Once upon a time there was a ten year old girl named Katy. She loved her family with all of her heart. One day her family of seven (Grandfather,Grandmother, Mother, Aunt, Uncle and two cousins) decided to go to Hawaii for a well deserved vacation. This was possible because most all of the adults worked for People Express Airlines and received vacation passes from year to year. This was the year to treat everyone to Condos overlooking the ocean in Waikiki.
The flights looked good so everyone got on the People Express B-747 and off we went. Katy was good entertaining herself with a vivid imagination and with plenty of adult supervision we would play many games while flying to pass the time.
After visiting the lavatory an hour or so into the flight Katy came up with an idea. She had recently become obsessed with clipboards and checklists so what better game than grading the cleanliness and availability of supplies during this 9 hour flight. Surely the lavs will deteriorate over that length of time and she could be the one to document it. Off she went with herclipboard when there was a break in the constant lines. Toilet paper"check", soap "check", toilet seat down "check", overall cleanliness(grade). This went on for hours but she was on a mission and could not let it slip. I leaned over her shoulder and saw the columns and grid drawn perfectly with crisp check marks in the appropriate places. She was ghostriding and writing up her report with no one to receive it. I wanted to know why she was carrying a clipboard. Note to self - find out what else she had in her knapsack.
"Ohio gosaimas" (Good day), "Konichiwa" (Good evening) "Wait a second" we're supposed to be in Hawaii not Japan. Where's the "Aloha"? Oh, we'resurrounded by a Japanese tour group at the baggage claim. Seven bags arrived and we went off to find the van to Waikiki. Two Condos on the beach next tothe Outrigger Waikiki-we're in heaven right? Seven days in paradise to just sit back and enjoy life.
We had a ball on the beach. Just next to the Outrigger hotel and a couple of floors above the public showers. We saw and heard all the locals discussing the surf conditions while extricating the sand from their bathing suits and washing away their troubles. "Hey brudder that last set was 3-4 feet, withthe Kona winds holding it up I was tubed, did you see me?"
Since this is about non revving I'll skip to the seventh day. Two hours early with decent loads and seven checked in on vacation passes. Looked good! One hour to go the word in the seats was that Northwest had just gone on its tri-annual strike and they were sending them all over to us to rebook. Didn't look good to get us even to LAX today. We stuck around anyway until the pushback just in case someone didn't show. We planned to split up in the off chance of only a couple of seats. What an optimist I am. Ofcourse our bags went with the plane (pre 9-11).
Optimism and loyalty usually precludes you actually beating the rush but nonetheless I quickly called hotels in the airport area for a couple of rooms. All I could get was the Airport Inn. I should have known it was a low end hotel by the fact that it didn't have airport transportation. At least we had somewhere to go. I was soon to regret that statement.
Mold! That's what the room smelled like. Not a good start. Three of us opted to sleep on the chaise lounges by the pool rather than deal with the mold. Eleven hours in the same non rev clothes (the days when you dressed up in hopes of First Class) so I loosened my tie and took my shoes off, thinking"I'll shower later."
"Who's hungry? Let's try the restaurant out." We were stuck there overnight so we tried to make the best of it. "Good it's empty we can all sit together." Over sauntered the waitress and we wondered "Isn't she the same lady who checked us in?" Papa wanted a hot dog. "We don't hab dat!" Ok, Chefsalad for Memo. "We don't hab dat!" Ok, while they were looking over the menu I ordered a fish sandwich. "We don't hab dat!" Starting to realize the menu isn't doing us any good, I said "Ok, I'll bite. What do you have?""Hamburger-french fry." "No bite". I now realized English was a distant second language. Ok hamburgers for some and french fries for the vegetarians in our group. That was a start. I was wondering if I should find an excuse to look in the kitchen but I chickened out. "We don't hab dat!" still ringing in my ears I asked Katy to pass the generic bottle of Ketchup.
The next day we called rez and they thought that the last flight to LAX would be our best bet so we listed and crossed our fingers. It was a B-747and a through flight to Newark so this wouldn't be that bad. It worked out ok as the crowds had dissipated during the day and we got the middle five and two on the side. Thirty six hours later than planned isn't so bad. In LAX we lucked out and didn't have to change our seats. We were on the plane to Newark and the doors were closed. "Phew!" Non revving can be stressful.The plane shuddered slightly and I looked out the window. A lot of ground activity and a tug stuck under the number two engine didn't look good.
The Captain came on to say that the number two engine had to be changed and that would take 8 hours. They had the spare engine on hand and would put everyone up in a local hotel if they'd like to wait and continue on with us to Newark. Eight hours in the airport for us may have put us over the edge but no way could we get a hotel now with all these pax checking in. The Captain came over as we were standing there dumbfounded and offered us one room as he and the co-pilot could share one. What a nice guy. Sure we'd do that.
Our clothes were sticking to our backs and Katy's net stockings were implanting permanent grooves in her legs so this was a good idea. Feeling every part of the immigrant family that we were, we all piled into this one beautiful room. Ok who needs the bathroom first? Three on the king bed two on the chairs on the patio and the remaining two on the floor. This'd do nicely, thank you very much.
Back on the plane eight hours and thirty two minutes later we breathed a sigh of relief as the nose wheel lifted off. Seventy two hours after we checked in and our baggage left for Newark we were reunited with all seven bags. Katy's non rev adventure was history but it sure made an impression on all of us (not just Katy's legs). We laughed about it, cried about it. It was better than "Cats"!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Enabler
I thought I was an enabler until I met my wife 40 years ago. She is the nicest person in the world (after her mother of course). She redefined “giving it all away” in the classiest way possible. The recipient of her “not ripping the trophy out of your grasp” can’t have the slightest idea that they are being given a helping hand. “Miss Congeniality” was named after her (she won that in high school). She tries not to win and doesn’t have a competitive bone in her body but that doesn’t mean you can walk all over her. If she senses that you are condescending, playing her for a sap or taking advantage of her elders or children she’ll stand toe to toe with you and read you the riot act including but not limited to “you ought to be ashamed of yourself”. I digress but you get the idea. Imagine Arnold Swartzenegger (the terminator) dressed in pink on the side of justice for all.
I on the other hand just like to help others find their way. If I have to beat someone twenty years younger at tennis to help them find their way to better tennis then so be it. If you are under fourteen (definitely under 8) I’ll look confused and bewildered when you beat me at “chutes and ladder”, tag or “catch me if you can”.
If you have children “enabling” is fun. You’re there to teach and nurture and enable them to learn how to grow up responsibly in society. How about captains and first officers? About the same but more mature and require more “suave faire”. I like to teach and nurture and instill some confidence and wisdom in my first officers because I’m teaching my replacements. Anybody can say “clear right, I’ll take the chicken and I’ll take the first break if you don’t mind.” I want my first officers to recognize an incapacitated captain, be able to give CPR and taxi to the gate from the right side with differential braking. This is assuming that they increase the age to 65 or higher. Just joking I’m really retiring at 60 no matter what Congress doesn’t do.
Enabling has gotten a bad rap from too many self help programs. Just try to help someone with a drinking or gambling problem and the facilitator in the 12 step program is all over you for enabling the person in trouble. Tough love, intervention or just leave them alone are your choices. Sounds like some captains you fly with doesn’t it? Why make it easier for you than I had it when I was in the right seat?
Enabling could be a disease. If it isn’t it’s a habit that is hard to quit. Trying to please everybody and fixing all problems does give you a great rush of adrenaline and you want to continue that great feeling. Flying is constantly fixing problems like overcoming gravity and flying in the clouds.
As I finish my 31 years of commercial flying I think I’ll miss the people you enable to see their loved ones, business meetings to happen and well deserved vacations to occur. In aviation all our dreams come true. The pilots get to fly instead of work. Everyone else gets to follow their dreams in the air instead of on the highway.
I’ll miss the employees that have stuck together and merged into a great company and an airline that you can be proud of. I’ve been based in Newark, Houston, Honolulu and Guam and have enjoyed all the travel benefits that come with this job. I’ve traveled around the world (literally) and may stay home for awhile after retirement but I won’t stop thinking about my exciting career and all the individuals I’ve met along the way.
You may read about yourself one day. I’ve started a blog named thirtyfivethousandfeet.blogspot.com and ruminate on the vagaries of the pilot’s life. I may not be actively flying for Continental but I’ll never forget the ride I’ve had and the good people I’ve met. Thank you for enabling me to reach my retirement.
I on the other hand just like to help others find their way. If I have to beat someone twenty years younger at tennis to help them find their way to better tennis then so be it. If you are under fourteen (definitely under 8) I’ll look confused and bewildered when you beat me at “chutes and ladder”, tag or “catch me if you can”.
If you have children “enabling” is fun. You’re there to teach and nurture and enable them to learn how to grow up responsibly in society. How about captains and first officers? About the same but more mature and require more “suave faire”. I like to teach and nurture and instill some confidence and wisdom in my first officers because I’m teaching my replacements. Anybody can say “clear right, I’ll take the chicken and I’ll take the first break if you don’t mind.” I want my first officers to recognize an incapacitated captain, be able to give CPR and taxi to the gate from the right side with differential braking. This is assuming that they increase the age to 65 or higher. Just joking I’m really retiring at 60 no matter what Congress doesn’t do.
Enabling has gotten a bad rap from too many self help programs. Just try to help someone with a drinking or gambling problem and the facilitator in the 12 step program is all over you for enabling the person in trouble. Tough love, intervention or just leave them alone are your choices. Sounds like some captains you fly with doesn’t it? Why make it easier for you than I had it when I was in the right seat?
Enabling could be a disease. If it isn’t it’s a habit that is hard to quit. Trying to please everybody and fixing all problems does give you a great rush of adrenaline and you want to continue that great feeling. Flying is constantly fixing problems like overcoming gravity and flying in the clouds.
As I finish my 31 years of commercial flying I think I’ll miss the people you enable to see their loved ones, business meetings to happen and well deserved vacations to occur. In aviation all our dreams come true. The pilots get to fly instead of work. Everyone else gets to follow their dreams in the air instead of on the highway.
I’ll miss the employees that have stuck together and merged into a great company and an airline that you can be proud of. I’ve been based in Newark, Houston, Honolulu and Guam and have enjoyed all the travel benefits that come with this job. I’ve traveled around the world (literally) and may stay home for awhile after retirement but I won’t stop thinking about my exciting career and all the individuals I’ve met along the way.
You may read about yourself one day. I’ve started a blog named thirtyfivethousandfeet.blogspot.com and ruminate on the vagaries of the pilot’s life. I may not be actively flying for Continental but I’ll never forget the ride I’ve had and the good people I’ve met. Thank you for enabling me to reach my retirement.
Quito in 31 Hours
I come from a family of over-schedulers. Not just makers of lists or schedulers but massive,horrendous over the top schedulers. They make other schedulers look idle. You get the idea. I’ve tried many things over the years to keep me from becoming one of “them.” It’s not bad to over schedule but it’s not me, or so I thought. You can’t do everything that you want to do or go to everything to which you are invited every day of your life.
I’ve since found out that there are two places on earth in which this is possible: retirement communities and Quito layovers. There must be an exclusion clause or a black hole or something, but it’s true. Since I can’t keep up with my folks or even get in touch with them in their retirement community, I’ll try the Quito layover and see what happens.
Quito is located South-Southwest of the east coast of the United States, in the central time zone. Surrounded by three volcanoes high in the Andes, Quito has a strong Spanish-Catholic influence but is inhabited by more Andean Indians than Euoropean-descended interlopers. I guess after the Spanish marched up 9300 feet to conquer the Indians they ran out of breath.
Continental flies non stop from Newark to Bogota, Columbia and used to do a short through flight to Quito, Ecuador. There are now direct flights from Houston. Ecuador has recently gone to using U.S. currency which makes it easier for us although a little more expensive than in the old black market dollar days.
The crews arrive at the hotel at about 11 PM on the first day and leave the third day at 6 AM. The intervening 31 hours are yours to do what you want. Most crews get some sleep after they arrive although the younger among us head to the dance clubs the first night upon their arrival.
I’ve arranged (by e-mail of course) for my Spanish teacher, Jorge, to meet me at breakfast at 9:30 in the morning and so I study a little to see where we left off last lesson. The “imperative” sounds interesting. I see signs all over the airport telling me to put my bags here. “Pongo su equipaje aqui!” I’ll have to ask him about that verb.
Ok, so here we go. This is how the day is shaping up. Breakfast at the “Magic Bean”only a few blocks away is a must as their huevos rancheros and fresh squeezed fruit juices are the best in town (only $2.75 for breakfast-not bad).
If you need to work out it’s back to the gym at the Marriott, but today I asked Jorge to meet me to get some tips on conversation in the restaurant and the shopping areas on the way back to the hotel. I brought my black bag to drop off at the leather workshop for repair and some new black lacquer. I can pick it up later today. We’ll stop at a leather clothing store to try on a jacket and some leather pants for the motorcycle trip coming up. If you needed any sewing done this’d be the place to bring it.
I pay Jorge for his time and help and rush back to the hotel to change and pick up my tennis racquets in the storage room. I have a tennis lesson on those famous red clay courts you only seem to see in South America these days. There’re easier on the knees than the hard courts of America. I meet the Pro at noon on the court and we play singles for an hour. I stop every game or two for bottled water that I brought and towel off as I catch my breath. There’s not a lot of oxygen at 9300 feet.
The last trip to Quito I had brought my golf clubs and played a small course nearby. Twenty- five dollars for a round with a caddy and a beautiful course and day ensued. Several 300 yard drives under the belt I felt pretty Tiger-ish in this rarified air as the ball went and went and rolled to a stop.
Well, back to reality (Continental style) I have to rush back to the hotel for my one hour massage at the Marriott. I sleep through the second half which is fine for me. All relaxed now I am off to the flower store because they get their fresh flower shipment in the afternoon. I usually get only six packets of roses (20-24 to a packet) so I can carry them back in a laundry bag. At $1.75 a packet it’s a steal of course. I usually give away a dozen or so to the agent, cleaners and office staff on the way home so I show up with only a couple dozen roses for my wife. The sweet smell and unique hybrid of colors mark the Quito roses and with a change of water and a cut every day they’ll last two weeks.
I’ve got to hustle today to pick up my newly polished black bag and the leather jacket whose sleeves I had shortened before the shop closes at 6 PM. I put them up in the room and drink some water to keep hydrated. The tennis took some water out of my system. The crew is going to meet for dinner in a few minutes so no time for a nap.
We decide to go to the “Turtle’s Head” British pub (owned and run by a Scot from Glasgow) for happy hour and a quick game of foosball or darts. The crews seem to go out together here; after a day of spa activities it’s time to regroup as a flight team and head to the restaurant. We choose an Argentine Steak house and get a big table for the group. The owner is an Argentine from New York who’s semi-retired down here in Quito. He’s happy to see us and entertains us with stories of the old days in New York when he managed young boxers from the Bronx. He’s got pictures on the walls of some of the young men in the ring.
Every time he opens a wine bottle he repeats the same story. “Let this wine breathe for 5 minutes. It was bottled at sea level and it has to let some air out to revive itself and stabilize at 9300 feet.” Hey I’m in Quito-I believe him every time. The bill comes after a satisfying meal and I pay for everyone. It’s great to be a big spender when the whole bill comes in under $50. It’s only 8:00 PM but we head back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before our 0600 pick up.
Not a lot of smokers bid Quito because of the altitude. The heart rate is faster and the breathing quicker sometimes to the point of hyperventilation. Just relax and breathe slowly to recover. Give it some time and drink plenty of water. Sleeping is another story though; if I sleep on my stomach I hear and feel my heart pound pretty fast. That’s disconcerting so I roll over and it goes away. Three to four hours into sleep I wake up with a start; my breathing is quick and deep and my heart is pounding. What happened? I sit up and drink some water. Things get better and I go back to sleep. One theory on why this happens to all of us in Quito is that as you get into level four deep sleep your heart rate goes down and your breathing gets shallow: fine at sea level but oxygen depriving at 9300 feet. Your body wakes you up to get more oxygen. “Well done body!” As long as I know it’s nature doing its job I can go back to sleep. Oxygen bottles are available at the front desk and some visitors pre oxygenate prior to sleeping for that reason.
After an uneventful exit from the valley around Quito and up over the Andes we settle in for the flight home, keeping the flower stems moist and the memories of another Quito layover fresh in our minds. As the crews get home the same thing is happening. Spouses and loved ones are saying “thanks for the roses,” and “let’s go shopping at Target,” and the response is the same. “That’s ok I think I’ll stay home and do nothing. I’ve had a rough trip.” Maybe I’ll try to track down my folks and say hi. I wonder if they’re at home?
I’ve since found out that there are two places on earth in which this is possible: retirement communities and Quito layovers. There must be an exclusion clause or a black hole or something, but it’s true. Since I can’t keep up with my folks or even get in touch with them in their retirement community, I’ll try the Quito layover and see what happens.
Quito is located South-Southwest of the east coast of the United States, in the central time zone. Surrounded by three volcanoes high in the Andes, Quito has a strong Spanish-Catholic influence but is inhabited by more Andean Indians than Euoropean-descended interlopers. I guess after the Spanish marched up 9300 feet to conquer the Indians they ran out of breath.
Continental flies non stop from Newark to Bogota, Columbia and used to do a short through flight to Quito, Ecuador. There are now direct flights from Houston. Ecuador has recently gone to using U.S. currency which makes it easier for us although a little more expensive than in the old black market dollar days.
The crews arrive at the hotel at about 11 PM on the first day and leave the third day at 6 AM. The intervening 31 hours are yours to do what you want. Most crews get some sleep after they arrive although the younger among us head to the dance clubs the first night upon their arrival.
I’ve arranged (by e-mail of course) for my Spanish teacher, Jorge, to meet me at breakfast at 9:30 in the morning and so I study a little to see where we left off last lesson. The “imperative” sounds interesting. I see signs all over the airport telling me to put my bags here. “Pongo su equipaje aqui!” I’ll have to ask him about that verb.
Ok, so here we go. This is how the day is shaping up. Breakfast at the “Magic Bean”only a few blocks away is a must as their huevos rancheros and fresh squeezed fruit juices are the best in town (only $2.75 for breakfast-not bad).
If you need to work out it’s back to the gym at the Marriott, but today I asked Jorge to meet me to get some tips on conversation in the restaurant and the shopping areas on the way back to the hotel. I brought my black bag to drop off at the leather workshop for repair and some new black lacquer. I can pick it up later today. We’ll stop at a leather clothing store to try on a jacket and some leather pants for the motorcycle trip coming up. If you needed any sewing done this’d be the place to bring it.
I pay Jorge for his time and help and rush back to the hotel to change and pick up my tennis racquets in the storage room. I have a tennis lesson on those famous red clay courts you only seem to see in South America these days. There’re easier on the knees than the hard courts of America. I meet the Pro at noon on the court and we play singles for an hour. I stop every game or two for bottled water that I brought and towel off as I catch my breath. There’s not a lot of oxygen at 9300 feet.
The last trip to Quito I had brought my golf clubs and played a small course nearby. Twenty- five dollars for a round with a caddy and a beautiful course and day ensued. Several 300 yard drives under the belt I felt pretty Tiger-ish in this rarified air as the ball went and went and rolled to a stop.
Well, back to reality (Continental style) I have to rush back to the hotel for my one hour massage at the Marriott. I sleep through the second half which is fine for me. All relaxed now I am off to the flower store because they get their fresh flower shipment in the afternoon. I usually get only six packets of roses (20-24 to a packet) so I can carry them back in a laundry bag. At $1.75 a packet it’s a steal of course. I usually give away a dozen or so to the agent, cleaners and office staff on the way home so I show up with only a couple dozen roses for my wife. The sweet smell and unique hybrid of colors mark the Quito roses and with a change of water and a cut every day they’ll last two weeks.
I’ve got to hustle today to pick up my newly polished black bag and the leather jacket whose sleeves I had shortened before the shop closes at 6 PM. I put them up in the room and drink some water to keep hydrated. The tennis took some water out of my system. The crew is going to meet for dinner in a few minutes so no time for a nap.
We decide to go to the “Turtle’s Head” British pub (owned and run by a Scot from Glasgow) for happy hour and a quick game of foosball or darts. The crews seem to go out together here; after a day of spa activities it’s time to regroup as a flight team and head to the restaurant. We choose an Argentine Steak house and get a big table for the group. The owner is an Argentine from New York who’s semi-retired down here in Quito. He’s happy to see us and entertains us with stories of the old days in New York when he managed young boxers from the Bronx. He’s got pictures on the walls of some of the young men in the ring.
Every time he opens a wine bottle he repeats the same story. “Let this wine breathe for 5 minutes. It was bottled at sea level and it has to let some air out to revive itself and stabilize at 9300 feet.” Hey I’m in Quito-I believe him every time. The bill comes after a satisfying meal and I pay for everyone. It’s great to be a big spender when the whole bill comes in under $50. It’s only 8:00 PM but we head back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before our 0600 pick up.
Not a lot of smokers bid Quito because of the altitude. The heart rate is faster and the breathing quicker sometimes to the point of hyperventilation. Just relax and breathe slowly to recover. Give it some time and drink plenty of water. Sleeping is another story though; if I sleep on my stomach I hear and feel my heart pound pretty fast. That’s disconcerting so I roll over and it goes away. Three to four hours into sleep I wake up with a start; my breathing is quick and deep and my heart is pounding. What happened? I sit up and drink some water. Things get better and I go back to sleep. One theory on why this happens to all of us in Quito is that as you get into level four deep sleep your heart rate goes down and your breathing gets shallow: fine at sea level but oxygen depriving at 9300 feet. Your body wakes you up to get more oxygen. “Well done body!” As long as I know it’s nature doing its job I can go back to sleep. Oxygen bottles are available at the front desk and some visitors pre oxygenate prior to sleeping for that reason.
After an uneventful exit from the valley around Quito and up over the Andes we settle in for the flight home, keeping the flower stems moist and the memories of another Quito layover fresh in our minds. As the crews get home the same thing is happening. Spouses and loved ones are saying “thanks for the roses,” and “let’s go shopping at Target,” and the response is the same. “That’s ok I think I’ll stay home and do nothing. I’ve had a rough trip.” Maybe I’ll try to track down my folks and say hi. I wonder if they’re at home?
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Continental and Delta Merge
This is a fact. It is not a rumor. After a combined 53 years of airline service (28 for me and 25 for him) my Delta brother and I will layover in Las Vegas on the same day. We plan to have a light, quiet meal to celebrate this momentous occasion. Dion is a Delta B-757 Captain based in Los Angeles. He will be the first to arrive, from Atlanta of course, then I from Newark. He will be leaving at midnight for the redeye to Orlando and I the 6 a.m. rocket to Houston. What a wonderful l life! We’ve merged before. At the Naval Academy in 1968 and 1969, as Dion started his plebe year and I my first class year. He hung out in my room on weekends to minimize his exposure to push ups. He came down to Pensacola when I was going through advanced flight training. In return I visited him in VT-1 for his solo flight in the T-34. When Dion got his Navy wings of gold I flew an A-7E Corsair II cross country to see my Dad pin them on. Later that year, when Dion finished T-28 (Navy radial engine prop aircraft) training, he came out to Lemoore, Calif., where I was an instructor. I had access to a T-28 so we took it out. Over San Simeon and the Hearst Castle we soared. A few acrobatics later we squeaked it on one of Lemoore’s twin 13,000 foot runways and I invited Dion in for a beer at the O’Club. Dion got on with Delta in 1979, fresh out of the Navy, and I had been with Braniff since 1976. We celebrated our collective good fortune and talked of our bright futures. Our parents were ecstatic. With Braniff and Delta passes, what good sons they had. My Dad was retired from the Navy and ready to non-rev (now they prefer to pay full fare). Dion was based at DFW and lived just north of the airport. On May 12, 1982, I unknowingly flew my last Braniff trip NYC-DFW. We were to go on to Austin, Texas, but that was the day Braniff shut down. I was stuck at DFW with no job, no hotel and no ideas. One call to Dion got things rolling and the next day I was on Delta flying back to New York. Dion was on the panel of the B-727 for the first six years at Delta but was never furloughed. I started over from scratch with People Express and was working at our simulator center in Totowa, N.J., when Dion got the call to upgrade to the right seat. Up he came to New Jersey for a free hour in the B-727 simulator. Flying around New York and doing touch-and-goes at Newark International got him all warmed up for the Delta upgrade program. All other sightings until Las Vegas have been “I met a People Express pilot and he knows you;” “I had a Continental jumpseater and he had flown with you.” But today is the day. Scheduling from two different airlines and the aviation gods (or are they the self-appointed aviation gods?) have seen fit to put us together in the same city at the same time and give us both per diem. Who will pay for dinner? (I think one of the world’s highest paid pilots – Delta.) And should we gamble? I feel really, really lucky today.
How Guam (Air Micronesia or “Air Mike”) saved Continental Airlines
I’m sure you’ve heard of David and Goliath or, if not, then surely Erin Brockovitch. Well, every once in a while, the small people do big things. This is a true story of one of those big events.
Guam is an eight-hour flight beyond Hawaii. That ought to make your knees buckle and seat smart. It’s a United States territory just 30 miles long and 10 miles wide in the general shape of a peanut. Continental has flown the islands around Guam since 1968; we still have flight attendants and pilots who flew DC-6s around the islands in the early days. Now we have separate Air Mike flight attendants and a separate air carrier certificate for the B-737s on Guam.
Let’s go back to 1995 on the mainland. Continental Lite was winding down. (Bob Ferguson was just 10 years ahead of his time. Could he be working behind the scenes at TED?) Ferguson was soon to be replaced by Gordon Bethune. Continental was short on cash and a good candidate for possibly going into bankruptcy protection for the second time that decade. Rumor had it management was having trouble gathering the cash for our payroll.
Air Mike, on the other hand, was doing well. In 1995 Air Mike was approaching a milestone of carrying one million Japanese and Chinese tourists to Guam to enjoy the sun and duty-free shopping. History is always written by the conquerors. History’s point of view is from their eyes and point of view. They write what they know best which is what they were able to affect.
Well, this is a missing piece of the puzzle from back in 1995, when Gordon Bethune was definitely affecting the mainland Continental Airlines in a positive way. On Guam, it was just more of the same. Price and sell the product in Japan in yen and play the international money flux to our favor when the dollar was king and the yen brought in more dollars every week. While mainland Continental was having trouble finding money for its turnaround, Air Mike made $67 million profit running a decent, small airline with 20 leased aircraft and crews from Continental Airlines. Was that enough to save the parent company from bankruptcy court until they dismantled Continental Lite? No, Gordon needed more money to avoid court and put his and Greg’s plan into full play. They needed time and money to earn the respect of the much abused employees of Continental.
This is where the missing piece of history was written but it remains little known to the Continental family.
Even in 1995, Delta Airlines was envious of Continental, or at least lusted after Air Mike. Out came the Delta advance team with bean counters in tow. The idea was that they would look at Air Mike’s books and operation and make a bid to purchase that subsidiary (certificate). Air Mike would be cut off after flying the islands for more than 25 years and in doing so, give Continental the cash it so desperately needed. Surely Gordon knew of the Delta deal, maybe initiated it, but his book From Worst to First doesn’t mention this bit of history.
Regardless, Continental didn’t do Delta but did use the value Delta had placed on the table to borrow $375 million with Air Mike’s certificate as collateral. At a time when Continental’s balance sheet could swing plus or minus $5 million a month as Gordon mentions in his book, this was the cash needed to reorganize the airline and make payroll – a well-timed transaction.
Air Mike continued its fine operation, with many months over a 99 percent completion factor, consistently beating the number one on-time airline (Southwest) by as many as 3 to 4 percentage points in the DOT standard on-time statistics. (Air Mike didn’t get the awards because it was reported as an international carrier and subsidiary of Continental.)
There were two distinct pilot groups on Guam: those who maintained a home on Guam and those who commuted to do their flying. 1995 was a painful year for the pilots, as well as all work groups at Continental. Big cost cuts were necessary to fund the future and Gordon needed all work groups to shrink to fit his new airline. The pilots hired in 1990 had endured two to three years of frozen first year pay because of the earlier bankruptcy and were moved to Guam as the junior base. Most came willingly with their families because it looked like a long stay ahead of them in 1994.
When the furlough was announced in 1995 almost all the Air Mike B-727 second officers got a furlough letter.
“Go (or go back) to Express, take a leave or quit - you’re furloughed at the end of the month.”
Well done, Continental. Furlough one third of the most profitable segment of your route system in one slash of the pen and, by the way, we can’t get your replacement pilots out to Guam in time so send our junior pilots back by the end of the month and we’ll dribble out disgruntled more senior pilots forced to commute to Guam. (Who knew if it was the last furlough or not?)
The little guy, Air Mike, had to speak up.
Take our profit, try to sell us, borrow money with our certificate as collateral so we’re leveraged to the hilt but you can’t be serious. You want us to furlough all our second officers on the same day with no trained replacements on Guam yet? We’ll have to cancel all our prepaid vacation customers from Japan, devastating our profitable airline and losing all our biggest travel group operators in one fell swoop. Not a great idea!
Marketing and sales in Japan are unique. As the award winning movie with Bill Murray certainly shows, some things are Lost in Translation. Japan does business differently. Once or twice a year the biggest travel operators that organize the vacation packages to Guam get together with all the airlines operating to the island and buy up in advance all the seats for the year ahead. Then they go about the business of packaging and marketing their vacations to the Japanese. These travel booking agents have given us a lot of money in advance and their customers are in receipt of flight tickets, hotel reservations and, in many cases, chapel reservations for their Western wedding. Failing to crew their return flights was not a good idea.
Guam got a reprieve just before the midnight execution approached. The furlough was postponed one month.
Another month of pay, another month to get the kids out of school and international movers to the houses, another month to make plans to get off the island in an orderly fashion. No revenue lost but a great loss for our friends and families. Guam is so far away from our true families we bonded together as a family unit while on the island and tried to support each other in those trying times.
Gordon got his money in 1995 to turn Continental around and into a first class airline with the help of Air Mike.
Guam is hardly mentioned in everyday conversations at mainline but is the jewel in the crown of Continental. Did you know that Guam-Honolulu is the most profitable route in the entire Continental system today? I rest my case.
Guam is an eight-hour flight beyond Hawaii. That ought to make your knees buckle and seat smart. It’s a United States territory just 30 miles long and 10 miles wide in the general shape of a peanut. Continental has flown the islands around Guam since 1968; we still have flight attendants and pilots who flew DC-6s around the islands in the early days. Now we have separate Air Mike flight attendants and a separate air carrier certificate for the B-737s on Guam.
Let’s go back to 1995 on the mainland. Continental Lite was winding down. (Bob Ferguson was just 10 years ahead of his time. Could he be working behind the scenes at TED?) Ferguson was soon to be replaced by Gordon Bethune. Continental was short on cash and a good candidate for possibly going into bankruptcy protection for the second time that decade. Rumor had it management was having trouble gathering the cash for our payroll.
Air Mike, on the other hand, was doing well. In 1995 Air Mike was approaching a milestone of carrying one million Japanese and Chinese tourists to Guam to enjoy the sun and duty-free shopping. History is always written by the conquerors. History’s point of view is from their eyes and point of view. They write what they know best which is what they were able to affect.
Well, this is a missing piece of the puzzle from back in 1995, when Gordon Bethune was definitely affecting the mainland Continental Airlines in a positive way. On Guam, it was just more of the same. Price and sell the product in Japan in yen and play the international money flux to our favor when the dollar was king and the yen brought in more dollars every week. While mainland Continental was having trouble finding money for its turnaround, Air Mike made $67 million profit running a decent, small airline with 20 leased aircraft and crews from Continental Airlines. Was that enough to save the parent company from bankruptcy court until they dismantled Continental Lite? No, Gordon needed more money to avoid court and put his and Greg’s plan into full play. They needed time and money to earn the respect of the much abused employees of Continental.
This is where the missing piece of history was written but it remains little known to the Continental family.
Even in 1995, Delta Airlines was envious of Continental, or at least lusted after Air Mike. Out came the Delta advance team with bean counters in tow. The idea was that they would look at Air Mike’s books and operation and make a bid to purchase that subsidiary (certificate). Air Mike would be cut off after flying the islands for more than 25 years and in doing so, give Continental the cash it so desperately needed. Surely Gordon knew of the Delta deal, maybe initiated it, but his book From Worst to First doesn’t mention this bit of history.
Regardless, Continental didn’t do Delta but did use the value Delta had placed on the table to borrow $375 million with Air Mike’s certificate as collateral. At a time when Continental’s balance sheet could swing plus or minus $5 million a month as Gordon mentions in his book, this was the cash needed to reorganize the airline and make payroll – a well-timed transaction.
Air Mike continued its fine operation, with many months over a 99 percent completion factor, consistently beating the number one on-time airline (Southwest) by as many as 3 to 4 percentage points in the DOT standard on-time statistics. (Air Mike didn’t get the awards because it was reported as an international carrier and subsidiary of Continental.)
There were two distinct pilot groups on Guam: those who maintained a home on Guam and those who commuted to do their flying. 1995 was a painful year for the pilots, as well as all work groups at Continental. Big cost cuts were necessary to fund the future and Gordon needed all work groups to shrink to fit his new airline. The pilots hired in 1990 had endured two to three years of frozen first year pay because of the earlier bankruptcy and were moved to Guam as the junior base. Most came willingly with their families because it looked like a long stay ahead of them in 1994.
When the furlough was announced in 1995 almost all the Air Mike B-727 second officers got a furlough letter.
“Go (or go back) to Express, take a leave or quit - you’re furloughed at the end of the month.”
Well done, Continental. Furlough one third of the most profitable segment of your route system in one slash of the pen and, by the way, we can’t get your replacement pilots out to Guam in time so send our junior pilots back by the end of the month and we’ll dribble out disgruntled more senior pilots forced to commute to Guam. (Who knew if it was the last furlough or not?)
The little guy, Air Mike, had to speak up.
Take our profit, try to sell us, borrow money with our certificate as collateral so we’re leveraged to the hilt but you can’t be serious. You want us to furlough all our second officers on the same day with no trained replacements on Guam yet? We’ll have to cancel all our prepaid vacation customers from Japan, devastating our profitable airline and losing all our biggest travel group operators in one fell swoop. Not a great idea!
Marketing and sales in Japan are unique. As the award winning movie with Bill Murray certainly shows, some things are Lost in Translation. Japan does business differently. Once or twice a year the biggest travel operators that organize the vacation packages to Guam get together with all the airlines operating to the island and buy up in advance all the seats for the year ahead. Then they go about the business of packaging and marketing their vacations to the Japanese. These travel booking agents have given us a lot of money in advance and their customers are in receipt of flight tickets, hotel reservations and, in many cases, chapel reservations for their Western wedding. Failing to crew their return flights was not a good idea.
Guam got a reprieve just before the midnight execution approached. The furlough was postponed one month.
Another month of pay, another month to get the kids out of school and international movers to the houses, another month to make plans to get off the island in an orderly fashion. No revenue lost but a great loss for our friends and families. Guam is so far away from our true families we bonded together as a family unit while on the island and tried to support each other in those trying times.
Gordon got his money in 1995 to turn Continental around and into a first class airline with the help of Air Mike.
Guam is hardly mentioned in everyday conversations at mainline but is the jewel in the crown of Continental. Did you know that Guam-Honolulu is the most profitable route in the entire Continental system today? I rest my case.
TRY NOT TO GET THERE
We’re all commuters – even if you live just 5 miles from the airport. Someday there will be an accident that shuts your road to work down with you in the middle lane unable to attempt an alternate route. Except for both of you who live in the bag room (and you know who I’m talking about), the rest of you are reading this while commuting on an aircraft or waiting in the crew lounge bored to tears.
Listen up! Attendance and Reliability isn’t a steakhouse on the Las Vegas strip.
The words “Attendance and Reliability” strike fear in the hearts of normal pilots. Possibly written for guidance of the Chief Pilot’s Office and its administrative responsibilities, the Attendance and Reliability Program is available for all pilots to read in the Flight Operations section of the “read” file and is often printed and studied by interested pilots.
Although much can be said for standardization and equality in evaluating pilots’ attendance and reliability, none of it is nice.
Let’s step back a little and think about this. If you are eligible for perfect attendance drawings “they” love you. If, on the other hand, you own a Ford Explorer and call in sick when you are medically unable to fly, you are unreliable and suspect at best. Total sick bank, past drawings or heroics on the flight line are quickly forgotten. There are no excused absences (other than death in the family). All absences are counted in the “Attendance and Reliability Program.”
My response to this negative approach to the use of accrued sick leave was also negative – at first. Now, I try to rid my working experience (as well as my home) of negative stressful situations.
I try “not” to call in sick. I try “not” to want to rush through the terminal and security. Take off my shoes? “Sure,” I say. “Sounds good to me.”
Basically, I try “not” to get there. And do you know what? I’ve been cruising through security, making flights I didn’t expect to make and calling in sick when I’m medically unable to fly. Don’t worry, be happy! as the song from the ’90s goes. Of course, I get a note from my doctor. I may have been Navy but I’m not stupid. I try “not” to be scared of secret retribution.
How many years have I rushed around trying to make thinks happen? Too many, of course, but with very little to show for it. I took massive pay cuts at the original “Braniff International” but the company went out of business anyway. I bought way too much PeoplExpress stock on the payroll deduct plan, trying to be millionaire but to no avail.
I tried and tried but that is now history. I don’t try now. I’m still an optimist and loyal to the company but no more trying for me. I set low expectations and then am excited when I exceed them. I try “not” to expect people to be nice and compassionate.
Now, I find this new philosophy must be catching on. I run into more and more employees being nice. Are they “not” trying to be mean?
Listen up! Attendance and Reliability isn’t a steakhouse on the Las Vegas strip.
The words “Attendance and Reliability” strike fear in the hearts of normal pilots. Possibly written for guidance of the Chief Pilot’s Office and its administrative responsibilities, the Attendance and Reliability Program is available for all pilots to read in the Flight Operations section of the “read” file and is often printed and studied by interested pilots.
Although much can be said for standardization and equality in evaluating pilots’ attendance and reliability, none of it is nice.
Let’s step back a little and think about this. If you are eligible for perfect attendance drawings “they” love you. If, on the other hand, you own a Ford Explorer and call in sick when you are medically unable to fly, you are unreliable and suspect at best. Total sick bank, past drawings or heroics on the flight line are quickly forgotten. There are no excused absences (other than death in the family). All absences are counted in the “Attendance and Reliability Program.”
My response to this negative approach to the use of accrued sick leave was also negative – at first. Now, I try to rid my working experience (as well as my home) of negative stressful situations.
I try “not” to call in sick. I try “not” to want to rush through the terminal and security. Take off my shoes? “Sure,” I say. “Sounds good to me.”
Basically, I try “not” to get there. And do you know what? I’ve been cruising through security, making flights I didn’t expect to make and calling in sick when I’m medically unable to fly. Don’t worry, be happy! as the song from the ’90s goes. Of course, I get a note from my doctor. I may have been Navy but I’m not stupid. I try “not” to be scared of secret retribution.
How many years have I rushed around trying to make thinks happen? Too many, of course, but with very little to show for it. I took massive pay cuts at the original “Braniff International” but the company went out of business anyway. I bought way too much PeoplExpress stock on the payroll deduct plan, trying to be millionaire but to no avail.
I tried and tried but that is now history. I don’t try now. I’m still an optimist and loyal to the company but no more trying for me. I set low expectations and then am excited when I exceed them. I try “not” to expect people to be nice and compassionate.
Now, I find this new philosophy must be catching on. I run into more and more employees being nice. Are they “not” trying to be mean?
Sunday, July 8, 2007
What's the deal with Pilots and electronics?
I'm writing this on a standard lined writing tablet (not yellow but a subdued gray color). I admit this because I'm trying to kick the habit, the dreaded habit of buying electronic gadgets that are a "must" as rationalized by me for their timesaving characteristics. 'Timesaving" is an oxymoron like "Army Intelligence" and, likewise, is "bass ackwards."
Wait a second! I'm getting ahead of myself.
"My name is Kevin and I'm an electronics addict."
That's how I start each "EA" meeting (Electronics Anonymous). Yes, they have a 12-step program for those of us afflicted with this disease.
(Excuse me for a second. I need to call my sponsor. I just fell of the wagon and used my Franklin electronic Merriam-Webster dictionary and thesaurus to look up how to spell "disease.")
Now where were we? (By the way, he told me to trash the electronic dictionary immediately; they have books now that you can use to look that stuff up.)
It started simply enough by buying a small electronic Spanish-English dictionary and using it occasionally, just on weekends, recreationally really, just taking a break from the monotonous task of fingering the little red covered book I used with my Spanish lessons. Now I'm into an electronic five language translator with currency calculator. Where will it stop?
Let's inventory my extra bag before I started rehab. Yes, roller bag, black bag and electronics carry all. In no particular sequence I'll just pull them out:
∑ iBook (12" computer with 1100 digital pictures)
∑ i Pod (MP-3 player, of course, with 3,200 songs, all purchased by CD or bought in the itunes store online)
∑ cell phone (with camera that can send pictures to any and all e-mail addresses or phones worldwide)
∑ digital camera with 3x zoom
∑ electronic dictionary (aforementioned)
∑ five language translator and currency calculator (also aforementioned)
∑ noise canceling earphones
∑ digital bedside clock with snooze feature
∑ charger for the cell phone
∑ charger for the iPod
∑ charger for the iBook
∑ USB cable for the digital camera
∑ telephone line for on-line access
∑ extra batteries for the digital camera and noise-canceling head phones and, of course,
∑ a bag of plugs to fit European, Scandinavian and South American wall sockets to ensure 100 percent charges for all devices at all times. (Did I mention I was "OC" (obsessive compulsive)? But that's another story.)
I'm sure I forgot something but that's enough electronics for now. Total weight is 11.33 pounds. Whew! I need an ibuprofen just thinking about lifting it.
When I realized I was using electronics excessively (headache, bleary eyes, thinking about my e-mail all the time), I tried to cut down by myself. Only two electronics a night and not before 5 p.m. (it worked for alcohol, I think). At first I couldn't decide which two electronics I'd use, then, after deciding, I would watch the clock for the appropriate time. It worked for a while but then I'd move the time up a little each day. Then it happened. Twelve noon and I was online checking my e-mail, then on the cell phone checking voicemail, then both at once when I got a text message and call waiting at the same time.
I had a melt down and went cold turkey that afternoon. I shut everything off.
I'm still an electronics junkie but with the help of my new friends at EA I "choose not to use." Thank goodness there is a government program to help us addicts wean ourselves off the need for electronics and the rush it gives us. They give us paper products to ease our pain of withdrawal.
This morning I received note cards, postcards, this writing tablet and a newspaper. This will keep me busy till the meeting tonight. I can't wait for the coffee they serve at the meetings. I think Starbucks gives it to them for free. I wonder if that's a marketing tool. It worked for Phillip Morris.
Wait a second! I'm getting ahead of myself.
"My name is Kevin and I'm an electronics addict."
That's how I start each "EA" meeting (Electronics Anonymous). Yes, they have a 12-step program for those of us afflicted with this disease.
(Excuse me for a second. I need to call my sponsor. I just fell of the wagon and used my Franklin electronic Merriam-Webster dictionary and thesaurus to look up how to spell "disease.")
Now where were we? (By the way, he told me to trash the electronic dictionary immediately; they have books now that you can use to look that stuff up.)
It started simply enough by buying a small electronic Spanish-English dictionary and using it occasionally, just on weekends, recreationally really, just taking a break from the monotonous task of fingering the little red covered book I used with my Spanish lessons. Now I'm into an electronic five language translator with currency calculator. Where will it stop?
Let's inventory my extra bag before I started rehab. Yes, roller bag, black bag and electronics carry all. In no particular sequence I'll just pull them out:
∑ iBook (12" computer with 1100 digital pictures)
∑ i Pod (MP-3 player, of course, with 3,200 songs, all purchased by CD or bought in the itunes store online)
∑ cell phone (with camera that can send pictures to any and all e-mail addresses or phones worldwide)
∑ digital camera with 3x zoom
∑ electronic dictionary (aforementioned)
∑ five language translator and currency calculator (also aforementioned)
∑ noise canceling earphones
∑ digital bedside clock with snooze feature
∑ charger for the cell phone
∑ charger for the iPod
∑ charger for the iBook
∑ USB cable for the digital camera
∑ telephone line for on-line access
∑ extra batteries for the digital camera and noise-canceling head phones and, of course,
∑ a bag of plugs to fit European, Scandinavian and South American wall sockets to ensure 100 percent charges for all devices at all times. (Did I mention I was "OC" (obsessive compulsive)? But that's another story.)
I'm sure I forgot something but that's enough electronics for now. Total weight is 11.33 pounds. Whew! I need an ibuprofen just thinking about lifting it.
When I realized I was using electronics excessively (headache, bleary eyes, thinking about my e-mail all the time), I tried to cut down by myself. Only two electronics a night and not before 5 p.m. (it worked for alcohol, I think). At first I couldn't decide which two electronics I'd use, then, after deciding, I would watch the clock for the appropriate time. It worked for a while but then I'd move the time up a little each day. Then it happened. Twelve noon and I was online checking my e-mail, then on the cell phone checking voicemail, then both at once when I got a text message and call waiting at the same time.
I had a melt down and went cold turkey that afternoon. I shut everything off.
I'm still an electronics junkie but with the help of my new friends at EA I "choose not to use." Thank goodness there is a government program to help us addicts wean ourselves off the need for electronics and the rush it gives us. They give us paper products to ease our pain of withdrawal.
This morning I received note cards, postcards, this writing tablet and a newspaper. This will keep me busy till the meeting tonight. I can't wait for the coffee they serve at the meetings. I think Starbucks gives it to them for free. I wonder if that's a marketing tool. It worked for Phillip Morris.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Hard and Soft People
Hard and Soft People
Pilots are generally hard people. Not hard in the sense of tough or rough-and-ready but hard in the good sense of hard numbers, by the book, empirical by nature and that sort of thing. Pilots try to create a black and white world or a binary one with ones and zeros. “Climb to and maintain Flight Level 350” means exactly 35,000 feet above mean sea level and not one foot more or less.
Hard people seem to remember numbers easier than soft people – or just have to because their line of business depends on the recall of certain numbers. When children or adults come into the cockpit before flight they comment on all the “buttons” (in their eyes, we push buttons for a living). They ask if we have to know what all those “buttons” do. We say “yes” and there are numbers associated with all the “buttons” we need to know.
Soft people don’t have all those “buttons” to memorize but can remember all your relatives, their children’s names and ages. Soft people can be innovative, independent, show initiative and change plans as often as they like. Hard pilots may have a little difficulty going there.
Soft people are extremely fun to watch and be with as they go through life. I know because I’m married to one and she’s interesting, exciting and a self described non-numeric. We’ve been married 35 years and just completed our 23rd move.
Over the years I’ve tried to explain how easy it is for me to remember numbers like our new telephone number. I dump the old telephone numbers like I try to dump the DC-10 and B-727 numbers I no longer use. Explaining to my wife how I link numbers together to make them easier to remember is like reading your insurance policy late at night in bed when disinterest and sleepiness overcomes anyone in a 15-foot radius. On the other hand my wife types faster than I can read and does difficult crossword puzzles that overwhelm me instantly.
Here’s how I tell her to remember our new telephone number. The number is 555-541-1744 (it really isn’t) and you remember the fives and 4+1 equals 5, next the 1+7 equals 8 and the 4+4 equals 8 so all you have to remember is 5 and 8. I’m 58 so that’s easy for me. Simple, right? I don’t think so. Simple for hard people and inconsequential for soft people. They’ll learn their new telephone number. It’s not a test or a race. Write it down, carry it in a book and look at it when you need it. That’s just as simple.
Another indication that you’re soft or hard with numbers was when you were in elementary school and were learning your times tables. When you came to the nines it was tough. You memorized 3 x 9 = 27, 4 x 9 = 36 etc. Well if you were gifted with a photographic memory, then that was less than a great problem. The rest of us struggled. Others like my niece Katy picked up on a mathematical relationship that goes like this. Take any single digit number times nine and the answer is simply figured out this way: subtract one from that number and that’s the first digit of the answer. Subtract the original number from ten and that’s the second digit of the answer. Hence, 3 x 9 = 27 or 8 x 9 = 72. Are you following instructions or did you already know this? Anyway if you understand this then you qualify as a hard person.
Here’s another easy test. It involves Centigrade to Farenheit conversions. Hard people take the Centigrade temperature, double it and take 10 per cent off then add 32 and “voila’” there you have it. Soft people say “30’s hot 20’s nice ten’s cold, zero’s ice.” My wife’s asleep now that I’ve read her this article. Her crossword puzzle is strewn across her lap. Does anyone know a nine letter word for half blood wizard?
Pilots are generally hard people. Not hard in the sense of tough or rough-and-ready but hard in the good sense of hard numbers, by the book, empirical by nature and that sort of thing. Pilots try to create a black and white world or a binary one with ones and zeros. “Climb to and maintain Flight Level 350” means exactly 35,000 feet above mean sea level and not one foot more or less.
Hard people seem to remember numbers easier than soft people – or just have to because their line of business depends on the recall of certain numbers. When children or adults come into the cockpit before flight they comment on all the “buttons” (in their eyes, we push buttons for a living). They ask if we have to know what all those “buttons” do. We say “yes” and there are numbers associated with all the “buttons” we need to know.
Soft people don’t have all those “buttons” to memorize but can remember all your relatives, their children’s names and ages. Soft people can be innovative, independent, show initiative and change plans as often as they like. Hard pilots may have a little difficulty going there.
Soft people are extremely fun to watch and be with as they go through life. I know because I’m married to one and she’s interesting, exciting and a self described non-numeric. We’ve been married 35 years and just completed our 23rd move.
Over the years I’ve tried to explain how easy it is for me to remember numbers like our new telephone number. I dump the old telephone numbers like I try to dump the DC-10 and B-727 numbers I no longer use. Explaining to my wife how I link numbers together to make them easier to remember is like reading your insurance policy late at night in bed when disinterest and sleepiness overcomes anyone in a 15-foot radius. On the other hand my wife types faster than I can read and does difficult crossword puzzles that overwhelm me instantly.
Here’s how I tell her to remember our new telephone number. The number is 555-541-1744 (it really isn’t) and you remember the fives and 4+1 equals 5, next the 1+7 equals 8 and the 4+4 equals 8 so all you have to remember is 5 and 8. I’m 58 so that’s easy for me. Simple, right? I don’t think so. Simple for hard people and inconsequential for soft people. They’ll learn their new telephone number. It’s not a test or a race. Write it down, carry it in a book and look at it when you need it. That’s just as simple.
Another indication that you’re soft or hard with numbers was when you were in elementary school and were learning your times tables. When you came to the nines it was tough. You memorized 3 x 9 = 27, 4 x 9 = 36 etc. Well if you were gifted with a photographic memory, then that was less than a great problem. The rest of us struggled. Others like my niece Katy picked up on a mathematical relationship that goes like this. Take any single digit number times nine and the answer is simply figured out this way: subtract one from that number and that’s the first digit of the answer. Subtract the original number from ten and that’s the second digit of the answer. Hence, 3 x 9 = 27 or 8 x 9 = 72. Are you following instructions or did you already know this? Anyway if you understand this then you qualify as a hard person.
Here’s another easy test. It involves Centigrade to Farenheit conversions. Hard people take the Centigrade temperature, double it and take 10 per cent off then add 32 and “voila’” there you have it. Soft people say “30’s hot 20’s nice ten’s cold, zero’s ice.” My wife’s asleep now that I’ve read her this article. Her crossword puzzle is strewn across her lap. Does anyone know a nine letter word for half blood wizard?
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Pilot Epidemic
Have you noticed something different about your fellow employees lately? I’m talking physically changing before your eyes. Next time you go to work, look at the pilots’ fingernails. A bit long and oh, so dirty. Yes, they try to wash their hands more frequently and pay special attention to the nails but on “that” side of security the fingernail file is not available. Waiting for the commute home they fidget with their hands, occasionally feeling in their pocket for the Swiss Army knife they used to carry. Oh yeah, confiscated on the way to work! An amputated nail file still lingers in their memory.Did you know that there are 113 diseases of the skin and nails, some directly related to improper upkeep of the hand and nails? A recent internet search showed 496 sites advertising help with some of these maladies, but all of them requiring proper hygiene after complying with these remedies. What about us? Are we left out here like clothes to dry? Has the government forgotten our little predicament? A few phone calls I made confirmed what I already knew. They refuse to believe there is a problem, let alone a blossoming epidemic on hand (ha, ha). Back to normal! Do your job. Continue as usual. But we don’t have the tools to do the job! Please sir, let us have our 1 1/2 inch nail files back. Do you realize as pilots we can carry firearms? Give us a little training and a lock box to carry our nail files in at least.A call to the Center for Disease control did get a little sympathy but this SARS virus has them a little busy and they said they’d get back to me. They did recommend wearing latex gloves but beware there is a large part of the population that is allergic to latex, so be careful.I’m not a scientist but I have been to the Galapagos Islands and my understanding is that the pilot group and their genetic off-spring will eventually grow abnormal fingernails evolving to suit their environment (being on the secure side of the airport system nearly half of the lives). One or two generations is my guess. I do remember a picture of Howard Hughes near his airplane. Look what happened to his fingernails.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Senior speak
What Room Are You In?That should be a simple question, but it’s getting increasingly harder to answer. Room 451, no, 251 I think. Is it Dublin or Shannon? Was it the last trip I was in that same room or a different one? Are there two “R”s in Mar(r)iot(t) or two “T”s or both?Do I fly too much to Europe or is this the start of “Senior “ speak (what, was that for us)? I apologize to the younger co-pilots right now for the small memory or hearing lapses but I can remember where the crew bus picks us up in 32 different cities, so I think I’m good for something.The Euro makes it easier for all of us going to Europe, but I still occasionally call the local money by their older names (pound, punt, peso, sucres, soles). Pound and peso may still be good but what about soles? I don’t honestly remember. Current change is the problem (no pun intended). I can remember distinctly 1965 through 1975 but later on gets fuzzy. There’s only so much room in the old brain for changes or new information. I mean consequential information, of course. Aircraft systems and professional information is top priority. It’s the minutae of life that has the random access memory. When you shut down to sleep each night it clears the RAM. Next day you start over to fill it up. Lately I’ve been categorizing the crew members’ names on the printed crew list. MaryAnn gets an “F” (for front galley, of course), and Margaret goes by Jan. I believe Martha likes to be called Martita so I’ll annotate that. Does anybody remember the IRO’s name? I’m glad I flew nine different model B-727s when I was younger. Did we used to do a taxi checklist?
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