A certain professional golf player, who won’t be named, in what we now know to be perhaps the understatement of 2009, admitted that “I’m far from perfect”. I have a few things in common with him. He plays golf, so do I. Well, it might be a stretch to call it playing, but I try. He’s travels away from his home quite a bit, so do I. He’s far from perfect, and so am I. Actually, so are all of us.
Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not like the philandering pilot in “The Pilot’s Wife”, showcased by Oprah’s Book Club. I’m devoted to my wife, and take my marriage vows seriously. But like the bumper sticker “Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven”, I’m still human.
Since it’s a new year, and resolutions are common, the subject of perfection and being perfect is appropriate. Being perfect is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while now. I feel like sometimes this blog mistakenly makes the impression that I’m expressing how good of a person I am, how obedient I am to God and what not. That is not the purpose. My intent is to share the experiences I have both as an airline pilot and as a Christian, trying to follow Jesus Christ in word, faith, and deed. I wish to glorify God and illuminate Christ. I struggle, I sin, I fail, I fight temptation, and I suffer. But I also pray, study God’s word, praise and worship Him, share my faith with others, revel with God and glorify him in my victories, and try to love others as I do myself.
Nobody’s perfect is a trite saying, but one that we all have in common, whether you’re the Pope or a pauper, President or Pro Golfer, Parent or Pilot. Honestly, we are all ‘far from perfect’. God’s view on this is shown in Romans 3:10-12, 18, and 23 as this theme: “10As it is written: "There is no one righteous, not even one; 11there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God. 12All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one." . . .18"There is no fear of God before their eyes." . . . 23for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
Well, there is one exception to that rule. There is one man who lived a perfect life, and never committed a sin. I’m speaking of Jesus Christ, of course. He did God’s perfect will, sometimes even surprising his parents and offending others in the process, and though he was human like us and was tempted like us, he never sinned.
Scripture backs me up. From Hebrews 4:15: “For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.” Just after the Holy Spirit descended on him as he started his earthly ministry, he was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1-10). And from II Corinthians 5:21: “For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”
There’s more, from Hebrews 9:14 (NLT) “Just think how much more the blood of Christ will purify our consciences from sinful deeds so that we can worship the living God. For by the power of the eternal Spirit, Christ offered himself to God as a perfect sacrifice for our sins.” And Hebrews 7:28 calls Jesus our ‘perfect High Priest’.
The naysayer might want to (1) debate whether Jesus lived a perfect life, and (2) also say ‘so we know we’re not perfect, so what? God still loves us anyway, so he would accept me into heaven, I’m not a bad person’. The first point is another subject, maybe for another day. On the second point, yes, God still love us, but He commanded the Israelites in the Old Testament to “be holy, because I am holy” (Leviticus 19:2).
In the Old Testament, God’s people kept disappointing him with their sin and wickedness (not being holy), and God had Moses and Aaron institute a prescribed and precise system of animal sacrifice, which by the spilling and shedding of blood (because the penalty of sin is death, and spilling of blood represents death) would atone for the sin of the people and make things right with God (Leviticus chapters 16-17).
By the time Jesus was born (start of New Testament) and started his ministry 2000 plus years ago, the system of animal sacrifice for atonement of sins was firmly established. Then Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount and at the end of it commanded us to “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). Now didn’t God say in Genesis that he created man in his image? And Adam and Eve for a time didn’t sin, at all. So on the basis of God’s creation it’s actually somewhat valid for him to expect us to be perfect.
Let me get this straight, you might say. Not only is God and Jesus Christ perfect, but He wants us to be perfect? Yep. According to the Bible, we need either to be perfect (a very tall order indeed) or we need a fix (they say fix in Oklahoma, where I’m from originally), or a repair, or a remedy for our imperfectness. What I mean by this is a way to look like we’re perfect to God, even though we’re not. I think most all of humanity, when it comes down to it, would choose the latter option.
Jesus Christ himself is the fix for our imperfectness, and the way to repair the broken relationship we have with God due to our sin. He is the Son of God, part of the Holy Trinity, which is portrayed and displayed in the Old and New Testament. Thusly, he is God, and admitted as much in the gospels before he was crucified on the cross.
Do I mean Jesus will help us not commit sin at all and be perfect? Yes and no, kind of. Walking spiritually ‘in Christ’ will grow a desire in your heart to please God with your actions, desires, and thoughts. Avoiding sin only because you know its wrong quickly not only becomes tiring, it becomes impossible! Also, can imperfect humans really be perfect, really? Not by our own efforts, not by our own works. Even the Pope and Billy Graham sin. So where does that leave us, desperate?
For a moment only; no, that leaves us totally and completely dependent on Christ to perfect us, to make us perfect. But does the Bible say He does this? Yes! From Hebrews 10:14: “because by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy (Christians being sanctified).” There it is, straight from the Holy word of God. We REALLY CAN are made perfect in God’s eyes, without actually being perfect!
This is a lot to chew on spiritually. For more explanation, I found it was good to read the sections from Hebrews 7:23-28, Hebrews 9:13-15, and Hebrews 10:11-18 (all NLT). Also consider the phrase ‘in Christ’ from the standpoint of John 15 (‘I am the vine, you are the branches’) and as well as from John 17:23 (NLT) when a pre-crucifixion Jesus prayed for future believers: “I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me.” Christ is perfect, and he is in us and we are in him. Hallelujah!
What can I share about flying lately? Well, I’m not perfect there either. Things occasionally happen, despite my best intents and efforts that I don’t share unless you’re a fellow pilot at my airline that I’m comfortable sharing it with. No, I can’t divulge the details; it didn’t require a visit from the Chief Pilot or the FAA. Let’s just say the complacency curve caught up to me, and something happened which made me ask “how the heck did that happen?” When I make errors, or mistakes, usually it’s ones of small significance, customer service related, or one where the Co-Pilot and I agree that it just amounts to ‘style points’. But sometimes, well, ‘stuff’ happens.
OK, I give, as I frequently do. We were taxiing out of a Birmingham, Alabama, about a month ago at ‘dark O’Clock’ in a pounding, cold rain. We were a little late because of a number of frustrating occurrences, some caused by a seemingly inept ground crew, some caused by a broken and uncooperative airplane.
The ramp crew hadn’t serviced our jet properly during the overnight, and I had to request water for the galley and lavatory, and a ground power unit (GPU) and air start cart. You’re heard these terms before and together they mean our APU (auxiliary power unit) was broken. When the APU is ‘inop’ we need a GPU for electricity and a start cart to provide air pressure to start our engines. The cabin not being clean enough was minor at this point.
They got us water and the aforementioned equipment, then boarded us and we prepared to start engines, only to see that the tug driver couldn’t make his headset work to communicate with us for the pushback. Eventually he got it working intermittently, and then our left engine had trouble starting correctly. The start was fine, but when it was completed we kept getting a red warning light and text and audible message ‘engine oil pressure’ telling us that the oil pressure on our left engine was too low. Upon checking the actual oil pressure gauge and the other engine indications, the reality was that the pressure was fine, and I surmised that so was the engine. It was entirely logical that the warning was not correct, but with a $2 million engine and a warning that won’t go away, you can get antsy quickly. I shut down the engine, we started the right engine, and planned to start the left one again, and we tried to communicate this to our soaked to the bone ramp agents through the rickety headset connection. Upon starting the left engine again the message wouldn’t go away, so I called for the QRH (Quick Reference Handbook) procedure for low engine oil pressure. The checklist basically said if you have both gage and warning message indications of low oil pressure, shut down the engine, if you have conflicting indications, keep it running and monitor it. Just about then the message did go way.
The ramp crew, in their yellow slickers, had about had enough. To get them out of the rain, I resolved to call maintenance and report our trouble in starting the left engine, but do it after taxi while sitting next to the runway. We finished our checklists and prepared to taxi out.
Leaving a rain soaked, black asphalt ramp at an unfamiliar airport for the very first time, at a dark hour of before sunrise would prove to be interesting. There had been so much rain and moisture that our windshield had fogged up on the inside surfaces, like you get on a car sometimes. I asked my FO to select high on our windshield heat instead of low. For some reason he was reluctant to do so, so I did it myself. The high setting would remove the fog on the windshield sooner. Windshield heat is a super powered version of rear window defogging on a car. We started taxiing out from the ramp to the taxiway after receiving taxi clearance from Birmingham ground control to taxi to our departure runway.
Feeling our way past the terminal and other aircraft, the wipers were doing okay in clearing the rain and the fog was slowly being removed from the windscreen. Two ‘islands’ (areas you can’t taxi over), wrapped in the blue lights taxiways are identified by, were ahead of us, and it looked like we could go right between both of them. Getting closer I slowed the plane down and we both peered through the drops on our windshield. “I don’t see lights on the inner sides of the islands” I said. My FO, a really good guy to work with but a new pilot at our airline, with only about 500 hours total time in jets, agreed. Approaching with about ten yards left to reach the islands I noticed that there was a green reflector in the ground right ahead of us, then the depth and width of the drainage ditch I was about to drive the plane into blossomed into full realization in the threat area of my brain. After an exclamation or two, a brake application and a sharp turn to the left around the ‘two’ islands which in reality were one, we found the taxiway down to the runway.
Fortunately I had been taxiing the jet slow enough to see the danger, slow down, and turn out of the way. We surmised that sometime in the past a blue light and post had been broken and the airport had replaced it with just a green reflector on the ground. The ditch was one to two feet deep and about three feet wide, and would’ve ‘ruined our whole day’ had I driven the plane through it.
At a holding ramp next to the runway, I called our maintenance department. When I reported our engine starting difficulty they agreed it was just an anomaly, and advised us to keep an eye on it, as we certainly would. The engine never gave us any more trouble the entire day, which involved five legs worth of flying.
The temperature in this moderate, constant rain was a cold 3 degrees Celsius, or about 38 degrees Farenhight. That required that we takeoff with our wing and engine cowl anti-ice systems turned on. Because our jet doesn’t have takeoff and landing performance calculated (it wasn’t certified this way to increase available payload) when operating without the APU on while using hot air from the engine for wing and engine cowl anti-ice, we would have to perform the takeoff with the cabin unpressurized, and consequently perform an unpressurized landing and takeoff at Charlotte, Huntsville, and Washington DC. I could explain more but at this point it would be too confusing and diverting from the story; just know that an unpressurized takeoff or landing is a pain in the butt!
After we briefed this procedure, I took a little time to consider with my Co-Pilot what we could’ve done better to avoid ‘driving it into the ditch’ in the first place. I should’ve selected high on the windshield heat immediately, and not taxied until it was clear of fog. I should’ve looked at the airport diagram closer and defined and briefed our taxi route from the ramp to the taxiway, before the plane started moving. I always brief the taxi before the plane is moving, but this time I let being in a hurry get the best of me. I noticed that the airport diagram didn’t show enough detail to see that the two islands were actually one, but one page later, in a map of the terminal and ramp area, it did show that important detail. Lastly, I should’ve been on better guard since I was operating at an unfamiliar airport. Actually there’s one more, too, that I kept to myself. I tend to lose ‘flight discipline’ somewhat when I get emotional, on the angry or happy side of the scale. I could do better in safeguarding against this.
‘Flight Discipline’ is an important term I favor in my job arena. When even the new FAA Administrator is lamenting a loss of professionalism in the regional AND major airline pilot ranks these days, encouraging pilots to have better flight discipline will be one of the keys to improving the airline safety record even further. I’d like to plug a great book I read by the same name, ‘Flight Discipline’ by Tony Kern, a veteran Air Force Pilot. He reviews military and airline accidents in which a lack of flight discipline directly contributed to the crashes occurring. Based on my experience as an airline pilot, former military pilots seem to have better flight discipline than their civilian cohorts. They have more of a mission mindset and a greater respect for the rules and SOP’s (standard operating procedures) than other pilots. This isn’t to say that every civilian pilot is a ‘cowboy’ either, by no means.
Traditionally, the public holds pilots in such high regard, sometimes I wonder why. Maybe it has to do with entrusting your life to complete strangers in a foreign, unknown, unfriendly sky. Not to malign my brothers and sisters in arms, but we are people too. On one hand, passengers seem to think that pilots are brave, courageous, have razor sharp reflexes and coordination, are safe and professional, and thusly, have the morals and ethics of saints. I’m sorry, it’s just not true. You can be a safe and professional pilot and still be completely human, with many personal failings. The opposite stereotype of pilots as greedy, lazy, drunk, egotistical male chauvinists and bigots who cheat on their wives or girlfriends is far from the mark as well. The reality is somewhere between; as it is in society in general, it depends on the individual pilot. Yes, airline pilots tend to have egos, but we’re not superheroes, we’re people like you and me. We’re just people, far from perfect people who have a love for flying, who have a blood and heart infection for being in the sky.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
A Grinch who almost stole Christmas
I’m touched by what went down a few nights ago. The events which transpired on Christmas Eve befit the Holiday. Both the naughty and nice sides of human nature were on display, and I’m proud of the way people with my company and others responded to the situation.
Our story starts after a Philadelphia-Milwaukee round trip, where we incurred takeoff delays in Milwaukee because of not one but two airborne emergencies of Northwest Airlines and United Express planes. After uneventful outcomes of both we blasted off for the ‘City of brotherly love’, grateful that no one was had been hurt.
As a side note, a ‘monumentally impressive snow and rainmaker of a winter storm’ (TV Weatherman impersonation) was producing only a cold and constant rain at Brew City’s Mitchell field. Freezing rain or snow, which was then located to the north and west of Milwaukee, would’ve delayed us twenty minutes or more to de-ice and anti-ice our aircraft. The frontal boundary of this weather system eventually stretched like an upside down horseshoe from the east coast over the Great Lakes and down into the southern plains states. They had blizzard warnings for Iowa and Oklahoma on the same day. The best part is this big storm was moving slowly. They’ve had flood warnings in the east, from days of rain far ahead of the snowy part of the storm system. You can see from the weather map that moisture from the Atlantic Ocean is being drawn up the east coast and across the Great Lakes, helping to feed moisture to the already snow laden atmosphere.
Back to our Christmas story, to start it that is; kind of like the background of the traditional Christmas story, it takes a little to get it going. We arrived a little late in Philadelphia from Milwaukee, and were to swap into a new aircraft for a flight from Philadelphia to Albany, New York for our overnight. I had been flying with reserve Co-Pilots on this trip, and I called our Dispatcher to ask three questions: for a meal break for my Flight Attendant and I, where our plane we were to swap into was, and who my new First Officer (FO) was. He was fine with the meal break, as we had skipped lunch, and told me that our FO, a reserve pilot from one of our other bases, had been in PHL for two hours. Arriving at the gate with Chinese food in my hand, our jet was ‘cold and dark’, airline parlance for not powered up, no electricity and no heat. What it really meant was that my new FO wasn’t present, for some reason. I put on my best poker face in front of fifty anxious passengers and one mainline pilot/jumpseater, then the Flight Attendant and I walked down the jetway to the plane. After firing up the APU to prepare the plane I called Crew Scheduling to advise them that FO ______ wasn’t present. I was quickly concerned when Crew Scheduling was surprised that he wasn’t there and began trying to track him down.
My good Flight Attendant and I agreed not to board the jet until Crew Scheduling had found an FO for the flight, this one or a new one. He wasn’t happy about it, but we advised the gate agent of this, and I became worried that the flight would be cancelled. Crew Scheduling determined that ________ had commuted back to his base for the night, and they started trying to find a new FO for us.
Rachael, our Flight Attendant, brought sodas and water to our fifty Albany bound passengers waiting at the gate. A Gate manager who was helping oversee everything brought out pretzels to the passengers as well. By now we were the last Express flight out of PHL on Christmas Eve, and my optimism was fading fast.
I went out and spoke to a few passengers about the delay, trying to bite my tongue concerning what I suspected our FO had done: essentially ditched us, the company, and fifty Empire Capital bound passengers just before one of the Holiest days and biggest Holidays of the year. A passenger asked me about the new departure time on the monitor. It now showed a 9:40 PM departure time, 2:40 later than we had been scheduled. I called Crew Scheduling (CS) back to ask about it. They informed me that the pilots of a flight currently landing at Elmira-Corning, New York would reposition a jet without passengers back to PHL and the FO from that plane would fly with our crew to Albany (ALB) for the night. Good news!
CS and our Dispatch Coordinator had worked a Christmas Miracle. They had tried assigning ready reserve pilots (different than normal reserve) but they were off duty, no other reserve pilots were available in PHL, and they called to ‘junior man’ pilots but no one was answering their phones (understandably). They had done almost everything they could to find a pilot to assign this flight to, and the only trick they had left was to extend a crew who were still on duty’s schedule, fortunately it worked.
I hated the idea of canceling this flight on Christmas Eve. The visual I had of the suffering these people would experience in not making it to loved ones for Christmas Morning was difficult to me to bear. I’m very grateful that my company and others went the extra mile to find an FO and not cancel this flight. They did more than just avoid a cancellation and the expense of putting fifty customers up in a hotel for the night. They saved Christmas for them!
I’d like to give ‘gold stars’ to my Flight Attendant Rachael, the gate agents, and ramp agents for taking great care of the passengers during this delay, and staying to see our flight out, and especially to my airline’s Dispatch Coordinator and CS Personnel responsible for not canceling this flight and for finding a replacement FO. To strand passengers in PHL on Christmas Eve because of this would have been a very unfortunate thing to do. My company and the others involved spent thousands of dollars more than necessary to get this flight out, but I’m proud of their response in this situation.
I had asked the CS person if she could share any details with me about the first FO’s missed flight assignment. CS contacted him at 7 PM on the 23rd during an overnight stay, via a voice mail message, with the PHL-ALB flight assignment. He didn’t call back, and CS left him another voice mail message on this Christmas Eve during his day of flying. He didn’t return this call either and commuted back to his base after arriving back in PHL after flying three flights. CS wasn’t happy with this person’s actions, and it seemed that this situation would definitely be addressed by management, and rightly so.
I and Rachael were angry and embarrassed, frankly, to hear of these events: angry at this employee, whom neither of us knew, and embarrassed that someone at our airline would do such a thing. While I don’t know his side of the story, it seemed to us that our FO intentionally missed his flight assignment, just in order to be home on Christmas Eve. For a reserve pilot to not call back about a new flight assignment to be flown on a scheduled day of reserve duty is very unprofessional, but even more so on a holiday like Christmas Eve.
I went back to preparing for our ‘Santa’ flight. Our jet’s wingtips were collecting frost, so I requested a de-ice. A PHL Operations Manager responded, but ultimately requested a change of aircraft because the deicing trucks had been shut down for the night, and the de-icing crews had gone home for the night as well (can’t blame them really). Our Dispatcher changed our jet to the one being repositioned to PHL, bringing in our new FO, assigned to our PHL-ALB flight. This plane was “negative APU” (APU inoperative) so I requested an air start cart (for the engines) and a GPU. The circus music had already replaced the Christmas music in my head, and it was getting louder. Fortunately and thankfully our ramp agents and gate agents had not abandoned us, and continued to take care of our needs.
With only the Captain and our ‘savior’ FO on board, our new jet arrived and parked next to our frosty one. The ground crew plugged the GPU (ground power unit) in and we had electricity on the aircraft without having to run one of the engines. Rachael, our new FO and I prepared it and boarded our 50 passengers for ALB ASAP. We pushed back just after ten PM, three hours late.
This night, Christmas Eve night, we had had a Grinch who tried to steal Christmas from our passengers, a selfish fellow with an ugly attitude, thinking only about himself and not others he was to serve. True Christmas spirit, that of giving, serving, and sacrifice, and ultimately of suffering, was not in him. It reminds me of how secular traditions – the commercialization of Christmas (giving gifts, Santa, etc.) and applied humanist philosophies try to steal it from it’s true reason: The celebration of the human birth of Immanuel, ‘God with us’ (Isaiah 7:14) , The prophesied Messiah for the Jewish people and all mankind, Jesus Christ.
There were many prophecies fulfilled just by the birth of Christ. Concerning his birth, the who it was, what would happen, when it would occur, where it would occur, how it would occur, and of what lineage the Messiah would be was prophesied of hundreds and thousands of years before Jesus birth. For two websites worth exploring these prophesies at, click here and here.
Why do I write of Christmas in this way, that it includes sacrifice and suffering? The original, true Christmas story had these elements. Mary and Joseph were certainly cursed at under the breath of others, and possibly ostracized by those who didn’t believe their ‘Holy Spirit conceived pregnancy while still a virgin’ story (Matthew 1:18-25, Luke 1:26-37) that no doubt made the rounds in their town of Nazareth. There’s suffering there.
The arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem that they made during the final stages of her pregnancy involved suffering and sacrifices as well. It was 70 miles, and tradition says that Joseph walked and Mary was on a donkey. The census, called by Caesar Augustus, was to collect taxes for the Roman Empire, and required that everyone travel to their hometown (Luke 2:1-5). By God’s sovereign plan this requirement enabled fulfillment of the prophecy that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, given by Micah the Prophet in Mica 5:2: “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, are only a small village among all the people of Judah. Yet a ruler of Israel will come from you, one whose origins are from the distant past.”
We humans love signs from the divine, and in the Christmas story, one of the signs ‘of the new King’ was given to ‘wise men from the east’. From Matthew 2:1-12, wise men from the east ask King Herod in Jerusalem “Where is the new born king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” Why did this signal to the wise men that a new King was born? According to a Bible guide I have, some astronomers calculate that in 7 BC Jupiter and Saturn lined up inside the Pisces constellation not once, but three times. On the ancient Middle Eastern horoscope, Jupiter represented kings, Saturn represented the Jews, and Pisces (fish) represented the Jewish homeland, so it seemed that a Jewish King was arriving at the Jewish homeland! Click here for a Theoretical Astrophysicist’s interesting opinion on it.
What a great sign this was! And I’m grateful that I received a sign this night, a skeptic might say it was coincidence, but I have faith in Jesus, and prefer to use it when I can. Our great sign this night was the name of our new FO, whose last name was ‘King’, I kid you not. He was easy to work with, understanding of the situation, he even called me sir, kept doing it too, even after I told him he didn’t need to. A ‘King’ who suffers and serves, he had those traits in common with the Lord.
If you’re thinking ‘baby Jesus didn’t suffer’ you’re probably right (except for the animal dung smell!), but suffering was part of his destiny. By reading the gospels one can see that He never turned away when faced with suffering and sacrifice. We Christians are quick to accept his serving, suffering, and sacrifice for us, but tend to be slow in accepting it in our own lives. However, In relationship with God through faith in Jesus as personal Savior and Lord and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in us, we can grow to accept sacrifice and suffering with Joy. This sentiment is expressed in I Peter 4:12-16: “12Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. 13But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. 14If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. 15If you suffer, it should not be as a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even as a meddler. 16However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name."
Glory, praises, and all honor to all mankind's newborn Messiah and King!
Our story starts after a Philadelphia-Milwaukee round trip, where we incurred takeoff delays in Milwaukee because of not one but two airborne emergencies of Northwest Airlines and United Express planes. After uneventful outcomes of both we blasted off for the ‘City of brotherly love’, grateful that no one was had been hurt.
As a side note, a ‘monumentally impressive snow and rainmaker of a winter storm’ (TV Weatherman impersonation) was producing only a cold and constant rain at Brew City’s Mitchell field. Freezing rain or snow, which was then located to the north and west of Milwaukee, would’ve delayed us twenty minutes or more to de-ice and anti-ice our aircraft. The frontal boundary of this weather system eventually stretched like an upside down horseshoe from the east coast over the Great Lakes and down into the southern plains states. They had blizzard warnings for Iowa and Oklahoma on the same day. The best part is this big storm was moving slowly. They’ve had flood warnings in the east, from days of rain far ahead of the snowy part of the storm system. You can see from the weather map that moisture from the Atlantic Ocean is being drawn up the east coast and across the Great Lakes, helping to feed moisture to the already snow laden atmosphere.
Back to our Christmas story, to start it that is; kind of like the background of the traditional Christmas story, it takes a little to get it going. We arrived a little late in Philadelphia from Milwaukee, and were to swap into a new aircraft for a flight from Philadelphia to Albany, New York for our overnight. I had been flying with reserve Co-Pilots on this trip, and I called our Dispatcher to ask three questions: for a meal break for my Flight Attendant and I, where our plane we were to swap into was, and who my new First Officer (FO) was. He was fine with the meal break, as we had skipped lunch, and told me that our FO, a reserve pilot from one of our other bases, had been in PHL for two hours. Arriving at the gate with Chinese food in my hand, our jet was ‘cold and dark’, airline parlance for not powered up, no electricity and no heat. What it really meant was that my new FO wasn’t present, for some reason. I put on my best poker face in front of fifty anxious passengers and one mainline pilot/jumpseater, then the Flight Attendant and I walked down the jetway to the plane. After firing up the APU to prepare the plane I called Crew Scheduling to advise them that FO ______ wasn’t present. I was quickly concerned when Crew Scheduling was surprised that he wasn’t there and began trying to track him down.
My good Flight Attendant and I agreed not to board the jet until Crew Scheduling had found an FO for the flight, this one or a new one. He wasn’t happy about it, but we advised the gate agent of this, and I became worried that the flight would be cancelled. Crew Scheduling determined that ________ had commuted back to his base for the night, and they started trying to find a new FO for us.
Rachael, our Flight Attendant, brought sodas and water to our fifty Albany bound passengers waiting at the gate. A Gate manager who was helping oversee everything brought out pretzels to the passengers as well. By now we were the last Express flight out of PHL on Christmas Eve, and my optimism was fading fast.
I went out and spoke to a few passengers about the delay, trying to bite my tongue concerning what I suspected our FO had done: essentially ditched us, the company, and fifty Empire Capital bound passengers just before one of the Holiest days and biggest Holidays of the year. A passenger asked me about the new departure time on the monitor. It now showed a 9:40 PM departure time, 2:40 later than we had been scheduled. I called Crew Scheduling (CS) back to ask about it. They informed me that the pilots of a flight currently landing at Elmira-Corning, New York would reposition a jet without passengers back to PHL and the FO from that plane would fly with our crew to Albany (ALB) for the night. Good news!
CS and our Dispatch Coordinator had worked a Christmas Miracle. They had tried assigning ready reserve pilots (different than normal reserve) but they were off duty, no other reserve pilots were available in PHL, and they called to ‘junior man’ pilots but no one was answering their phones (understandably). They had done almost everything they could to find a pilot to assign this flight to, and the only trick they had left was to extend a crew who were still on duty’s schedule, fortunately it worked.
I hated the idea of canceling this flight on Christmas Eve. The visual I had of the suffering these people would experience in not making it to loved ones for Christmas Morning was difficult to me to bear. I’m very grateful that my company and others went the extra mile to find an FO and not cancel this flight. They did more than just avoid a cancellation and the expense of putting fifty customers up in a hotel for the night. They saved Christmas for them!
I’d like to give ‘gold stars’ to my Flight Attendant Rachael, the gate agents, and ramp agents for taking great care of the passengers during this delay, and staying to see our flight out, and especially to my airline’s Dispatch Coordinator and CS Personnel responsible for not canceling this flight and for finding a replacement FO. To strand passengers in PHL on Christmas Eve because of this would have been a very unfortunate thing to do. My company and the others involved spent thousands of dollars more than necessary to get this flight out, but I’m proud of their response in this situation.
I had asked the CS person if she could share any details with me about the first FO’s missed flight assignment. CS contacted him at 7 PM on the 23rd during an overnight stay, via a voice mail message, with the PHL-ALB flight assignment. He didn’t call back, and CS left him another voice mail message on this Christmas Eve during his day of flying. He didn’t return this call either and commuted back to his base after arriving back in PHL after flying three flights. CS wasn’t happy with this person’s actions, and it seemed that this situation would definitely be addressed by management, and rightly so.
I and Rachael were angry and embarrassed, frankly, to hear of these events: angry at this employee, whom neither of us knew, and embarrassed that someone at our airline would do such a thing. While I don’t know his side of the story, it seemed to us that our FO intentionally missed his flight assignment, just in order to be home on Christmas Eve. For a reserve pilot to not call back about a new flight assignment to be flown on a scheduled day of reserve duty is very unprofessional, but even more so on a holiday like Christmas Eve.
I went back to preparing for our ‘Santa’ flight. Our jet’s wingtips were collecting frost, so I requested a de-ice. A PHL Operations Manager responded, but ultimately requested a change of aircraft because the deicing trucks had been shut down for the night, and the de-icing crews had gone home for the night as well (can’t blame them really). Our Dispatcher changed our jet to the one being repositioned to PHL, bringing in our new FO, assigned to our PHL-ALB flight. This plane was “negative APU” (APU inoperative) so I requested an air start cart (for the engines) and a GPU. The circus music had already replaced the Christmas music in my head, and it was getting louder. Fortunately and thankfully our ramp agents and gate agents had not abandoned us, and continued to take care of our needs.
With only the Captain and our ‘savior’ FO on board, our new jet arrived and parked next to our frosty one. The ground crew plugged the GPU (ground power unit) in and we had electricity on the aircraft without having to run one of the engines. Rachael, our new FO and I prepared it and boarded our 50 passengers for ALB ASAP. We pushed back just after ten PM, three hours late.
This night, Christmas Eve night, we had had a Grinch who tried to steal Christmas from our passengers, a selfish fellow with an ugly attitude, thinking only about himself and not others he was to serve. True Christmas spirit, that of giving, serving, and sacrifice, and ultimately of suffering, was not in him. It reminds me of how secular traditions – the commercialization of Christmas (giving gifts, Santa, etc.) and applied humanist philosophies try to steal it from it’s true reason: The celebration of the human birth of Immanuel, ‘God with us’ (Isaiah 7:14) , The prophesied Messiah for the Jewish people and all mankind, Jesus Christ.
There were many prophecies fulfilled just by the birth of Christ. Concerning his birth, the who it was, what would happen, when it would occur, where it would occur, how it would occur, and of what lineage the Messiah would be was prophesied of hundreds and thousands of years before Jesus birth. For two websites worth exploring these prophesies at, click here and here.
Why do I write of Christmas in this way, that it includes sacrifice and suffering? The original, true Christmas story had these elements. Mary and Joseph were certainly cursed at under the breath of others, and possibly ostracized by those who didn’t believe their ‘Holy Spirit conceived pregnancy while still a virgin’ story (Matthew 1:18-25, Luke 1:26-37) that no doubt made the rounds in their town of Nazareth. There’s suffering there.
The arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem that they made during the final stages of her pregnancy involved suffering and sacrifices as well. It was 70 miles, and tradition says that Joseph walked and Mary was on a donkey. The census, called by Caesar Augustus, was to collect taxes for the Roman Empire, and required that everyone travel to their hometown (Luke 2:1-5). By God’s sovereign plan this requirement enabled fulfillment of the prophecy that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, given by Micah the Prophet in Mica 5:2: “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, are only a small village among all the people of Judah. Yet a ruler of Israel will come from you, one whose origins are from the distant past.”
We humans love signs from the divine, and in the Christmas story, one of the signs ‘of the new King’ was given to ‘wise men from the east’. From Matthew 2:1-12, wise men from the east ask King Herod in Jerusalem “Where is the new born king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” Why did this signal to the wise men that a new King was born? According to a Bible guide I have, some astronomers calculate that in 7 BC Jupiter and Saturn lined up inside the Pisces constellation not once, but three times. On the ancient Middle Eastern horoscope, Jupiter represented kings, Saturn represented the Jews, and Pisces (fish) represented the Jewish homeland, so it seemed that a Jewish King was arriving at the Jewish homeland! Click here for a Theoretical Astrophysicist’s interesting opinion on it.
What a great sign this was! And I’m grateful that I received a sign this night, a skeptic might say it was coincidence, but I have faith in Jesus, and prefer to use it when I can. Our great sign this night was the name of our new FO, whose last name was ‘King’, I kid you not. He was easy to work with, understanding of the situation, he even called me sir, kept doing it too, even after I told him he didn’t need to. A ‘King’ who suffers and serves, he had those traits in common with the Lord.
If you’re thinking ‘baby Jesus didn’t suffer’ you’re probably right (except for the animal dung smell!), but suffering was part of his destiny. By reading the gospels one can see that He never turned away when faced with suffering and sacrifice. We Christians are quick to accept his serving, suffering, and sacrifice for us, but tend to be slow in accepting it in our own lives. However, In relationship with God through faith in Jesus as personal Savior and Lord and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in us, we can grow to accept sacrifice and suffering with Joy. This sentiment is expressed in I Peter 4:12-16: “12Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. 13But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. 14If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. 15If you suffer, it should not be as a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even as a meddler. 16However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name."
Glory, praises, and all honor to all mankind's newborn Messiah and King!
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas everyone! Lots of snow and blizzard conditions where I have loved ones, be careful out there! I'm in Albany, NY, and am scheduled to fly to Philadelphia, PA, then to Cincinati, OH tonight. I have a great Christmas story I'd like to share, but will get to it later. I promise. Thanks for reading my blog again!
The promised Messiah for all of mankind, Jesus Christ, Immanuel, 'God with us', is born this Christmas morning!
The promised Messiah for all of mankind, Jesus Christ, Immanuel, 'God with us', is born this Christmas morning!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Scrooged!
Yesterday started out nice in Milwaukee, and finished nice in Philadelphia, but in between it was murky, foggy, and tenuous with the scene of the world outside the windows, and eventually the question of where I would lay my head for the night.
Our scheduled day was Milwaukee (MKE) - Charlotte (CLT) – Harrisburg, PA (MDT) – CLT – Washington, DC (DCA). Most of it went according to plan. The first flight to Charlotte went well, except for light turbulence the second half, in ‘IMC’ (the clouds) over the Blue Ridge and Smokey Mountains portion of the Appalachians, pointed toward Charlotte. Once over the CLT terminal area, most of the white skies gave way to an undercast layer far below us, guarding the ground with a blanket of Sunday Football watching nap weather, which I wished I had the opportunity to do instead of shepherding planes full of trusting holiday travelers.
In very light winds, I flew the garden variety ILS (Instrument Landing System) approach, but in ‘solid’ conditions. We didn’t spend much time in the thin layer before we broke out at about 350 feet above the runway, which was covered in moisture from a light drizzle. A temperature inversion (which is a layer of air which is warmer at a higher altitude than it is below) hugged the ground. The cooler temperature on the ground promised that the conditions were all set to get worse, and we trusted that it would.
It was my First Officer’s legs to be the PF (pilot flying) from Charlotte to Harrisburg and back, more infamously known as ‘Three Mile Island’, which the airport is very close to. He’s an Asian-American, was born and raised in Hawaii, and is a long way from home. Very easy to work with, he’s a good, knowledgeable pilot, and quiet and good natured. Harrisburg had a thin overcast too, and the air was so smooth during his approach that you wouldn’t have known it otherwise. I called the ‘approach lights in sight’ at about 500 feet AGL (Above Ground Level) and he landed nicely on the long, misty runway.
After a visit to McDonald’s, and not a healthy salad but a greasy third pound burger and fries (comfort food when missing my three wife and two girls back home), I was ready to jump through the murk back to Charlotte. We had a guest up front, a jumpseating Piedmont First Officer who was in his fourth year there, flying the Dash-8 Turboprop and based at Harrisburg. Piedmont is a proud carrier, a rare regional airline which hasn’t ‘lowered the bar’ and taken paycuts and concessions in exchange for Regional Jets. Good for them, I say, but on the other hand, I’d bet that it can be a heartache seeing all those RJ’s taxi by while you’re making a career commanding an out of fashion and out of favor turboprop. I’m not demeaning T-prop’s, just commiserating with their pilots, that’s all. I think the Dash-8 Q400 (which Piedmont doesn’t fly BTW) is a great plane, but for that many seats (74) a pilot should be paid a great hourly rate.
“US Express thirty-seven-fourty-nine, right turn heading one-eight-zero” Harrisburg departure told us as my FO climbed our jetliner out of the clouds into the night sky. As we turned, the Three Mile Island Nuclear Power Plant loomed seemingly just right below us. The enveloping mist around the tall, hourglass shaped cooling towers and other structures tried to hide it all from view, but the power plant’s bright white lights and ‘aviation red’ obstruction lights would have no part of that. It was a surreal moment surrounding a still amazing and controversial energy technology.
From here onward to Charlotte and part way back to DC, we would observe the earth’s new portrayal of itself, as a gray, white and orange, marbled, spider webbed and interconnected surface. Lights of civilization from the cities, towns, and highways below were illuminating through the thin layer of clouds and fog. For me, it was yet another reminder of how Jesus Christ gives light, true light, his true light, to us, and how he penetrates our hearts, through whatever fog and clouds are in our lives.
We chased some more green light on the way to Charlotte, and had good conversation with our Jumpseater. I made a mental note to see whether the green light in a fading dusk horizon from 20,000 feet is observable on terra firma, and yesterday, when driving home, I verified that it is not. You now have another reason to book a flight, in order to cross the sky and appreciate an exquisitely beautiful sunset and dusky sky.
For our second approach into Charlotte, we still had a thin overcast layer and temperature inversion, but the conditions had gotten significantly worse on the ground. Charlotte was reporting almost calm winds, ½ mile visibility with mist, and a thin cloud layer starting at 300 feet above the ground. The businesslike tone of the controllers and the pilots on the frequency reflected the seriousness of the atmosphere.
Upon checking on with Charlotte Approach, they told us that the runway ‘three-six right’ (36R) RVR was 2000. RVR stands for ‘Runway Visual Range’, and is a measured horizontal visibility that governs instrument approaches in poor visibility. Our airline’s minimum legal visibility permitted for an approach is 1,800 feet, so it was approaching our legal minimums for an instrument approach.
He had already briefed the ILS approach to 36R, so all that was left to do was to cross our t’s and dot our i’s regarding our procedures and such on the approach. Since I take the plane off the runway, I briefed that we would take the first exit we saw at a slow enough speed, or as the tower cleared us. It was likely they would want us clear of the first available taxiway. We both knew that the likelihood of going around was good, so we were mentally prepared for that, as we always are, but more so this time.
One of the components of the ILS is the approach lighting system. It is a sequenced line of lights on the ground, extended from the beginning of the runway up to a half a mile, and on some runways the runway itself has touchdown zone lighting, symmetrically on both sides of the runway centerline. ATC can turn these lights up very brightly, to make it easier to see the approach lights and runway through the low fog and mist. Only I forgot to brief my FO on how bright these lights would be, so bright that they take away all of your depth perception in the landing flare. Even with all our jet’s landing lights on, you can’t see the runway surface.
He did a fine job though. By the time he was flaring the plane for landing it was readily apparent that there was no depth perception. I didn’t want to distract him at that point, so I didn’t say anything. You would think this is a no brainer for airline pilot pros, but we see these conditions only about three times a year – twice in real life and once in the simulator. My FO has been at our airline for over three years, and he told me after we taxied in that it was the lowest visibility he’s actually landed in as the pilot flying.
Those conditions aren’t anything to fool around in. Unfortunately, later that night, after we departed Charlotte for Washington DC, another airline’s MD-80 had a landing mishap after continuing an approach in those foggy conditions when they perhaps should have gone around. The crew landed with one main landing gear on the edge of the runway. Then, in trying to steer the jet back onto the runway, one of it’s wingtips struck the ground. It is reported that these pilots reported trouble with their autopilot and disconnected it during the approach, electing to hand fly it the rest of the way to touchdown.
After a landing accident from an unstabilized approach that my own airline had a couple of years ago, (with no lives lost or injuries, thank God), my airline now has a policy of requiring the autopilot to fly the approach to the missed approach point when the visibility below 3 miles. Some of our pilots opine that they’re restricting our ‘freedom’, but I believe this policy is a good thing.
Taxiing out of Charlotte later, I had to take it very slowly; it was so foggy that ground control was relying on position reports from the aircraft. Seeing other jets on the ground itself was difficult. They tended to show up like silvery lit sets of lights, sliding by like ghosts among the colored Christmas tree lights of the taxiways and runways (I like colored lights on Christmas trees). ‘What is that jumbo jet Airbus doing?’ He turned toward us on the runway we were crossing as he was taxiing to the gate after landing. Suddenly he looked a lot bigger and we wondered if he saw us like we saw him. He was a normal narrow body Airbus after all, 320 series. The fog made planes seem bigger, and they sneak up on you quicker.
In a long line for takeoff, we enjoyed watching the airliners (which had lower legal landing minimums than our airline does) break out of the low overcast and land virtually immediately. The clouds were now reported as 100 feet above the ground and the visibility was variable between 1200-1400 RVR. We had asked our dispatcher for a takeoff alternate at the gate, he knew we would call and was planning it for us. Since we were limited to RVR 1800 when landing at Charlotte, if we had an engine failure or another emergency we wouldn’t be able to return to Charlotte. On our release I ‘pen and inked’ the ‘TOA’ and we were on our way.
The trend seemed to be that a blanket of fog was being thrown all across the south. DC’s forecast wasn’t that bad, relatively speaking. It was supposed to be “31005KT 2SM BR OVC003” (light winds from the northwest, two miles visibility, mist, overcast clouds 300 feet above the ground) by the time we arrived after a 50 minute flight. I was the pilot flying this leg, and by the time I finished my salad in cruise flight, Washington center gave us the standard clearance to “Descend to cross OJAAY at one-zero thousand, two-five-zero knots”. OJAAY is an ‘intersection’ on our route of flight into DC from the south, and ATC wanted us to cross it at 10,000 feet at 250 MPH.
My good FO had just brought up the weather report from DC. It was “19003KT 1/2SM FG OVC001”, with the visibility of ½ mile at our approach minimums. The RVR reports would tell the tale on whether we would get in, or even fly the approach. Soon Washington center gave a clearance to turn back behind where we were and enter ‘the published holding pattern’ at JIMBE intersection. We never made it to OJAAY. After my good FO programmed the holding pattern at JIMBE in our FMS (Flight Management System-computer) I said “execute”, punched the right buttons and twisted the right knobs, and our jet magically entered the holding pattern, flying the oval racetrack pattern depicted on our moving map display.
Meanwhile, the RVR reports from DC weren’t good. It was 800-1200, and the absolute minimum RVR at DC for any aircraft (due to limited ground equipment and approach lights etc.) is 1600. Under these conditions, no aircraft were getting into DC tonight. The weather forecast for DC had been in the neighborhood, but the ‘weather guessers’ had still basically blown it. A revised forecast we received via our ACARS box predicted that the thick fog would stick around DC for the night.
We had about 30-40 minutes of fuel to hold with, with four or five other forlorn airliners waiting for DC above and below us. As usual, there is lots to do when holding, waiting, wondering if you’ll divert to your alternate airport or another airport: update the passengers, the Flight Attendant, communicate with Dispatch, check and re-check the weather reports and forecasts at your respective airports, and look for meteors falling through the sky.
Uh, that last part is rare but true. We were lucky enough to be flying in a clear sky on the night of maximum meteor activity of the annual Geminids meteor shower. My FO had spotted a few more than me, but after I learned where to look I started catching up. It was the only consolation I could offer our passengers as we waited for our bingo fuel to arrive or for the fog to lift at DC.
Our bingo fuel, calculated by our Dispatcher, and verified by us, is the minimum fuel we could leave the holding pattern with, fly the approach at DC, go missed approach, and continue to our alternate and land with IFR reserves (45 minutes worth of fuel) at our alternate, which in this case was Philadelphia. PHL seemed like a long way for an alternate, my FO stated, and I tended to agree with him. We checked the weather at nearby Washington DC Dulles (IAD) and Baltimore (BWI). It was fine at BWI and marginal at IAD, but we might be able to get in there. We ‘emailed’ over our ACARS box to Dispatch our suggestion to divert to IAD instead of PHL, but they didn’t take the bait. He kept responding that “PHL is ready for you”. PHL did have better facilities for receiving a stray US Air Express flight, as it’s a hub for them. But I was visualizing unhappy passengers getting off the plane in PHL asking ‘why didn’t we land at Dulles or Baltimore?’. We crept down closer and closer to our bingo fuel with every meteor sighted.
After holding for about 40 minutes we reached our bingo fuel of 3,800 lbs, and set things in motion with ATC to divert to PHL. Away from blanketed ground beneath us we went toward the bare, fog free Virginia and Maryland peninsulas, towards unclouded Philadelphia and a 20 mile line of aircraft on final approach. That’s a long final approach, it seemed Philly was running a reduced ATC operation, using only one runway for landing. A normal flight from Charlotte to DC usually takes 1:25 total, with this diversion to Philly it took 3:08.
Yes, the people were not happy, especially when the gate agent announced on board that the flight had been cancelled. It was a weather cancellation, which meant that the airline wasn’t liable for providing a hotel for inconvenienced passengers. I know, I know, but I just fly the plane, I don’t make up the rules. Comments like “I’ll miss an important meeting because of this”, “did the Airbus flying from Charlotte to DC make it in?” (no), and of course “three airports in DC, what about going to Baltimore?” were faced by me with the best apologetic, empathetic smile I could muster.
At the hotel a while later, at 1 AM I tried to settle into my comfortable room, but my head was still buzzing with the experiences and sights we had this day. My heart had a flurry of activity too, feeling for our passengers so close, but yet so far from where they thought they would be. I was looking forward to going home, on an unknown early flight from Philly to Minneapolis or Chicago, then on the final leg to Sioux Falls. I was missing my wife and two girls dearly. I hadn’t seen my wife but for a couple hours the last time I had been home. She had traveled to be with her father in Omaha, in the hospital.
The internet didn’t work for my laptop in my room, so I would have to guess on the time and airline to jumpseat on. Murphy, as in Murphy’s law, was running the show. After four hours sleep I clawed my way to the airport and picked Northwest, even against my instincts telling me to go to United. My flight had a maintenance delay. Once at MSP, I learned that the flight I could’ve taken to Sioux Falls, if I had been on time, had cancelled. Passengers and jumpseating pilots from the cancelled flight spilled over in the departure lounge. Soon I missed the next two flights on regional jets, and finally caught the third one home, it had taken 12+ hours.
I was home for 22 hours, as I had only two days off and had an early show for next trip I had to commute back to DC for. But I had a great 22 hour layover at home. Sometimes this job, and life, goes this way. Sometimes you get Scrooged, by the weather and your commute. But God doesn’t say in the Bible that you won’t get scrooged. He does say that He will be there for you when it happens.
Thanks for reading my blog. ‘Happy Holidays’, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope to post again for Christmas, before the year is out.
Our scheduled day was Milwaukee (MKE) - Charlotte (CLT) – Harrisburg, PA (MDT) – CLT – Washington, DC (DCA). Most of it went according to plan. The first flight to Charlotte went well, except for light turbulence the second half, in ‘IMC’ (the clouds) over the Blue Ridge and Smokey Mountains portion of the Appalachians, pointed toward Charlotte. Once over the CLT terminal area, most of the white skies gave way to an undercast layer far below us, guarding the ground with a blanket of Sunday Football watching nap weather, which I wished I had the opportunity to do instead of shepherding planes full of trusting holiday travelers.
In very light winds, I flew the garden variety ILS (Instrument Landing System) approach, but in ‘solid’ conditions. We didn’t spend much time in the thin layer before we broke out at about 350 feet above the runway, which was covered in moisture from a light drizzle. A temperature inversion (which is a layer of air which is warmer at a higher altitude than it is below) hugged the ground. The cooler temperature on the ground promised that the conditions were all set to get worse, and we trusted that it would.
It was my First Officer’s legs to be the PF (pilot flying) from Charlotte to Harrisburg and back, more infamously known as ‘Three Mile Island’, which the airport is very close to. He’s an Asian-American, was born and raised in Hawaii, and is a long way from home. Very easy to work with, he’s a good, knowledgeable pilot, and quiet and good natured. Harrisburg had a thin overcast too, and the air was so smooth during his approach that you wouldn’t have known it otherwise. I called the ‘approach lights in sight’ at about 500 feet AGL (Above Ground Level) and he landed nicely on the long, misty runway.
After a visit to McDonald’s, and not a healthy salad but a greasy third pound burger and fries (comfort food when missing my three wife and two girls back home), I was ready to jump through the murk back to Charlotte. We had a guest up front, a jumpseating Piedmont First Officer who was in his fourth year there, flying the Dash-8 Turboprop and based at Harrisburg. Piedmont is a proud carrier, a rare regional airline which hasn’t ‘lowered the bar’ and taken paycuts and concessions in exchange for Regional Jets. Good for them, I say, but on the other hand, I’d bet that it can be a heartache seeing all those RJ’s taxi by while you’re making a career commanding an out of fashion and out of favor turboprop. I’m not demeaning T-prop’s, just commiserating with their pilots, that’s all. I think the Dash-8 Q400 (which Piedmont doesn’t fly BTW) is a great plane, but for that many seats (74) a pilot should be paid a great hourly rate.
“US Express thirty-seven-fourty-nine, right turn heading one-eight-zero” Harrisburg departure told us as my FO climbed our jetliner out of the clouds into the night sky. As we turned, the Three Mile Island Nuclear Power Plant loomed seemingly just right below us. The enveloping mist around the tall, hourglass shaped cooling towers and other structures tried to hide it all from view, but the power plant’s bright white lights and ‘aviation red’ obstruction lights would have no part of that. It was a surreal moment surrounding a still amazing and controversial energy technology.
From here onward to Charlotte and part way back to DC, we would observe the earth’s new portrayal of itself, as a gray, white and orange, marbled, spider webbed and interconnected surface. Lights of civilization from the cities, towns, and highways below were illuminating through the thin layer of clouds and fog. For me, it was yet another reminder of how Jesus Christ gives light, true light, his true light, to us, and how he penetrates our hearts, through whatever fog and clouds are in our lives.
We chased some more green light on the way to Charlotte, and had good conversation with our Jumpseater. I made a mental note to see whether the green light in a fading dusk horizon from 20,000 feet is observable on terra firma, and yesterday, when driving home, I verified that it is not. You now have another reason to book a flight, in order to cross the sky and appreciate an exquisitely beautiful sunset and dusky sky.
For our second approach into Charlotte, we still had a thin overcast layer and temperature inversion, but the conditions had gotten significantly worse on the ground. Charlotte was reporting almost calm winds, ½ mile visibility with mist, and a thin cloud layer starting at 300 feet above the ground. The businesslike tone of the controllers and the pilots on the frequency reflected the seriousness of the atmosphere.
Upon checking on with Charlotte Approach, they told us that the runway ‘three-six right’ (36R) RVR was 2000. RVR stands for ‘Runway Visual Range’, and is a measured horizontal visibility that governs instrument approaches in poor visibility. Our airline’s minimum legal visibility permitted for an approach is 1,800 feet, so it was approaching our legal minimums for an instrument approach.
He had already briefed the ILS approach to 36R, so all that was left to do was to cross our t’s and dot our i’s regarding our procedures and such on the approach. Since I take the plane off the runway, I briefed that we would take the first exit we saw at a slow enough speed, or as the tower cleared us. It was likely they would want us clear of the first available taxiway. We both knew that the likelihood of going around was good, so we were mentally prepared for that, as we always are, but more so this time.
One of the components of the ILS is the approach lighting system. It is a sequenced line of lights on the ground, extended from the beginning of the runway up to a half a mile, and on some runways the runway itself has touchdown zone lighting, symmetrically on both sides of the runway centerline. ATC can turn these lights up very brightly, to make it easier to see the approach lights and runway through the low fog and mist. Only I forgot to brief my FO on how bright these lights would be, so bright that they take away all of your depth perception in the landing flare. Even with all our jet’s landing lights on, you can’t see the runway surface.
He did a fine job though. By the time he was flaring the plane for landing it was readily apparent that there was no depth perception. I didn’t want to distract him at that point, so I didn’t say anything. You would think this is a no brainer for airline pilot pros, but we see these conditions only about three times a year – twice in real life and once in the simulator. My FO has been at our airline for over three years, and he told me after we taxied in that it was the lowest visibility he’s actually landed in as the pilot flying.
Those conditions aren’t anything to fool around in. Unfortunately, later that night, after we departed Charlotte for Washington DC, another airline’s MD-80 had a landing mishap after continuing an approach in those foggy conditions when they perhaps should have gone around. The crew landed with one main landing gear on the edge of the runway. Then, in trying to steer the jet back onto the runway, one of it’s wingtips struck the ground. It is reported that these pilots reported trouble with their autopilot and disconnected it during the approach, electing to hand fly it the rest of the way to touchdown.
After a landing accident from an unstabilized approach that my own airline had a couple of years ago, (with no lives lost or injuries, thank God), my airline now has a policy of requiring the autopilot to fly the approach to the missed approach point when the visibility below 3 miles. Some of our pilots opine that they’re restricting our ‘freedom’, but I believe this policy is a good thing.
Taxiing out of Charlotte later, I had to take it very slowly; it was so foggy that ground control was relying on position reports from the aircraft. Seeing other jets on the ground itself was difficult. They tended to show up like silvery lit sets of lights, sliding by like ghosts among the colored Christmas tree lights of the taxiways and runways (I like colored lights on Christmas trees). ‘What is that jumbo jet Airbus doing?’ He turned toward us on the runway we were crossing as he was taxiing to the gate after landing. Suddenly he looked a lot bigger and we wondered if he saw us like we saw him. He was a normal narrow body Airbus after all, 320 series. The fog made planes seem bigger, and they sneak up on you quicker.
In a long line for takeoff, we enjoyed watching the airliners (which had lower legal landing minimums than our airline does) break out of the low overcast and land virtually immediately. The clouds were now reported as 100 feet above the ground and the visibility was variable between 1200-1400 RVR. We had asked our dispatcher for a takeoff alternate at the gate, he knew we would call and was planning it for us. Since we were limited to RVR 1800 when landing at Charlotte, if we had an engine failure or another emergency we wouldn’t be able to return to Charlotte. On our release I ‘pen and inked’ the ‘TOA’ and we were on our way.
The trend seemed to be that a blanket of fog was being thrown all across the south. DC’s forecast wasn’t that bad, relatively speaking. It was supposed to be “31005KT 2SM BR OVC003” (light winds from the northwest, two miles visibility, mist, overcast clouds 300 feet above the ground) by the time we arrived after a 50 minute flight. I was the pilot flying this leg, and by the time I finished my salad in cruise flight, Washington center gave us the standard clearance to “Descend to cross OJAAY at one-zero thousand, two-five-zero knots”. OJAAY is an ‘intersection’ on our route of flight into DC from the south, and ATC wanted us to cross it at 10,000 feet at 250 MPH.
My good FO had just brought up the weather report from DC. It was “19003KT 1/2SM FG OVC001”, with the visibility of ½ mile at our approach minimums. The RVR reports would tell the tale on whether we would get in, or even fly the approach. Soon Washington center gave a clearance to turn back behind where we were and enter ‘the published holding pattern’ at JIMBE intersection. We never made it to OJAAY. After my good FO programmed the holding pattern at JIMBE in our FMS (Flight Management System-computer) I said “execute”, punched the right buttons and twisted the right knobs, and our jet magically entered the holding pattern, flying the oval racetrack pattern depicted on our moving map display.
Meanwhile, the RVR reports from DC weren’t good. It was 800-1200, and the absolute minimum RVR at DC for any aircraft (due to limited ground equipment and approach lights etc.) is 1600. Under these conditions, no aircraft were getting into DC tonight. The weather forecast for DC had been in the neighborhood, but the ‘weather guessers’ had still basically blown it. A revised forecast we received via our ACARS box predicted that the thick fog would stick around DC for the night.
We had about 30-40 minutes of fuel to hold with, with four or five other forlorn airliners waiting for DC above and below us. As usual, there is lots to do when holding, waiting, wondering if you’ll divert to your alternate airport or another airport: update the passengers, the Flight Attendant, communicate with Dispatch, check and re-check the weather reports and forecasts at your respective airports, and look for meteors falling through the sky.
Uh, that last part is rare but true. We were lucky enough to be flying in a clear sky on the night of maximum meteor activity of the annual Geminids meteor shower. My FO had spotted a few more than me, but after I learned where to look I started catching up. It was the only consolation I could offer our passengers as we waited for our bingo fuel to arrive or for the fog to lift at DC.
Our bingo fuel, calculated by our Dispatcher, and verified by us, is the minimum fuel we could leave the holding pattern with, fly the approach at DC, go missed approach, and continue to our alternate and land with IFR reserves (45 minutes worth of fuel) at our alternate, which in this case was Philadelphia. PHL seemed like a long way for an alternate, my FO stated, and I tended to agree with him. We checked the weather at nearby Washington DC Dulles (IAD) and Baltimore (BWI). It was fine at BWI and marginal at IAD, but we might be able to get in there. We ‘emailed’ over our ACARS box to Dispatch our suggestion to divert to IAD instead of PHL, but they didn’t take the bait. He kept responding that “PHL is ready for you”. PHL did have better facilities for receiving a stray US Air Express flight, as it’s a hub for them. But I was visualizing unhappy passengers getting off the plane in PHL asking ‘why didn’t we land at Dulles or Baltimore?’. We crept down closer and closer to our bingo fuel with every meteor sighted.
After holding for about 40 minutes we reached our bingo fuel of 3,800 lbs, and set things in motion with ATC to divert to PHL. Away from blanketed ground beneath us we went toward the bare, fog free Virginia and Maryland peninsulas, towards unclouded Philadelphia and a 20 mile line of aircraft on final approach. That’s a long final approach, it seemed Philly was running a reduced ATC operation, using only one runway for landing. A normal flight from Charlotte to DC usually takes 1:25 total, with this diversion to Philly it took 3:08.
Yes, the people were not happy, especially when the gate agent announced on board that the flight had been cancelled. It was a weather cancellation, which meant that the airline wasn’t liable for providing a hotel for inconvenienced passengers. I know, I know, but I just fly the plane, I don’t make up the rules. Comments like “I’ll miss an important meeting because of this”, “did the Airbus flying from Charlotte to DC make it in?” (no), and of course “three airports in DC, what about going to Baltimore?” were faced by me with the best apologetic, empathetic smile I could muster.
At the hotel a while later, at 1 AM I tried to settle into my comfortable room, but my head was still buzzing with the experiences and sights we had this day. My heart had a flurry of activity too, feeling for our passengers so close, but yet so far from where they thought they would be. I was looking forward to going home, on an unknown early flight from Philly to Minneapolis or Chicago, then on the final leg to Sioux Falls. I was missing my wife and two girls dearly. I hadn’t seen my wife but for a couple hours the last time I had been home. She had traveled to be with her father in Omaha, in the hospital.
The internet didn’t work for my laptop in my room, so I would have to guess on the time and airline to jumpseat on. Murphy, as in Murphy’s law, was running the show. After four hours sleep I clawed my way to the airport and picked Northwest, even against my instincts telling me to go to United. My flight had a maintenance delay. Once at MSP, I learned that the flight I could’ve taken to Sioux Falls, if I had been on time, had cancelled. Passengers and jumpseating pilots from the cancelled flight spilled over in the departure lounge. Soon I missed the next two flights on regional jets, and finally caught the third one home, it had taken 12+ hours.
I was home for 22 hours, as I had only two days off and had an early show for next trip I had to commute back to DC for. But I had a great 22 hour layover at home. Sometimes this job, and life, goes this way. Sometimes you get Scrooged, by the weather and your commute. But God doesn’t say in the Bible that you won’t get scrooged. He does say that He will be there for you when it happens.
Thanks for reading my blog. ‘Happy Holidays’, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope to post again for Christmas, before the year is out.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Just a little Bit
Recently it happened; I knew it would eventually. In the fallout after a Northwest Airlines flight crew accidentally lost communications with ATC and over flew Minneapolis-St. Paul airport by over 100 miles, I just knew that sometime in the future, an airline passenger would make a rude remark about it in my direction.
I asked the lady finishing her meal if the seat next to her was taken. I was waiting for my pizza while commuting home through Chicago’s O’Hare airport. “I don’t know, are you drinking?” was her reply. I could feel my facial muscles in disappointment as she further stated “do you have a laptop? Where are you going? Are you going to Tampa Bay?” In complete disdain and eye roll mode I exasperated to her “Please. I’m commuting home to where I live, and I’m not drinking, I’m in uniform”. All the while I was asking myself, telling myself, that she is kidding. Right?
My pizza came, albeit with a soggy crust. I was hungry so I squatted down on the stool, popped in my earbuds with my back to my offender, and tried to get over it. The music intended to soothe my frayed nerves was short lived. I felt a soft pat on my back, then another. I knew without looking that it was this lady again, wanting to accost me, or talk, for some reason. Being the gentleman that I am, I obliged her. It turned out that she was fairly nice, but talkative and opinionated, finishing a glass of wine to prime her tongue.
Her husband was a private pilot and wanna be airline pilot, so she just knew everything that goes on up in the flight deck. She knew a little in any regard. We chatted for a while and she told me about her two sons, how blessed I was to have two daughters instead, and how her husband was a retired Marine but he still won’t get rid of his uniforms (don’t know why that’s a problem). Excepting her first comments, she was actually very nice, and she had a Christian cross necklace on, so at least we had the same God in common. It was strange how I was seemingly making friends with this fellow traveler who moments before I had classed as very rude, all without her apologizing or clarifying that she had been kidding me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get comments of that nature again in the future.
In this age of high technology, everyone thinks it’s so easy to be an ‘expert’ on anything. Google it, look it up on Wikipedia, read about it on the internet, and you’re an instant layman on any subject. The saying ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’ hasn’t changed in value, though. The vast capability technology gives us, coupled with easy access to information, has somehow given others a license for ridicule and lampoon when human failings break through the system we trust, as they will always do. The average Joe thinks that just because the jets are so automated, that ‘they can fly themselves, and even land themselves’, that it doesn’t take the same level of skill, discipline, and judgment, and leadership as it used to. “So easy, even a caveman could do it?” I definitely don’t think so.
All in all, it shows a lack of respect that travelers have for pilots these days. Then again, by their own actions and appearances, pilots have tended to show a lack of respect for their profession as well. It's not just the pilots though; I also point the finger of blame at the management and leadership of the airlines. I can? Sure I can, this is my blog. Yes, I think both parties have a share in this.
Here are a few axioms that are current in the industry, common to others as well:
"When they pay me like a professional, then I’ll act like a Professional." I don't agree with this one, but it is common in 'the way of the world'. This is a poor attitude to have, and I've written about this before. When it comes to transporting precious human life through the air, this attitude should be invalidated. The intent should be that professionalism, and thus safety, shouldn't suffer, whether you're flying a puddle jumper or a 747. In fact, the per flight hour safety record of the nineteen seat twin turboprop commuter airlines is virtually the same as that of the majors, and these fellas are some of the hardest working and least paid airline pilots there are. I know, because I was one of them for two years. Being less of a professional just because you feel you're underpaid is itself the epitome of unprofessionalism.
However, airline pilots do make significantly less that they did in the past, mainly because of federal deregulation of the airlines (which occurred under Carter but came to final fruition under Reagan) and the consequent competition in the free marketplace. After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, in bankruptcies and the rise of the 'low cost carriers', things got even worse for airline pilots. Major airline pilots now make one-half or less of what they used to, basically. According to data published in my pilot union's latest newsletter, when corrected for inflation, a 1982 Captain of a 44 seat turboprop would have made more than twice as much today as regional jet Captains are now at our current airlines. When adjusted for inflation, a Republic Airlines (the original Republic Airlines mind you) Captain of a Convair 580 would make $171 per flight hour now, compared to about $70 per flight hour a 50 seat RJ Captain currently makes. Airline pilots get paid for approximately 1,000 hours a year, so you can do the math.
(Free market Conservative Capitalist steps in): 'Time out now, Craig. You blamed airline management, and now said they (the government) deregulated the airlines, which in turn forced them to compete more with each other in the free marketplace. It's only logical that airline managements would try to reduce their costs in order to remain competitive, which is what they've done. So what's wrong with management responding to the new market established by deregulation, and why haven't you blamed the government?' Nothing, I suppose. You can't blame someone for trying to defend their standard of living, however. I try to strike a balance between understanding the economic stance of the airlines and establishing what I need, not necessarily want, to get by with and provide for my family. Regarding the government, it is what it is, and they are a few voices calling for regulation of the airlines again, I don't think it will occur though. The intent of deregulation was to reduce the cost of airline travel and make it more affordable for more Americans, and that goal has been achieved.
"You get what you can negotiate, not what you deserve." In capitalism based, free market economy, this holds true, like it or not. Whether you like it depends on how well your company is doing and how much you can negotiate, I suppose. For example, FedEx and UPS pilots currently have excellent pay, the best in the business and substantially better than the passenger airlines, because they've been able to negotiate it, based on the incredible profitability their companies have had in the 2000's.
Regional airlines have been buffeted by extreme pressure to reduce their labor costs, and in many cases have caved, my airline being no exception. Regional airlines have been pitted against each other to compete to be awarded or keep the share of flying they do for their parent carrier. This is called 'whip-sawing', and it hardly existed before deregulation and the rise of regional, or 'contract' carriers.
Airline management has conflicting priorities: one is to maximize profitability; the other is to operate a safe airline. At some point, pushing pilots, real human beings, not machines, to do more and more with less and less in order to save money does affect safety in a negative way.
My bottom line, the bottom line, IMO, is that even though airline pilots make substantially less than they used to, professionalism shouldn't suffer. Safety, or perceived safety, shouldn't suffer either. ALPA, the largest airline pilots union, and airline pilot groups everywhere are in large part responsible for the excellent safety record of the airlines, not airline management. Of course, some airline managements are more attuned to their pilot groups concerns regarding safety than others. Our unions and pilot groups should and will continue for fight against the degradation of professionalism in the flight deck. The honor of our profession and the traveling public's trust is at stake.
I asked the lady finishing her meal if the seat next to her was taken. I was waiting for my pizza while commuting home through Chicago’s O’Hare airport. “I don’t know, are you drinking?” was her reply. I could feel my facial muscles in disappointment as she further stated “do you have a laptop? Where are you going? Are you going to Tampa Bay?” In complete disdain and eye roll mode I exasperated to her “Please. I’m commuting home to where I live, and I’m not drinking, I’m in uniform”. All the while I was asking myself, telling myself, that she is kidding. Right?
My pizza came, albeit with a soggy crust. I was hungry so I squatted down on the stool, popped in my earbuds with my back to my offender, and tried to get over it. The music intended to soothe my frayed nerves was short lived. I felt a soft pat on my back, then another. I knew without looking that it was this lady again, wanting to accost me, or talk, for some reason. Being the gentleman that I am, I obliged her. It turned out that she was fairly nice, but talkative and opinionated, finishing a glass of wine to prime her tongue.
Her husband was a private pilot and wanna be airline pilot, so she just knew everything that goes on up in the flight deck. She knew a little in any regard. We chatted for a while and she told me about her two sons, how blessed I was to have two daughters instead, and how her husband was a retired Marine but he still won’t get rid of his uniforms (don’t know why that’s a problem). Excepting her first comments, she was actually very nice, and she had a Christian cross necklace on, so at least we had the same God in common. It was strange how I was seemingly making friends with this fellow traveler who moments before I had classed as very rude, all without her apologizing or clarifying that she had been kidding me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get comments of that nature again in the future.
In this age of high technology, everyone thinks it’s so easy to be an ‘expert’ on anything. Google it, look it up on Wikipedia, read about it on the internet, and you’re an instant layman on any subject. The saying ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’ hasn’t changed in value, though. The vast capability technology gives us, coupled with easy access to information, has somehow given others a license for ridicule and lampoon when human failings break through the system we trust, as they will always do. The average Joe thinks that just because the jets are so automated, that ‘they can fly themselves, and even land themselves’, that it doesn’t take the same level of skill, discipline, and judgment, and leadership as it used to. “So easy, even a caveman could do it?” I definitely don’t think so.
All in all, it shows a lack of respect that travelers have for pilots these days. Then again, by their own actions and appearances, pilots have tended to show a lack of respect for their profession as well. It's not just the pilots though; I also point the finger of blame at the management and leadership of the airlines. I can? Sure I can, this is my blog. Yes, I think both parties have a share in this.
Here are a few axioms that are current in the industry, common to others as well:
"When they pay me like a professional, then I’ll act like a Professional." I don't agree with this one, but it is common in 'the way of the world'. This is a poor attitude to have, and I've written about this before. When it comes to transporting precious human life through the air, this attitude should be invalidated. The intent should be that professionalism, and thus safety, shouldn't suffer, whether you're flying a puddle jumper or a 747. In fact, the per flight hour safety record of the nineteen seat twin turboprop commuter airlines is virtually the same as that of the majors, and these fellas are some of the hardest working and least paid airline pilots there are. I know, because I was one of them for two years. Being less of a professional just because you feel you're underpaid is itself the epitome of unprofessionalism.
However, airline pilots do make significantly less that they did in the past, mainly because of federal deregulation of the airlines (which occurred under Carter but came to final fruition under Reagan) and the consequent competition in the free marketplace. After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, in bankruptcies and the rise of the 'low cost carriers', things got even worse for airline pilots. Major airline pilots now make one-half or less of what they used to, basically. According to data published in my pilot union's latest newsletter, when corrected for inflation, a 1982 Captain of a 44 seat turboprop would have made more than twice as much today as regional jet Captains are now at our current airlines. When adjusted for inflation, a Republic Airlines (the original Republic Airlines mind you) Captain of a Convair 580 would make $171 per flight hour now, compared to about $70 per flight hour a 50 seat RJ Captain currently makes. Airline pilots get paid for approximately 1,000 hours a year, so you can do the math.
(Free market Conservative Capitalist steps in): 'Time out now, Craig. You blamed airline management, and now said they (the government) deregulated the airlines, which in turn forced them to compete more with each other in the free marketplace. It's only logical that airline managements would try to reduce their costs in order to remain competitive, which is what they've done. So what's wrong with management responding to the new market established by deregulation, and why haven't you blamed the government?' Nothing, I suppose. You can't blame someone for trying to defend their standard of living, however. I try to strike a balance between understanding the economic stance of the airlines and establishing what I need, not necessarily want, to get by with and provide for my family. Regarding the government, it is what it is, and they are a few voices calling for regulation of the airlines again, I don't think it will occur though. The intent of deregulation was to reduce the cost of airline travel and make it more affordable for more Americans, and that goal has been achieved.
"You get what you can negotiate, not what you deserve." In capitalism based, free market economy, this holds true, like it or not. Whether you like it depends on how well your company is doing and how much you can negotiate, I suppose. For example, FedEx and UPS pilots currently have excellent pay, the best in the business and substantially better than the passenger airlines, because they've been able to negotiate it, based on the incredible profitability their companies have had in the 2000's.
Regional airlines have been buffeted by extreme pressure to reduce their labor costs, and in many cases have caved, my airline being no exception. Regional airlines have been pitted against each other to compete to be awarded or keep the share of flying they do for their parent carrier. This is called 'whip-sawing', and it hardly existed before deregulation and the rise of regional, or 'contract' carriers.
Airline management has conflicting priorities: one is to maximize profitability; the other is to operate a safe airline. At some point, pushing pilots, real human beings, not machines, to do more and more with less and less in order to save money does affect safety in a negative way.
My bottom line, the bottom line, IMO, is that even though airline pilots make substantially less than they used to, professionalism shouldn't suffer. Safety, or perceived safety, shouldn't suffer either. ALPA, the largest airline pilots union, and airline pilot groups everywhere are in large part responsible for the excellent safety record of the airlines, not airline management. Of course, some airline managements are more attuned to their pilot groups concerns regarding safety than others. Our unions and pilot groups should and will continue for fight against the degradation of professionalism in the flight deck. The honor of our profession and the traveling public's trust is at stake.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Sequestered in Manchester
The very first flight I had after four days off promised to be an interesting one, and it delivered. I was paired up on this three day trip with a First Officer whom I had flown with before; by previous experience we knew what each other was like, and the best way to work together. That is the good part; the bad is that we had had previous disagreements, to the point of anger and even ‘butting heads’, so to speak. We had resolved our previous conflict the best we could, but there was still some lingering resentment between us.
Encountering conflict of this scale and nature is rare for me and my personality type, so it is stressful and trying for me when it happens. I prefer not to disparage my Co-Pilots too much, so I can’t reveal many details of our past. I will volunteer that I’m not the only Captain “Sean” has perturbed and ‘butted heads’ with, however.
Everyone has positive attributes, no matter where a co-worker may fall on the entirely subjective and individualized scale of desirability of workmates that we all have. One person might like a trait a co-worker has, the next person might not. These days I sincerely try to identify valuable characteristics that my co-workers do bring to the job. If I can change how I work with them to play to their individual strengths, it makes our work performance together more effective, permits them to be themselves, and enables me to appreciate them for the persons they are.
My Co-Pilot seemed pleased to see me. My first reaction was thinking that we would get along fine on this trip; over time I’ve realized that he has a personality type is that is direct and clear, but can be confrontational. Sean is like a desert: although he heats up fast, the good thing is that he cools down fast as well. Translation: his temper will flare, but most likely it will be over in a short while.
That being out of the way, it was a beautiful day on the east coast, blue skies and ‘High Pressure dominating’ in TV Weatherman speak, as we climbed out of DC for Manchester, New Hampshire. At 23,000 feet and just past the New York City area in smooth, clear air, with about forty minutes left in the flight, we heard the ding. This wasn’t the sound of the seat belt sign being turned off, either.
Accompanied by the bell was a yellow flashing ‘master caution’ light on a panel in front of us, and a new message in yellow on one of our flight displays. “IDG2” is what it read. I pushed the master caution switch to cancel the flashing light and show the airplane that we acknowledged the message. The IDG2 message then disappeared and reappeared for a few seconds numerous times over the next minute. “Let’s do the QRH, there’s obviously a problem with it”, I said. My First Officer replied “it’s been written up and MEL’d before”. That fact wasn’t surprising to me in the least.
Before I lose you, the IDG is an Integrated Drive Generator, which is driven by the engine, and produces electricity for the jet. Our IDG for our right engine was malfunctioning. IDG’s are filled with oil and work in a similar manner to the automatic transmission of a car. When an IDG malfunctions, the most likely reason is that the oil level inside it is too low.
The QRH is our Quick Reference Handbook, which contains emergency and abnormal checklists for just about any abnormal or emergency condition the jet can encounter. “Sean” was soon finding the QRH checklist for an IDG2 message. MEL stands for ‘Minimum Equipment List’. We have a long list, FAA approved, of things we can fly with broken. It may seem strange but there are plenty of things we can fly with broken, all we have to do is document it with our Maintenance department and abide by the MEL operating procedures. Don’t worry, the MEL is conservative, and an engine is not ‘MELable’, so to speak.
Down the QRH road we went. As the PM (Pilot monitoring), Sean would read it and I, as the PF (Pilot Flying) would perform the actions the QRH specifies. Very soon I was verifying, touching, and activating guarded switches. If I disconnected the wrong IDG, our IDG1, the ‘good’ generator, it would reduce us to emergency power and would promise a hot cup of coffee with the Chief Pilot. That is why certain switches have guarded covers, so that both pilots may verify that the correct switches are being selected in an abnormal or emergency situation.
First the QRH checklist had me take the bad IDG ‘off-line’ and completely disconnect it from the number two (right) engine. It could only be reconnected on the ground. Then per the checklist I started the APU (Auxiliary Power Unit) to restore the electrical power the jet lost when taking IDG2 off-line. The autopilot disconnected when I ‘killed’ IDG2, I should’ve seen it coming but I still have ‘quick hands’, even though I just turned forty. The workload wasn’t too bad, as we could still re-engage the autopilot, and now prepare for the descent and approach into Manchester.
A nice cloud layer above New Hampshire, with mist, two miles visibility, and a 500 foot cloud ceiling in Manchester made for a busy arrival. Lots of question had yet to be answered after our jet had a fit, and with the time remaining to land we could only ask them. Could we “MEL” the bad IDG and still carry passengers out of Manchester to Philadelphia? Would the on call Mechanic arrive quickly and be able to address our problem? How long would the departure delay to PHL be? Would our Maintenance department want the jet repaired or MEL’d? Should we delay passenger boarding? How many irritated passengers would our Flight Attendant have to deal with?
The biggest problem we encountered on the ground was the gate agents bothering us to board our PHL passenger aircraft, close up, and push back before everything was completed. The prompt, on call mechanic found that IDG2 was a little low on oil, sure enough, and was completing the paperwork to defer repairing it until a later time. For our now late departure to Philadelphia, we needed a whole new set of paperwork from our Dispatcher sent over the wire. Manchester had conscientious gate and ramp agents; however, they could have more patience and understanding in what it takes to address a mechanical problem, that’s a common trait of outstations at times. “No, we need our aircraft logbook back, we need new paperwork from our Dispatcher, and then we need at least five minutes to do checklists and prepare for this flight, before we can close the doors and push back. Thank you”; this was the sentiment that was difficult to communicate to them. We pushed back 23 minutes late, not too bad for what we had to deal with.
Fortunately, we weren’t ‘sequestered in Manchester’ very long; but it makes for a catchy blog post title, which I can’t let slide. I was to be sequestered with “Sean” for three days instead. He would love to be a Captain, and I would say with certainty that he doesn’t necessarily enjoy being a First Officer. He has less “right-seat Captain” in him than he used to, I have recognized that. A certain stubbornness is still there, however. For me, it’s a balancing act to ‘hold the reins’ wherein we’re both comfortable with the operation. In regard to him and me getting along, the trip went along fairly well. Sean will be a good Captain someday, but he'll just have to wait, unfortuntely.
Fast forward to a later departure of the day, enough about flight crew dynamics and interpersonal working relationships for now. For our third leg of day, Sean was the pilot flying out of the vibrant and varied cites of Norfolk and Virginia Beach, Virginia. Taking off to the northeast just after sunset, he hand flew the climbing left turn to the west that Norfolk Departure Control gave us.
Wow, what a view it was; we both gazed at the colors in silence, partly because we were still below 10,000 feet altitude and were still in ‘sterile cockpit’, partly because no words from our American English vocabularies could justify the scene in front of us.
Below the sharply defined horizon, in a silver sheen the waterways and bays surrounding Norfolk split up the darkening and light twinkling peninsulas of the ‘Hampton roads’ area. Red, like pigment taken from a rose, hugged the horizon. Our CRJ climbed in smooth air to ‘flight level two-two zero’ (basically 22,000 feet) and we both sat in continuing silence admiring Nature’s (God’s) palette of the fading day.
Remember art class in elementary school? Combine blue and yellow and you get green, and there we were ‘chasing the green light’ once again, between the blue and what yellow there was. The view was slowly changing, as the sun raced away from us towards the west. The once red stripe slowly changed to a deep orange-red, which seemingly permitted the yellow to blossom more, now flickering with beamed fingers. A horizon on fire was depicted by the last vestiges of red licking up into the yellow parts. The master artist even had purple haze swished around to give depth, in the way of far off cirrus clouds left by the painter’s brush.
Meanwhile, beneath this wondrous display terra firma was doing it’s best to provide the right contrast. Far below, all classes of humanity were heading home from day jobs and planning their evenings. The connected web of orange lights, known as civilization, where the people are, shown up at us like a cosmic tree grown out in all the scientifically predicted directions. Virginia was past us, and the Carolinas were starting to slide by. A look at the MFD (our moving map display) showed that Raleigh-Durham airport was under us. We would be landing in Charlotte in not very long, and it was time to go back to work.
Back to work? I get paid to do this? Yep, I get paid to deal with situations such as we had with the IDG, to work in close quarters with persons of all temperaments and personalities, and to do many other things that come with the territory of this job. Enjoying the view when I can is just a fringe benefit. All while not napping or operating this laptop I’m writing this on. Honest.
In spite of the sacrifices this job requires, in spite of the loss in pay and benefits as compared to years past, in spite of the loss of prestige and professionalism airline pilots have suffered in recent years, this career is still a rewarding one. And I still have a hope and purpose in it, in that I hope to glorify God and share my faith in Jesus Christ with others through it. Being sequestered with another in a cockpit for days on end is still allright with me.
Encountering conflict of this scale and nature is rare for me and my personality type, so it is stressful and trying for me when it happens. I prefer not to disparage my Co-Pilots too much, so I can’t reveal many details of our past. I will volunteer that I’m not the only Captain “Sean” has perturbed and ‘butted heads’ with, however.
Everyone has positive attributes, no matter where a co-worker may fall on the entirely subjective and individualized scale of desirability of workmates that we all have. One person might like a trait a co-worker has, the next person might not. These days I sincerely try to identify valuable characteristics that my co-workers do bring to the job. If I can change how I work with them to play to their individual strengths, it makes our work performance together more effective, permits them to be themselves, and enables me to appreciate them for the persons they are.
My Co-Pilot seemed pleased to see me. My first reaction was thinking that we would get along fine on this trip; over time I’ve realized that he has a personality type is that is direct and clear, but can be confrontational. Sean is like a desert: although he heats up fast, the good thing is that he cools down fast as well. Translation: his temper will flare, but most likely it will be over in a short while.
That being out of the way, it was a beautiful day on the east coast, blue skies and ‘High Pressure dominating’ in TV Weatherman speak, as we climbed out of DC for Manchester, New Hampshire. At 23,000 feet and just past the New York City area in smooth, clear air, with about forty minutes left in the flight, we heard the ding. This wasn’t the sound of the seat belt sign being turned off, either.
Accompanied by the bell was a yellow flashing ‘master caution’ light on a panel in front of us, and a new message in yellow on one of our flight displays. “IDG2” is what it read. I pushed the master caution switch to cancel the flashing light and show the airplane that we acknowledged the message. The IDG2 message then disappeared and reappeared for a few seconds numerous times over the next minute. “Let’s do the QRH, there’s obviously a problem with it”, I said. My First Officer replied “it’s been written up and MEL’d before”. That fact wasn’t surprising to me in the least.
Before I lose you, the IDG is an Integrated Drive Generator, which is driven by the engine, and produces electricity for the jet. Our IDG for our right engine was malfunctioning. IDG’s are filled with oil and work in a similar manner to the automatic transmission of a car. When an IDG malfunctions, the most likely reason is that the oil level inside it is too low.
The QRH is our Quick Reference Handbook, which contains emergency and abnormal checklists for just about any abnormal or emergency condition the jet can encounter. “Sean” was soon finding the QRH checklist for an IDG2 message. MEL stands for ‘Minimum Equipment List’. We have a long list, FAA approved, of things we can fly with broken. It may seem strange but there are plenty of things we can fly with broken, all we have to do is document it with our Maintenance department and abide by the MEL operating procedures. Don’t worry, the MEL is conservative, and an engine is not ‘MELable’, so to speak.
Down the QRH road we went. As the PM (Pilot monitoring), Sean would read it and I, as the PF (Pilot Flying) would perform the actions the QRH specifies. Very soon I was verifying, touching, and activating guarded switches. If I disconnected the wrong IDG, our IDG1, the ‘good’ generator, it would reduce us to emergency power and would promise a hot cup of coffee with the Chief Pilot. That is why certain switches have guarded covers, so that both pilots may verify that the correct switches are being selected in an abnormal or emergency situation.
First the QRH checklist had me take the bad IDG ‘off-line’ and completely disconnect it from the number two (right) engine. It could only be reconnected on the ground. Then per the checklist I started the APU (Auxiliary Power Unit) to restore the electrical power the jet lost when taking IDG2 off-line. The autopilot disconnected when I ‘killed’ IDG2, I should’ve seen it coming but I still have ‘quick hands’, even though I just turned forty. The workload wasn’t too bad, as we could still re-engage the autopilot, and now prepare for the descent and approach into Manchester.
A nice cloud layer above New Hampshire, with mist, two miles visibility, and a 500 foot cloud ceiling in Manchester made for a busy arrival. Lots of question had yet to be answered after our jet had a fit, and with the time remaining to land we could only ask them. Could we “MEL” the bad IDG and still carry passengers out of Manchester to Philadelphia? Would the on call Mechanic arrive quickly and be able to address our problem? How long would the departure delay to PHL be? Would our Maintenance department want the jet repaired or MEL’d? Should we delay passenger boarding? How many irritated passengers would our Flight Attendant have to deal with?
The biggest problem we encountered on the ground was the gate agents bothering us to board our PHL passenger aircraft, close up, and push back before everything was completed. The prompt, on call mechanic found that IDG2 was a little low on oil, sure enough, and was completing the paperwork to defer repairing it until a later time. For our now late departure to Philadelphia, we needed a whole new set of paperwork from our Dispatcher sent over the wire. Manchester had conscientious gate and ramp agents; however, they could have more patience and understanding in what it takes to address a mechanical problem, that’s a common trait of outstations at times. “No, we need our aircraft logbook back, we need new paperwork from our Dispatcher, and then we need at least five minutes to do checklists and prepare for this flight, before we can close the doors and push back. Thank you”; this was the sentiment that was difficult to communicate to them. We pushed back 23 minutes late, not too bad for what we had to deal with.
Fortunately, we weren’t ‘sequestered in Manchester’ very long; but it makes for a catchy blog post title, which I can’t let slide. I was to be sequestered with “Sean” for three days instead. He would love to be a Captain, and I would say with certainty that he doesn’t necessarily enjoy being a First Officer. He has less “right-seat Captain” in him than he used to, I have recognized that. A certain stubbornness is still there, however. For me, it’s a balancing act to ‘hold the reins’ wherein we’re both comfortable with the operation. In regard to him and me getting along, the trip went along fairly well. Sean will be a good Captain someday, but he'll just have to wait, unfortuntely.
Fast forward to a later departure of the day, enough about flight crew dynamics and interpersonal working relationships for now. For our third leg of day, Sean was the pilot flying out of the vibrant and varied cites of Norfolk and Virginia Beach, Virginia. Taking off to the northeast just after sunset, he hand flew the climbing left turn to the west that Norfolk Departure Control gave us.
Wow, what a view it was; we both gazed at the colors in silence, partly because we were still below 10,000 feet altitude and were still in ‘sterile cockpit’, partly because no words from our American English vocabularies could justify the scene in front of us.
Below the sharply defined horizon, in a silver sheen the waterways and bays surrounding Norfolk split up the darkening and light twinkling peninsulas of the ‘Hampton roads’ area. Red, like pigment taken from a rose, hugged the horizon. Our CRJ climbed in smooth air to ‘flight level two-two zero’ (basically 22,000 feet) and we both sat in continuing silence admiring Nature’s (God’s) palette of the fading day.
Remember art class in elementary school? Combine blue and yellow and you get green, and there we were ‘chasing the green light’ once again, between the blue and what yellow there was. The view was slowly changing, as the sun raced away from us towards the west. The once red stripe slowly changed to a deep orange-red, which seemingly permitted the yellow to blossom more, now flickering with beamed fingers. A horizon on fire was depicted by the last vestiges of red licking up into the yellow parts. The master artist even had purple haze swished around to give depth, in the way of far off cirrus clouds left by the painter’s brush.
Meanwhile, beneath this wondrous display terra firma was doing it’s best to provide the right contrast. Far below, all classes of humanity were heading home from day jobs and planning their evenings. The connected web of orange lights, known as civilization, where the people are, shown up at us like a cosmic tree grown out in all the scientifically predicted directions. Virginia was past us, and the Carolinas were starting to slide by. A look at the MFD (our moving map display) showed that Raleigh-Durham airport was under us. We would be landing in Charlotte in not very long, and it was time to go back to work.
Back to work? I get paid to do this? Yep, I get paid to deal with situations such as we had with the IDG, to work in close quarters with persons of all temperaments and personalities, and to do many other things that come with the territory of this job. Enjoying the view when I can is just a fringe benefit. All while not napping or operating this laptop I’m writing this on. Honest.
In spite of the sacrifices this job requires, in spite of the loss in pay and benefits as compared to years past, in spite of the loss of prestige and professionalism airline pilots have suffered in recent years, this career is still a rewarding one. And I still have a hope and purpose in it, in that I hope to glorify God and share my faith in Jesus Christ with others through it. Being sequestered with another in a cockpit for days on end is still allright with me.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Great American Race
I've been busy since my last post, and this might be a short one also. I've been working on starting up a new company, and developing the first product to sell. You can check crosstheskyproducts.wordpress.com if you'd like more information about it.
I'm renewing my Flight Instructor Certificate this month also, via an online course. For those in the know, yes, I could theoretically visit the FAA at one of their offices in a 'big city' and renew it in person. But since I don't 'give instruction' to my Co-Pilots (under the black and white definition anyway) that interpretation depends on the individual FAA Inspector. And it's inconvenient for me to take the time and expense to attempt a visit like that anyway. So that's been requiring some time as well.
It's my lovely wife's Birthday today, SG is XX years old, and looks XA years old, Happy Birthday SG! Thank you for all that you do to enable me to do what I do, cross the sky in adventure and 'mission' (without 'laptops on' I assure you). SG is a great Mother, juggler, and hat wearer in general.
Here's just a moment from last night's arrival into DAB. We were descending through 10,000 feet and things were getting busy, my Co-Pilot looked a little high on our descent profile to get into the traffic pattern, we were about eight minutes from landing, but I had all the confidence in him, I had flown with him before.
We were headed south, and out the windscreen the view justified this job for me again, sweet like candy. A blob of cumulus cloud slid by to my left and a thin line of cloud was just below us. In the gap between the two, the orange lit strip of Daytona Beach was illuminated in a line line stretching to the main cloud layer, which went to the horizon. The beach was white with foam, some pretty large waves were breaking, especially for the east coast of Florida. The city of Daytona Beach was inviting us in, but in a teasing manner. The main cloud layer was blocking our view of the airport, but we expected a visual approach once we descended below it. Shortly thereafter Daytona Approach gave us a descent down to 4,000 feet and a vector to the southwest, toward the final approach course.
Below the main layer we could see the effect of the strong winds from the east, related to Hurricane Ida, far to the west, in the Gulf of Mexico. We needed those winds because our jet was still quite a bit high to reach the standard and safe 3 degree approach path. "Going down and slowing down" is tricky in a swept wing jet, but my Co-Pilot had it covered. He deftly and smoothly maneuvered us to landing, without the GPWS (Ground Proximity Warning System) barking and without violating our limitations or flight standards. I was impressed with the way he handled it.
Entering the approach corridor, he was too high to begin with, but I wasn't ready to say that; it was readily apparent to him. The plane gives you room to make a few mistakes and recover, but you still have to watch what you're doing. A 'micro-manager' Captain might have said something, but I prefer to let errors happen, to a certain point anyway. I believe you learn from your mistakes better that way.
Daytona International Speedway, home of 'The Great American Race', the Daytona 500, is literally right next door to Daytona International Airport (DAB). I'd never flown into here before Sunday, so it's been a good change. So often I fly to the same twenty or so airports. We have a fairly nice hotel too, it's near the speedway, (a huge facility BTW - 2.5 mile track & tons of seating), and the hotel has a large outdoor pool, with lots of shopping and restaurants nearby. I joke that I'm going to enroll in the Richard Petty driving experience, and drive or ride in a real stock car on the speedway. I'd love to, but the budget won't permit that right now. I think NASCAR has a museum there though, which I'll try to check out next week, on another trip with DAB overnights.
(NASCAR diversion, skip if you like): I like NASCAR quite a lot, grew up watching it, and most other forms of auto racing. I root for the 39 car, but he's had trouble winning in the last few years. I'm reluctantly trying to switch over to root for Jimmy in the 48 car, but he's so dang good it's hard to, I feel like I'm jumping on the bandwagon. I think he'll win his 4th Championship in a row.
Well, I gotta run and race off to get things done for my day of flying. Today it's DAB-CLT (Charlotte)- DAB-CLT-DCA, commute home tomorrow. Speaking of which, lately it has felt like I'm in a great American race. I'm excited about starting my new company though; I feel it's the beginning of something I've pondered and been inspired to do for many years now.
I intend, though, to keep the balance in my life, like keeping the right balance in a race car. I hope to not go too fast and blow the engine up, or miss a pit stop and run out of fuel. God is still good, all the time. All the time, God is still good.
I'm renewing my Flight Instructor Certificate this month also, via an online course. For those in the know, yes, I could theoretically visit the FAA at one of their offices in a 'big city' and renew it in person. But since I don't 'give instruction' to my Co-Pilots (under the black and white definition anyway) that interpretation depends on the individual FAA Inspector. And it's inconvenient for me to take the time and expense to attempt a visit like that anyway. So that's been requiring some time as well.
It's my lovely wife's Birthday today, SG is XX years old, and looks XA years old, Happy Birthday SG! Thank you for all that you do to enable me to do what I do, cross the sky in adventure and 'mission' (without 'laptops on' I assure you). SG is a great Mother, juggler, and hat wearer in general.
Here's just a moment from last night's arrival into DAB. We were descending through 10,000 feet and things were getting busy, my Co-Pilot looked a little high on our descent profile to get into the traffic pattern, we were about eight minutes from landing, but I had all the confidence in him, I had flown with him before.
We were headed south, and out the windscreen the view justified this job for me again, sweet like candy. A blob of cumulus cloud slid by to my left and a thin line of cloud was just below us. In the gap between the two, the orange lit strip of Daytona Beach was illuminated in a line line stretching to the main cloud layer, which went to the horizon. The beach was white with foam, some pretty large waves were breaking, especially for the east coast of Florida. The city of Daytona Beach was inviting us in, but in a teasing manner. The main cloud layer was blocking our view of the airport, but we expected a visual approach once we descended below it. Shortly thereafter Daytona Approach gave us a descent down to 4,000 feet and a vector to the southwest, toward the final approach course.
Below the main layer we could see the effect of the strong winds from the east, related to Hurricane Ida, far to the west, in the Gulf of Mexico. We needed those winds because our jet was still quite a bit high to reach the standard and safe 3 degree approach path. "Going down and slowing down" is tricky in a swept wing jet, but my Co-Pilot had it covered. He deftly and smoothly maneuvered us to landing, without the GPWS (Ground Proximity Warning System) barking and without violating our limitations or flight standards. I was impressed with the way he handled it.
Entering the approach corridor, he was too high to begin with, but I wasn't ready to say that; it was readily apparent to him. The plane gives you room to make a few mistakes and recover, but you still have to watch what you're doing. A 'micro-manager' Captain might have said something, but I prefer to let errors happen, to a certain point anyway. I believe you learn from your mistakes better that way.
Daytona International Speedway, home of 'The Great American Race', the Daytona 500, is literally right next door to Daytona International Airport (DAB). I'd never flown into here before Sunday, so it's been a good change. So often I fly to the same twenty or so airports. We have a fairly nice hotel too, it's near the speedway, (a huge facility BTW - 2.5 mile track & tons of seating), and the hotel has a large outdoor pool, with lots of shopping and restaurants nearby. I joke that I'm going to enroll in the Richard Petty driving experience, and drive or ride in a real stock car on the speedway. I'd love to, but the budget won't permit that right now. I think NASCAR has a museum there though, which I'll try to check out next week, on another trip with DAB overnights.
(NASCAR diversion, skip if you like): I like NASCAR quite a lot, grew up watching it, and most other forms of auto racing. I root for the 39 car, but he's had trouble winning in the last few years. I'm reluctantly trying to switch over to root for Jimmy in the 48 car, but he's so dang good it's hard to, I feel like I'm jumping on the bandwagon. I think he'll win his 4th Championship in a row.
Well, I gotta run and race off to get things done for my day of flying. Today it's DAB-CLT (Charlotte)- DAB-CLT-DCA, commute home tomorrow. Speaking of which, lately it has felt like I'm in a great American race. I'm excited about starting my new company though; I feel it's the beginning of something I've pondered and been inspired to do for many years now.
I intend, though, to keep the balance in my life, like keeping the right balance in a race car. I hope to not go too fast and blow the engine up, or miss a pit stop and run out of fuel. God is still good, all the time. All the time, God is still good.
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