While perusing through Kevin Garrisons web log this morning (http://kevincreates.com/blog.html), enjoying my grande coffee of some sort from a foreign nation which I've never heard of but am quiet sure, given enough time, we will liberate the shit out of via high explosive ordinance (See also Sand Covered Nations) I was struck by question from the CSR at the desk that simply caused a complete and total vapor lock within the circuity of my brain.
Normally while at the airport I'm occupied with professional methods of goofing off during the slow periods, or I can be found scurrying around the T hangers during my free time and off days, but this particular morning I'd decided to camp out at the front desk which provides the most direct link the interwebs, while keeping a watchful eye on the ramp and open ear to the tower frequency. While blissfully ignoring the troubles of the world and day dreaming about burning precious blue octane at several thousand feet, the question in subject drifted across the room, into my ear and caused the melt down within the synapses, leaving me giggling and somewhat unable to reset.
"How tall is Tom Hanks?"
Rediculous right?
It's the sort of benign meaningless question that really doesn't warrant a response, as who would know such things just off hand, but either the absence of sleep from the night before or the lack of effect that the Foreign Java Juice should have been providing, caused me to completely vanish within the universe for a fraction of a second while the upstairs Vista executed a reset/restart. I can imagine as I sat with a blank stare, blue screens of death flickering across my eyes
"How tall is Tom Hanks?"
From nowhere this question came, one minute a bored wistful CSR banging out sales slips from the night before, next a great provider of mental conundrum that placed within certain range of intelligence agencies, would bring the entire operations of agents and analysts to their knees, pleading WHY!!!!!!!!
Now just what the Hell does this have to do with aviation, other than the event occurred at an airport? Contemplate this. You've just been flying for five plus hours on a long haul IFR, it's very dark, you're getting close to your drowsy stage and the bladder capacity is nearing a critical level. Picking up the ILS and lining everything up, completing the checklists and setting up for the last landing of the trip, you focus and try to hold the glide, course, and power in equilibrium to the coveted greased on touch down all while juggling one handed if you're bird doesn't have an auto-pilot. From nowhere in particular the question "How tall is Tom Hanks?" drifts across the headset and everything on your brains little view screen just goes blank. The NTSB report would probably read something like the following.
Cessna 172
Damage Significant
2 injured
Cause: PICs failure to maintain control of the aircraft while executing ILS approach. Controlled flight into terrain.
It's moments such as these that, while I laugh along with my co-workers occasionally, under no circumstances should I allow myself to become too distracted by interesting questions that demand the concentration of the cosmos, not for the simplicity of the answers to be obtained, but the very contemplation on why the question would be asked in the first place. Good luck to all of you whom this may plague now while flying IFR, KW takes no responsibility for whatever mental locks result as relaying this mornings transgressions.
Back to the IFR books, I bet Gleim or the Kings never had to deal with this sort of distraction.
KW
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Lessons Learned
Something that I want to concentrate on with this particular Blog is a review of lessons learned. No, I don't intend on replicating the monotone of the FAA check ride guys as they non nonchalantly grill you in a hot cockpit, no pressure! Nor do I wish to select favorite passages of the Holy FAR/AIM and sermon on the printed word of the FAA, thy will be done, or yours shall not. Instead I'd like to share what I've picked up from flouncing about he sky.
I truly believe that in every flight there are lessons to be learned. Any flight that a lesson was not gleaned is either a flight that you should have been paying attention to, or alternatively, were riding in the back of the pressurized tube while some other crazy bastard was at the controls. Last night, in a moment of educational Karma I was reminded of two very important lessons that no pilot should ever forget. After launching an adventure to KVNC for a couple of hundred dollars chicken sandwiches, an ocean view, and live entertainment, the Girlfriend and I loaded up into the age graced 172 that belongs to another pilot in the Family and attempted to return to KLAL. After listening to a rather lengthy weather briefer describe every known thunderstorm and SIGMET hovering under the black star laden sky I developed a case of "Let's Go-idus."
A common ailment of pilots young and old, "Let's Go-idus" is characteristically known to cause even the most experienced and wise amongst us to throw common sense and the strong advice of others directly out the window in order to get air born and ultimately to the destination before the looming skies come crashing in.
Lesson ONE: "Lets Go-idus" will get you killed.
Jumping into the Cessna and Launching out of VNC for LAL, I already knew we'd be pushing it but confidently I carried on with Tampa ATC dialed in, flight following tracking my efforts, and guiding us North to avoid a growing storm to the East. No problem, the eyes on the ground are watching out , just a little longer flight and more time in the log.
Lesson TWO: ATC may be able to see weather, but clouds are very much YOUR PROBLEM.
Continuing North bound the little 172 was holding a respectable 100kts even considering the STOL kit dragging it down, and at 2000 feet everything seemed peachy keen. Of course peachy keen is exactly where you want to stay, unfortunately I was about to learn for mentioned Lesson Two, something that I had already been taught but the Aviation Gods were convinced a refresher was in order. ATC asked me to take up a heading, a right turn towards the very storm I was trying to stay away from to clear the way for another aircraft that was attempting to get into a close by field and had little room to move himself due to the surrounding thunder-bumpers. Looking around the windows to my new course, alarm bells were already dulling beginning to ring although so far distant amongst the radio chatter and flying the plane that I missed them entirely. ATC reported weather at two miles distant, but it was my job to avoid the clouds only a few thousand feet away, until I made my turn to course...right into them. Totally my fault, lack of thinking the culprit. CUE THE BELLS!
"Ahh, Tampa Approach, NXYZ is in the soup, need to come back to 360."
"NXYZ, maintain VFR (in a rather surprised tone of voice I might add) descend if necessary and turn back to 360"
"NXYZ, descending to One Thousand five and turning to 360"
"Piper YZX do you have Cessna traffic in sight?"
"Traffic in sight, he just popped out of that cloud he slipped into"
At this point, having just spent the last twenty long seconds on the instruments at night with minimal IFR training I was more than relieved to pop out to lights on the ground and clear air in front. Not shaken up by the sudden envelopment of white mind you, no the adrenaline rush would come seconds later as the edge of the storm, found the edge of my aircraft. Somewhere while passing through one thousand seven hundred feet the mighty 172 began tossing and bucking and strangely enough, flying sideways to my left. Mother Nature had stepped in a was kindly reminding me that it's A: not nice to fool or question her, and B: calling her a fickle whore while safely on the ground warranted a little Karma be sent my way.
TIME TO LAND.
Talking to Tampa rapidly, I requested a deviation to the same airport the previously mentioned Piper was headed for and with him in sight, began following like a lost puppy to the beautifully lighted, heavenly sent runway some three miles away. Meanwhile, back in the cockpit my widened eyes and rapid voice over the radio were doing little to sooth or calm my one and only who had a rather strong grip on the chair beneath her and eyes locked steadily on mine, despite the fact mine were firmly glued to the cockpit and instruments before me. Keeping it together however was first priority in my mind and I calmly relaxed and focused my eyes to the task of getting to SRQ, realizing that it doesn't do anyone any good what-so-ever if the Pilot throws his hands up and starts yelling "Holy Shit, we're all going to DIE!"
I sit here now and honestly can say that the landing I made was one of the softest I've ever preformed and was so gentle that my girlfriend thought we were still gliding along and wondered when I was actually going to stop screwing around and land the plane. I grin alot over those landings, no matter the conditions.
Taxing in to the nearest FBO, any port at that point, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and stepped out of the cockpit, a bit fried from the adrenaline and a more learned individual. Thoughts of becoming an NTSB report, or worse a running gag amongst other pilots passing gently away from my mind. I was on Terra Firm, chalks beneath the mains. Not a drop of water hit the ramp that night, the storm simply stayed put and chocked itself out in place. Of course, this took the better half of two hours ad I didn't get back to LAL till around 1am local, but the most important lesson gleaned from this flight was this. If the sky looks iffy before you get going, DON'T
KW
I truly believe that in every flight there are lessons to be learned. Any flight that a lesson was not gleaned is either a flight that you should have been paying attention to, or alternatively, were riding in the back of the pressurized tube while some other crazy bastard was at the controls. Last night, in a moment of educational Karma I was reminded of two very important lessons that no pilot should ever forget. After launching an adventure to KVNC for a couple of hundred dollars chicken sandwiches, an ocean view, and live entertainment, the Girlfriend and I loaded up into the age graced 172 that belongs to another pilot in the Family and attempted to return to KLAL. After listening to a rather lengthy weather briefer describe every known thunderstorm and SIGMET hovering under the black star laden sky I developed a case of "Let's Go-idus."
A common ailment of pilots young and old, "Let's Go-idus" is characteristically known to cause even the most experienced and wise amongst us to throw common sense and the strong advice of others directly out the window in order to get air born and ultimately to the destination before the looming skies come crashing in.
Lesson ONE: "Lets Go-idus" will get you killed.
Jumping into the Cessna and Launching out of VNC for LAL, I already knew we'd be pushing it but confidently I carried on with Tampa ATC dialed in, flight following tracking my efforts, and guiding us North to avoid a growing storm to the East. No problem, the eyes on the ground are watching out , just a little longer flight and more time in the log.
Lesson TWO: ATC may be able to see weather, but clouds are very much YOUR PROBLEM.
Continuing North bound the little 172 was holding a respectable 100kts even considering the STOL kit dragging it down, and at 2000 feet everything seemed peachy keen. Of course peachy keen is exactly where you want to stay, unfortunately I was about to learn for mentioned Lesson Two, something that I had already been taught but the Aviation Gods were convinced a refresher was in order. ATC asked me to take up a heading, a right turn towards the very storm I was trying to stay away from to clear the way for another aircraft that was attempting to get into a close by field and had little room to move himself due to the surrounding thunder-bumpers. Looking around the windows to my new course, alarm bells were already dulling beginning to ring although so far distant amongst the radio chatter and flying the plane that I missed them entirely. ATC reported weather at two miles distant, but it was my job to avoid the clouds only a few thousand feet away, until I made my turn to course...right into them. Totally my fault, lack of thinking the culprit. CUE THE BELLS!
"Ahh, Tampa Approach, NXYZ is in the soup, need to come back to 360."
"NXYZ, maintain VFR (in a rather surprised tone of voice I might add) descend if necessary and turn back to 360"
"NXYZ, descending to One Thousand five and turning to 360"
"Piper YZX do you have Cessna traffic in sight?"
"Traffic in sight, he just popped out of that cloud he slipped into"
At this point, having just spent the last twenty long seconds on the instruments at night with minimal IFR training I was more than relieved to pop out to lights on the ground and clear air in front. Not shaken up by the sudden envelopment of white mind you, no the adrenaline rush would come seconds later as the edge of the storm, found the edge of my aircraft. Somewhere while passing through one thousand seven hundred feet the mighty 172 began tossing and bucking and strangely enough, flying sideways to my left. Mother Nature had stepped in a was kindly reminding me that it's A: not nice to fool or question her, and B: calling her a fickle whore while safely on the ground warranted a little Karma be sent my way.
TIME TO LAND.
Talking to Tampa rapidly, I requested a deviation to the same airport the previously mentioned Piper was headed for and with him in sight, began following like a lost puppy to the beautifully lighted, heavenly sent runway some three miles away. Meanwhile, back in the cockpit my widened eyes and rapid voice over the radio were doing little to sooth or calm my one and only who had a rather strong grip on the chair beneath her and eyes locked steadily on mine, despite the fact mine were firmly glued to the cockpit and instruments before me. Keeping it together however was first priority in my mind and I calmly relaxed and focused my eyes to the task of getting to SRQ, realizing that it doesn't do anyone any good what-so-ever if the Pilot throws his hands up and starts yelling "Holy Shit, we're all going to DIE!"
I sit here now and honestly can say that the landing I made was one of the softest I've ever preformed and was so gentle that my girlfriend thought we were still gliding along and wondered when I was actually going to stop screwing around and land the plane. I grin alot over those landings, no matter the conditions.
Taxing in to the nearest FBO, any port at that point, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and stepped out of the cockpit, a bit fried from the adrenaline and a more learned individual. Thoughts of becoming an NTSB report, or worse a running gag amongst other pilots passing gently away from my mind. I was on Terra Firm, chalks beneath the mains. Not a drop of water hit the ramp that night, the storm simply stayed put and chocked itself out in place. Of course, this took the better half of two hours ad I didn't get back to LAL till around 1am local, but the most important lesson gleaned from this flight was this. If the sky looks iffy before you get going, DON'T
KW
Greetings Travelers
For those of you migrating in from my previous Blog, a collection of random thoughts, original short stories (that ultimately failed to go anywhere) and satirical rantings WELCOME to a new ball game. For those of you just stepping in, or blundering through the door, or just passing by with a bit of a wave and a "How's your father?" welcome to my spin of General Aviation, a focused attempt to keep my written efforts driven towards the sights, sounds, and emotions of the GA Pilot on an extremely tight budget. Join me as I relate the world 
of Flight through my own trials and tribulations, humor and insight, love and fright as I work my way not only through my additional ratings, but the never ending upkeep of my own Cessna 150, (502KW) graciously known as Checkers, a work very much still in progress. I'm the third of three in my immediate family who slips the surely bounds, son of an A&P mechanic and Cessna Pilot, older brother to a wise ass Cyclic Monkey, (see also Helicopter Pilot) and Cessna owner, and passionate follower of all that leaves this world below and behind.
From the well worn and Florida favorite runways of KLAL, welcome to the home of Red Rooster Aviation, check back often as I will be posting frequently with my own slightly off interpretation of the world.
KW
of Flight through my own trials and tribulations, humor and insight, love and fright as I work my way not only through my additional ratings, but the never ending upkeep of my own Cessna 150, (502KW) graciously known as Checkers, a work very much still in progress. I'm the third of three in my immediate family who slips the surely bounds, son of an A&P mechanic and Cessna Pilot, older brother to a wise ass Cyclic Monkey, (see also Helicopter Pilot) and Cessna owner, and passionate follower of all that leaves this world below and behind.From the well worn and Florida favorite runways of KLAL, welcome to the home of Red Rooster Aviation, check back often as I will be posting frequently with my own slightly off interpretation of the world.
KW
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