Sac Arrow
Touchdown! Greaser!
- Joined
- May 11, 2010
- Messages
- 20,372
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
- Display Name
Display name:
Snorting his way across the USA
The newly promoted captain Griffin "Griff" Lagerman stood in front of a mirror mounted on the cockpit door of his 777. Oops, a spot of Brasso was visible on the collar. A dab from a wet wipe cleared that up. His shoes started to acquire a haze around the creases only associated with a real spit shine. He opened the door and stepped out to the edge of the air stairs.
The First Officer walked briskly through the gate. Lagerman eyed him suspiciously. His long, black dreadlocks flowed down the back of his company uniform shirt. Heathen, Lagerman thought. Probably sacrifices goats. Probably bilked tourists for money as a kid.
"First Officer Marley Kingston reporting for duty, Captain."
"Kingston, WHY are you wearing sunglasses when you greet me?"
"Your epaulets are blinding me, sir."
Lagerman smirked. "Yes, we should present ourselves professionally, don't you think Kingston."
"Ya mon. I mean Captain Lager, mon."
"Step inside the cockpit. Let me see your logbook." Let's see, Lagerman thought out loud. Passenger carrying currency, check. Complex endorsement. Check. High Performance endorsement, check. Okay what am I missing.
"My type rating sir? Here." Kingston handed him is certificate.
"Oh, yeah, right, that too. Hmm, I see you have some time in a Cessna 195."
"Yes mon."
"Very good. I used own one you know."
"Impressive sir."
"Okay time for a little ground Q&A. What airport is this?"
"Chicago O'Hare."
"Where are we going?"
"Narita sir."
"Let's say we lose our airspeed indicator in flight. What do we do?"
"PPP sir, Pitch, Power Per...."
"Stop. Just...stop. STOP. Okay, rule number one. I hate mnemonics. I HATE F***G MNEMONICS. Do not... use another mnemonic on me this flight, understood?"
"Understood sir."
The takeoff was uneventful. A light dusting of snow covered the airport as they departed. It reminded Marley of the Snow Globes he used to sell to the tourists as a child. It reminded Griff that Marley probably thought the snow reminded him of an illicit powdered drug imported from Colombia. "Okay Kingston, time for a little airwork. Why don't you show me a power on stall."
"Okay. I have the controls..."
"Wait" Lagerman said. "Ever heard of a checklist?"
"Oh, ya mon. Okay, let's see... altitude is flight level two seven zero, should be adequate. Set power for maneuvering speed. Okay so..."
"Okay and what did you forget? What do we do when we do power on stalls in a passenger jet?"
"Ahhh sorry, yes, illuminate the fasten seatbelt sign."
"Thank you. Now proceed."
"Okay, pulling power, extending flaps and slats, going to londing configuration.. pull the yoke back to maintain altitude... approaching a stall, push in the.... oh... ****, what just happened... the clouds are spinning around us..."
"You entered a spin, Kingston. What are you going to do?"
"Okay... spin... um, yeah P.."
"I said no mnemonics dammit! Ever hear of 'recover'?"
"I've never recovered from a spin in a passenger jet sir! I only know the mnemonic they taught us during type training!"
"Okay use your damn mnem...Mbnem.... mnem-onic then."
"PTRB."
"Which means?"
"Push
The
Recovery
Button"
"Well?"
"Captain, sir, the recovery button is on your side."
The skillful action of the captain was so inspiring that even the epaulets themselves where in awe as the captain's index finger delftly raced to the 'Recover' button. He applied a firm, deliberate, but not too forceful pressure on the button, very professionally, as would a pilot with over 7,500 hours of time in type would do. Magically, button flashed three times and a verbal annunciator blared "Spin recovery in progress" by a neutral, female, computer generated voice. Within a few seconds, the aircraft was flying straight and level again.
"Good job captain. That was a very skillfully executed spin recovery."
"Experience, Kingston, experience. That's why I'm captain. Now, why don't you call back for some coffee. I could use some."
Kingston grabbed the intercom phone, made the request, and put the handset back in its cradle. "Um, problem sir. Head flight attendant reports all of the coffee is presently on the roof."
"Oh well. This is going to be one long flight then I guess."
The First Officer walked briskly through the gate. Lagerman eyed him suspiciously. His long, black dreadlocks flowed down the back of his company uniform shirt. Heathen, Lagerman thought. Probably sacrifices goats. Probably bilked tourists for money as a kid.
"First Officer Marley Kingston reporting for duty, Captain."
"Kingston, WHY are you wearing sunglasses when you greet me?"
"Your epaulets are blinding me, sir."
Lagerman smirked. "Yes, we should present ourselves professionally, don't you think Kingston."
"Ya mon. I mean Captain Lager, mon."
"Step inside the cockpit. Let me see your logbook." Let's see, Lagerman thought out loud. Passenger carrying currency, check. Complex endorsement. Check. High Performance endorsement, check. Okay what am I missing.
"My type rating sir? Here." Kingston handed him is certificate.
"Oh, yeah, right, that too. Hmm, I see you have some time in a Cessna 195."
"Yes mon."
"Very good. I used own one you know."
"Impressive sir."
"Okay time for a little ground Q&A. What airport is this?"
"Chicago O'Hare."
"Where are we going?"
"Narita sir."
"Let's say we lose our airspeed indicator in flight. What do we do?"
"PPP sir, Pitch, Power Per...."
"Stop. Just...stop. STOP. Okay, rule number one. I hate mnemonics. I HATE F***G MNEMONICS. Do not... use another mnemonic on me this flight, understood?"
"Understood sir."
The takeoff was uneventful. A light dusting of snow covered the airport as they departed. It reminded Marley of the Snow Globes he used to sell to the tourists as a child. It reminded Griff that Marley probably thought the snow reminded him of an illicit powdered drug imported from Colombia. "Okay Kingston, time for a little airwork. Why don't you show me a power on stall."
"Okay. I have the controls..."
"Wait" Lagerman said. "Ever heard of a checklist?"
"Oh, ya mon. Okay, let's see... altitude is flight level two seven zero, should be adequate. Set power for maneuvering speed. Okay so..."
"Okay and what did you forget? What do we do when we do power on stalls in a passenger jet?"
"Ahhh sorry, yes, illuminate the fasten seatbelt sign."
"Thank you. Now proceed."
"Okay, pulling power, extending flaps and slats, going to londing configuration.. pull the yoke back to maintain altitude... approaching a stall, push in the.... oh... ****, what just happened... the clouds are spinning around us..."
"You entered a spin, Kingston. What are you going to do?"
"Okay... spin... um, yeah P.."
"I said no mnemonics dammit! Ever hear of 'recover'?"
"I've never recovered from a spin in a passenger jet sir! I only know the mnemonic they taught us during type training!"
"Okay use your damn mnem...Mbnem.... mnem-onic then."
"PTRB."
"Which means?"
"Push
The
Recovery
Button"
"Well?"
"Captain, sir, the recovery button is on your side."
The skillful action of the captain was so inspiring that even the epaulets themselves where in awe as the captain's index finger delftly raced to the 'Recover' button. He applied a firm, deliberate, but not too forceful pressure on the button, very professionally, as would a pilot with over 7,500 hours of time in type would do. Magically, button flashed three times and a verbal annunciator blared "Spin recovery in progress" by a neutral, female, computer generated voice. Within a few seconds, the aircraft was flying straight and level again.
"Good job captain. That was a very skillfully executed spin recovery."
"Experience, Kingston, experience. That's why I'm captain. Now, why don't you call back for some coffee. I could use some."
Kingston grabbed the intercom phone, made the request, and put the handset back in its cradle. "Um, problem sir. Head flight attendant reports all of the coffee is presently on the roof."
"Oh well. This is going to be one long flight then I guess."
