "Look up." I said, do ya' see a contrail?" "No." she replied puzzled. "Look north, toward the airport- and when you see a contrail, that'll be me. I'll call you back when we're directly overhead- this is costing me a ton." I hung up and then began to wonder if this was a no-contrail day! Since no one else was up near us, it was hard to tell.

As the DME ticked off and our course on the screen came directly over the MBS station I called mom and dad back. Mom sounded like she was jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" she was shouting, "We see you, we can see you! You're right straight up!" I replied with our altitude and told her we were turning and heading for DC. "We see you! she shouted and laughed, "There ya' go!" I gave a pilot's goodbye and told her I'd call her tonight when I got home.

We were all grins in cockpit knowing that down below us were two thrilled parents. After all of the years of working my way through school, after all of the flight training, check rides, flight instruction, airline flying and career pitfalls that they had watched their kid go through, they finally got to see a contrail and know that I was on the point of it. What I didn't know was that my dad ran and got his camcorder, which, of course, had a dead battery. They also tried to get neighbors to "come and see" but on this rare occasion- no one was home! Dad grabbed his perpetually out of focus binoculars and tried to see what he could see- but I'm sure it was a fuzz. In the end it was just the two of them who stood there together in the back yard where I used to stand and watch the contrails go over the MBS VOR and they watched my contrail until it was out of sight... then my dad stood there alone and watched for what my mom said was "Quite a bit longer."

Shortly after we made the turn toward IAD, center came on the radio and asked "How'd it go? Did they see ya?" I replied back "A-firm. Two very excited old folks down there right now." ATC replied with a very cheerful "Great!" I'm sure there were some grins in the TRACON too at that moment.

After we hangared that evening I left a note in the office telling them that I'd used the flight-phone and to bill me for it. The total for the phone call came to $24. It was indeed one of those rare opportunities when circumstances way beyond your control allows you to do something out of the ordinary that is really cool. My dad passed away six years later and I have often thought of him standing out there all by himself looking up into the sky where I had been and the feelings and thoughts he probably had. From an aviator's point of view, all things considered, that was the best $24 I ever spent in aviation.

Goin' to charm school

Commuting out of ORD, I had snagged a jumpseat on a United 757. The captain was a highly friendly fellow who was fairly senior and his FO was just getting ready to go to captain school for the 75 and seemed like a pretty cool guy as well. We blasted out of ORD and as we leveled off at cruise one of the Flight Attendants came into the cockpit. This FA was... well... as they like to say "OG" or openly gay. Now it is a vast misconception that all male FAs are gay. In fact a large portion of them are not. I once had a flight student who was a male FA at American and he liked to say that the way you get laid a lot in life is to be a straight guy working as an FA. Anyhow, the OG-FA politely asked if we'd like anything to drink.

Offering the crew something to drink at cruise was a standard practice in the pre-9/11 era when cockpit doors did not have to be barred and locked and then welded shut from the inside during flight. I said I was okay and didn't need anything, the FO echoed my answer and then put his hand over his mouth as if to conceal a smirk. The captain, however, just looked straight out the front window and stiffly said "Nothing, thank you." The OG-FA then left with a friendly "See ya'." An instant later, the captain reached over and hit the FA intercom button. When the lead FA answered the call he said sternly, "Cone in here please." By now the FO was looking out his window as if to say "I don't wanna see this."

In about a heartbeat later the lead FA came in and the captain directed her to close the door. "I don't care what you do for the rest of this flight," the captain snarled as he looked at her in a hateful manner, "but you keep that f%$&ing faggot out of my cockpit!" The stunned and clearly offended lead FA simply murmured "ok" and left, slamming the cockpit door.

No sooner had the echos from the slammed cockpit door faded than both the captain and the FO burst into laughter. The captain turned to me and saw that I was a bit stunned and began to sing "I'm goin' to charm school, I'm goin' to charm school, I'm goin to charm school..." The FO turned wiping his eyes and said "You sick bastard, I don't believe you just did that." The captain began to dance in his seat "I'm goin' to charm school, I'm goin' to charm school..."



"I'm missin' somethin' here." I mumbled. The FO decided to fill me in. You see, they can't fire United pilots for something like that. Instead, they take them off the schedule and send them to sensitivity training... in Denver... for a week. "He's done this before." the FO explained, "What was it last time?" the FO asked the captain. "Ski season." the captain replied happily. "And before that?" the FO went on. "Prime golf weather, just like now." the captain replied with a large knowing smile. "It works great," the captain explained to me, "You insult some fruity FA that you're probably never gonna see again, they send you to charm school in Denver, you spend the days learning charm and the rest of the time golfing or on the slopes. All ya' have to do is go in acting like Archie Bunker and pretend to slowly turn into Alan Alda by the end of the week. You get a passing grade and go back to work. You still get yer' guarantee, so you don't lose any money and you get an all expense paid vacation in Denver just to attend a bullshit sensitivity class."



"But... three times?" I asked. "Hey, I keep fallin' off the wagon." the captain smirked, "Can't help it, must be a defect in my personality."



A contrail could be seen high up in the eastern Ohio sky and at the very point of it were three pilots snickering like schoolboys over the concept of charm school. You can lead a pilot to charm school, but you can't make him sensitive.

The face of ObamaSpace-via Klyde Morris

ObamaSpace- NEUTERED!

On the first day of February, 2010 the ever leftward bound Obama administration presented a budget proposal for NASA that was nothing short of an outrage. Apparently, a hand full of the president's bootlickers cooked up a "new direction" that probably sounded real good while sitting on the floor in a semi-circle in some academic pow-wow and then decided that they alone would set a new direction for United States spaceflight. Our leader, who is said by those closest to him to be the "most aware" "most intelligent" and "most engaged" human who ever drew breath on the planet earth, simply rubber stamped the proposal which was then dumped on the nation.

ObamaSpace sought to cancel the entire Constellation program, including the Orion Crew Exploration Vehicle, it sought to send the the majority of funding from Constellation to "commercial" and "new space" companies. Instead of continuing in its efforts to explore space and return to the moon, NASA would now focus on completely undefined "game changing" and "path breaking" technologies. It would have also dictated that NASA spend much of its time in the study of "climate change." The result would be that NASA's program of training and flying astronauts would immediately end, the VAB, launch complex 39 and the Launch Control Center at the Kennedy Space Center (KSC) would all be shutdown and effectively "Abandoned In Place" immediately following the final shuttle flight. ObamaSpace had no goal, no direction and would accomplish nothing other than downsizing NASA into a small R&D agency that could easily be defunded in a few years. It represented the ripping down of a half century of United States leadership in space- it was a liberal's wet dream.

Reaction the ObamaSpace was instant and extremely negative. Congress was taken completely by surprise and they were beyond unhappy- they were down right insulted. With the exception of a few Obama zealots, space experts came out in droves against ObamaSpace. Some managed to point out a very few good points in the proposal- such as an increase in NASA's overall budget... which just happened to come real close to what the Obama Administration had cut the previous year. There was also added funding for aeronautics and for research and development. Yet the overall picture as quite sinister as it was very clear that this was a death proposal for NASA.

So loud was the reaction to Obama's FY2011 NASA budget proposal that it actually drew the president's attention away from March Madness basketball. In a "meeting" (No one is really sure if anyone who does not totally agree with das leader actually does get to "meet" with him), Sen. Bill Nelson, D FL, said that he had explained to das leader how badly das leader's space proposal was being received. Nelson stated that he was given an assurance by "the administration" that changes would be made and das leader would announce those in a visit to KSC on April 15th. Knowing how the "administration" actually functions, however, the question was put to Nelson "...and what if Obama doesn't change his proposal enough to save the space program?" Nelson replied "Then we (the Congress) will change it for him."

On April 15th Obama's teleprompters were set up at KSC, an audience of hand-picked Obama suck-ups was seated and das leader got up and spoke. With an Orion spacecraft that he had canceled and a Space Shuttle Main Engine, that he considered as non-game changing technology and thus obsolete, as backdrop Obama proceeded to say that we would not be going back to the moon- because we've been there- done that. He said that we would spend the next five years deciding on a heavy lift launch vehicle and he would un-cancel Orion and instead turn one or two of them into escape pods to be hung on the International Space Station. Yep- he changed ObamaSpace... and if you got real close and squinted, you might just see the change. Effectively, he stabbed Bill Nelson in the back... then das leader jetted down to Miami for a high-priced fund raiser.

The Congress, however, joined forces across party lines and, led by Bill Nelson they proceeded to take das leader's budget proposal and "Change it for him." Hearings were held and overall, out of all the member of Congress who were involved, only 5 did not out rightly condemn ObamaSpace- especially for its cancellation of the Constellation program. By mid-summer the United States Senate had come out with S.3729 which passed by unanimous consent and was their new direction for NASA. It contained a fully capable Orion for exploration beyond low earth orbit and directed the immediate development of a new heavy lift launcher to replace the shuttle in both the manned and unmanned configurations. Although the bill contained enough of ObamaSpace to draw the ink from the president's signature pen, it was in fact a sharp rebuke of the administration's FY2011 NASA budget. Meanwhile the House was working on their own rebuke of ObamaSpace. Between recesses and other Congressional business, however, the House was not able to get their bill to the floor before the ending of FY2010. As a result, the House adopted S.3729 and passed it by greater than a 2/3 majority. ObamaSpace had been blown up in the administration's face.

Almost immediately, two of ObamaSpace's biggest hucksters and Obama worshipers- NASA Administrator Charlie Bolden and his deputy administrator Lori Garver began to provide political cover das leader. Their formula is very simple- just act like S.3729 is ObamaSpace and has been what the president wanted all along. Charlie's first public statement said, in part, "...we now can move forward with plans to execute the vision set for us by President Obama..." and later went on to say, "Drawing on the ambitious plan for our agency laid out by President Obama, the Congress approved the National Aeronautics and Space Administration Authorization Act of 2010." and "Passage of this bill represents an important step forward towards helping us achieve the key goals set by the President." Following S.3729's passage Garver stated, concerning NASA's return to the moon that thanks to Obama, "we will be going back with humans..." even though- ObamaSpace, and Obama himself both direct that NASA should NOT be going back to the moon- only S.3729 and the Congress changes that.

This response to the Congressional rebuke of ObamaSpace ignores the bits and pieces of the administration's proposal that blew up in their collective faces and sounds a lot like Pee-Wee Herman when he drives off of a cliff and simply says "Ha, ha, I meant to do that."

Blitzkrieg on fatigue

In the wake of the February 2009 Colgan Air 3407 accident the FAA Administrator made a "Call to Action" and one of the items to be addressed was supposed to be pilot fatigue.

Personally, I was more than highly skeptical. Even though a lot of blood had been spilled, which is normally the traditional motivation for the FAA to actually "do" something, fatigue is normally placed on the back-burner which is then turned off. As a pilot who flew at a number of different airlines and corporate operations and who many times found himself taking out the mask and sucking oxygen in order to stay awake during a late night approach and landing (like everyone else in the pilot groups), I found that the FAA did little more to address fatigue than sending out cartoon posters about the subject. I've seen pilots hosed by weather desperately trying to catch a well needed nap in ops. seated right below a poster warning all about the evils of pilot fatigue.

The problem is highly multifaceted with blame spread across aviation management, FAA weak rule making and pilot lifestyles. Management has had decades to worm through the loopholes in the current duty time reg.s and they are VERY good at it. They also have this fun way of basing pilots at out-stations, forcing people to commute to and from a crash-pad and home. In my day, the folks at screw-scheduling were experts at throwing a pilot right up against the wall of "duty time" because they know that such time ends when your flight is clocked "IN" and begins when they require you to "Report" for the next duty. You must get, by regulation 8 hours of rest in between. Forget that it may be a 40 minute wait for the crew van plus a 20 minute ride to the hotel and another 10 minutes to check in- that's all deducted from your 8 whole hours of required rest... plus the return to report, which takes just as long, also comes off of your end of the same 8 hours. Meals? HA! Who has time? Undress for bed, shower and re-dress... that comes out of the 8 as well and scheduling can still say they're legal. And even if they're not, report 'em to the FAA or even the union and see what happens... ZERO.

My favorite actually happened in corporate flying when I got a call from scheduling at 5 pm, and was informed that I had a report at 2 am for a 3 am departure the next morning. I had an hour drive from home, but forget about that, what about plain old sleep? They told me "Well just go to sleep right now." Ever try that? Just go to bed at 5 pm, simply lay down and try and fall asleep... in the daylight... doesn't work folks. But hey... they were legal under the reg.s. Oh... and by the way, they had those FAA "fatigue is evil" posters slapped up all over the place.

So, when it came to Admin. Babbitt's call to action and the subject of fatigue, I had very low expectations.... I was wrong.

Today the FAA released it's proposed rule changes for the issue of pilot fatigue and they are a real blitzkrieg on fatigue. Quoting Aero-News.net, "The proposal defines “flight duty” as the period of time when a pilot reports for duty with the intention of flying an aircraft, operating a simulator or operating a flight training device. A pilot’s entire duty period can include both “flight duty” and other tasks that do not involve flight time, such as record keeping and ground training. The FAA proposes to set a nine-hour minimum opportunity for rest prior to the duty period, a one-hour increase over the current rules. The proposed rule would establish a new method for measuring a pilot’s rest period, so that the pilot can have the chance to receive at least eight hours of sleep during that rest period. Cumulative fatigue would be addressed by placing weekly and 28-day limits on the amount of time a pilot may be assigned any type of duty. Additionally, 28-day and annual limits would be placed on flight time. Pilots would have to be given at least 30 consecutive hours free from duty on a weekly basis, a 25 percent increase over the current rules."

WOW!

If Randy Babbitt can actually get these changes into the FARs, it will be a major improvement. It will cost the airlines a lot of that extra cash they're grubbing by charging for checked bags and may force companies to actually, heaven forbid,... hire more pilots. Safety may really be enhanced.

Dig it!

A quote from my brother Craig:

"Obama needs to stop saying that "We're going to dig ourselves out of this hole" -- there are multiple ways to get out of a hole. Digging is not among them."

and Craig did NOT vote for McCain.

Where the flock did July go?

Just who was it that cranked up the time machine and put the entire summer into fast forward? I mean, where the f%$k did July go? Just seems I turned around and it was gone! Anyone seen my old friend June? And today I saw that some sinister forces have taken a huge bite out of August and shoved it into the history book. Summer is screaming past and there's nothing we can do to stop it!!

Quick! Someone throw yourself into the volcano, sacrifice a goat, offer up a virgin (or Richard Branson- just because he makes so much using that word), do the summer dance around a blessed stack of used flip-flops! Do something, anything to turn the time machine back to normal!

Why can't January, February and March act this way?