SUNAIR
Gliding Free
Pre-Prologue:
FREE WANDERER II
In love and honor he graced the sky
through clouds of white, which, like a stream
dazzling and bright, shone silver
Life and love, free and true.
High over mountain he flew
free from the surly bonds of earth
Gliding on gust like the eagle
effortless, and instinct
For days and years he spent at the cockpit
and in the briefing room to learn his craft
sifting through manuals and charts
for as long as time itself it seemed
But somehow, all of that did not matter,
or was, perhaps, even grantedly enjoyable
the limit of procedure, capping the enormity of everything
a necessity not only of safety
but also of the soul.
For the grandeur and freedom pulled at his innermost being
and for a moment, just like the eagle
instinct took over, and overwhelmed thought
with majesty and vastness.
Gliding Free. My new Airliner Fic/Flightsim fanfic.
Moderator: LadyTevar
Gliding Free. My new Airliner Fic/Flightsim fanfic.
_________________
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
Prologue
Chapter 1: First Solo
The instructor opened the door as the Cessna C172M came to a halt on the taxiway, and the noisy burbling sound of the Lycoming Textron engine got even louder. Terrance listened through the consistent rumbling of the engine to the instructor. “OK Terry” the instructor said through the intercom, sounding strangely modulated through Terry’s speakers (Everyone he knew, knew him as Terry instead of Terrance) “I’m going to pull my plug now, but remember you know what to do, you’ve passed the tests so far fine, and your pretty much ready, you feeling confident?”
Terrance nodded, feeling eager to get back into the air, sans instructor. The instructor he was with today was the chief instructor of the flying school at the small general aviation airport in Seattle. He’d seen him at the desk and giving lessons to the guys going for their Command Instrument ratings, but it was the first time he himself had flown with him. It was standard procedure to make new pilots fly with a different, and senior, instructor than their usual instructor for practical test flights.
The instructor did a quick pre-takeoff check. “Breaks on Terry?” he asked. “Yup” Terry replied. The instructor then pushed the throttle a touch forward bringing the revs up to about 1500rpm, he quickly opened up the Carburetor heating system, and closed it, “Go Magneto’s right only” the instructor curtly instructed. Terrance clicked the key from the “both” position to “Right” and the engine’s sound changed somewhat, the tachometer reading 1450rpm. No sooner had the engine stabilized at the lower reading than the Instructor requested that Terrance change to left only magneto systems. Terrance switched the key-locked magneto switch back to “Both” momentarily before positioning it on “left”. The engine regained the full 1500 revs, but then slowed back to the 1450 again. It wasn’t a moment later that the instructor asked Terrance to return the magneto switch to both again. Moments later the increased noise of the engine, released, both it’s pitch and volume descending quickly to stabilize out again at a low rumble, still quite loud, but seemingly soft after the higher revs of the magneto check. Terrance couldn’t help thinking that they had only done such a check, albeit a more thorough one, only twenty minutes earlier before the First solo practical test.
The instructor gave one last speech over the intercom before unplugging his headset. “Ok, so as you remember, it’s a standard circuit pattern, only once around unless there’s a go around. Full stop to this runway, and remember to vacate to this side, I don’t want to walk back to the hangars. Just do everything like you did it the last three times and it should be all good!” and with that he popped out of the aircraft, turning back to close the door. The door, as usual with the C172, took a few attempts to close. Terrance, still with both feet on the breaks, leant over to push the locking handle up to retract the locking bolt further so that it wouldn’t contact the doorframe preventing the door from closing. The instructor gave it one last good shove, and Terrance pushed the handle into the closed and locked position. The Instructor double checked with a hefty tug on the door, and, when it remained stuck fast as it should be, he looked up and backed away, giving a thumbs up on both hands as he headed obliquely away from the aircraft toward it’s tail and toward the bench on the side of the taxiway.
The fuzzy feeling of elation set in as Terence looked forward again, seeing the clear taxiway, the Air Traffic Control tower ahead, and realizing that, for the first time, He was alone in the aircraft. Grinning to himself he took the throttle in his hand, increasing the power to just under 1200 rpm until the aircraft began to slowly trundle along the taxiway.
Adjusting the power Terrance prepared in his head the radio call to tower, wanting to make a good impression. He glanced past the perimeter fence to the small car park on the edge of the runway, noting his parents and girlfriend standing around his parent’s car, tell tale sign the radio scanner aerial in his Fathers hands. He was determined to make this solo the best circuit he had ever done.
Relaxing his grip on the control yoke for a little moment as he changed the frequency from the Ground controller, 119.95 to the Tower controller on 126.25mhz, he let the weight of the elevator push the control yoke away from him for a moment as he pushed his left foot down in a very gentle manner to turn the aircraft toward the runway 11 Left. There was one aircraft on finals and so he waited a few seconds in silence, as he slowed the aircraft down on the wheel breaks. The engine sounded almost relaxed, as the aircraft came to a lazy stop on the taxiway.
The radio sprouted to life with the firm voice in the tower clearing the aircraft on final for Touch and go. Terrance noted that the voice was a new one, different to the voice that had been present throughout his flight with the Instructor in tow, a slightly higher tone. He seemed to speak faster also. Once the incoming aircraft acknowledged his clearance, Terrance keyed the radio with the yoke-mounted transmit button and spoke. “Tower, this is Cessna two two eight alpha charlie for entry into the pattern, holding short runway one one left with echo.”
Terrance almost forgot to call the last piece of the call “with Echo” signifying that he had the weather information signified as echo by the automatic terminal information system of the airfield. They had checked it just before takeoff the first time and then just before the Instructor exited the aircraft, noting no change. Each time the weather information changed, the letter that designated the information would cycle up one, so that if a pilot checked in with, say, information Delta, but Echo was current, then the Controller would know to read the weather report to him, or tell him the items that had changed from when Delta was current.
There was a short silence before the controller came back with the reply instruction. “Roger, two eight alpha charlie Hold short runway one one left, traffic is a Cessna on finals”. Terrance replied concisely, feeling happy and elated. “Two eight alpha charlie holding short one one left”. In the next few seconds he became aware of the noise of the engine again, It was almost unconsciously like the engine sound was somehow reduced during his conversation with the tower, of course this was not so. The Lycoming simply continued burbling away, it was just in his concentration that the sound of the engine had seemed to fade into the distance.
Terrance took a last look over the instrument panel, making sure all was normal with the aircraft, and then sat back to watch the Cessna complete it’s touchdown.
The inbound aircraft touched down a few yards into the runway, the main gear struts just bouncing noticeably. The flare was a bit flat, and it seemed to have gotten a slight gust of wind on final. As the aircraft sped along the runway, cleaning up it’s flap, the controller spoke again over the radio frequency, the voice sounding almost electronic.
“Two Eight Alpha Charlie, Runway One One Left, line up and wait”
Terrance pushed the throttle a little way forward and the engine increased in pitch, sounding almost cautiously excited.
“Line up and wait runway One One Left Eight Alpha Charlie” replied Terrance through the keyed mike, appending his own callsign as the controller before had done, reducing it to a three alpha numeral callsign, hoping that the controller might follow suit as the last one did. It was a common practice to append callsigns if no confusion would result from it. And as there was no other “Eight Alpha Charlie” in the circuit, or indeed, on this frequency at all, the last controller had been using the appended version.
As the Cessna made it’s way around the corner to line up with the runway centerline, Terrance brought the throttle back to idle again to slow down and begin a little braking. Terrance looked up the runway to line himself up with the centerline and noted the Cessna was again airborne, the majority of it’s top, rear surface visible, and the rear windows reflecting the glare of the sun. The aircraft in front was almost purely white, and it’s glare was considerable, making Terrance wince a little as he squinted out the glare. The engine, again at it’s idling constant sound, burbling with a consistency of, perhaps, auditory breakfast cereal, now took on a little more of an edgy character. Terrance felt his heart beating just a little faster, waiting for the inevitable takeoff clearance, like a racing car driver waiting for the start of the race, or an Astronaut waiting for the countdown to cycle through zero and send them hurtling toward the moon. Terrance smiled at the prospect, though with a little sadness. It was still a recent memory the loss of the valiant crew of Challenger, and the feeling, indeed memory was still haunting. He pushed the feeling aside and recomposed himself in a moment. He still had a latent grin on his face, and used that to remind him of what was happening. Here he was, in a Cessna C172, sitting on the runway, seconds away from taking the aircraft up into the air with no-one on board but himself.
As the aircraft in front gained more and more height, the tower controller finally came over the radio to release the bundle of exuberance into the air. In the always under-stated voice of generic Air traffic controllers everywhere, Payne tower released Terrance and his charge to the sky.
“Cessna Two Eight Alpha Charlie runway one one left cleared for takeoff.”
Terrance replied back “One One Left cleared for takeoff Two Eight Alpha Charlie”. Slightly disappointed that the controller had not taken his lead to append the callsign, but happy that the wait to be let loose was finally over.
The engine responded wonderfully as he opened the throttle, smoothly, all the way open. The Engine transformed from a deep soulful growl to an all encompassing, ear covering roar. The rush of adrenaline and excitement being further stimulated by acceleration forces and the sudden feeling of being in control of something, absolutely marvelous and powerful. Terrance held the yoke a little more taught, keeping the elevator somewhere near where he felt the neutral position would be.
“Airspeed active, taco 2300 steady, and instruments green” said Terrance to no-one in particular as he went through the monitoring process of the takeoff. At this point the aircraft could be still bought to a standstill only halfway down the runway should it be required. As the airspeed climbed further toward the takeoff speed, the air started pushing the elevator to it’s neutral position, just slightly further toward him. The aircraft’s nose began to feel like it was trying to pull itself up, so Terrance held some downward force on the elevator. The trim was slightly off, the aircraft simply wanted to get airborne. “Fifty five knots” Terrance spoke, louder, almost as a secret language to the aircraft itself that it would now be allowed to become airborne. Terrance relaxed the forward pressure and the nose lazily rotated up, suddenly the ride became ultra-smooth, though not before a small feeling of suddenly drifting slightly left set in. The wind was slightly gusty and carrying the aircraft in a direction a little bit left of where the nose was pointed. Terrance corrected the aircraft left, feeling a hotness under his skin, of responsibility and controlled excitement.
The aircraft accelerated a little toward seventy knots, and Terrance began to raise the nose a touch more as the altitude climbed higher. The small, well-kept needles, which indicated altitude, started rotating clockwise, passing toward the 3, indicating 300 feet. Terrance took a quick glance over his right shoulder, noting the airports runways, and that he was just a touch left of the runway left. Just about perfect so far. Adjusting the backpressure he held on the yoke, he kept the speed indicator needle pegged between the mark for 70 knots, and the little notch that indicated 75 knots. Kind of like a balancing act, if the needle drifted toward the 70, a slight relaxing of the backpressure would slow it’s movement to a stop, maybe reversing it. If the needle drifted toward the 75 mark, a slight increase in the backpressure would ease the needle back down.
In only a few seconds the Altitude passed 500ft. As the Airfield was more or less at 0 feet altitude, this was the point in the circuit pattern where the aircraft was permitted to turn.
Keeping up the balancing act with the pitch and speed, Terrance then turned the yoke to the left; setting up a bank between the first and second notches on the artificial horizon, while also keeping a good look out the window. The aircraft turned smoothly in response to the inputs and he added just a little rudder to keep the turn coordinated and smooth. Continuing the turning climb until, glancing over his left shoulder he estimated his position to be climbing away at a 90-degree angle from the runway. Surprised to find the aircraft at the circuit height of 1000ft so soon, Terrance overshot his altitude by almost 100ft, reducing the throttle, which because of the increase in speed during the climb was now sitting at about 2600rpm, down to a reading of 2400rpm and set about stabilizing the aircraft into a slight descent to recapture 1000ft. It wasn’t long before the turn onto base leg was to come up, so Terrance looked intently for the other Cessna.
During the climb, Terry also noted another aircraft call inbound. Not in the pattern, this was an aircraft arriving to Payne field from somewhere else. Now as he looked for the other Cessna, and stabilized his aircraft into a thirty-degree bank turn to final.
The pilot of the other Cessna in the pattern came on the radio.
“…ssna Eight Hotel Golf downwind for Touch and go”
Terrance steered the aircraft out of the turn, being careful not to let it balloon out as he leveled the wings. He pushed the trim wheel down a few rotations to ease the pressure the elevators where giving on the yoke, and double checked his spacing with the runway, and altitude while the controller dealt with the other aircraft.
Terrance keyed the radio once there was a space to talk, and, after a small hesitation, declared himself on downwind for a full stop. Feeling a little heady for a moment as the controller stated the obvious that he was number two in the sequence, and to continue approach for runway one one left.
The turn to base and beginning of descent was always the most difficult part of the pattern to fly, requiring good judgment. Landing an aircraft was no easy task. After nearly 20 hours of flying, much of that in the pattern, Terrance was still no expert at it, but knew enough to not kill himself. He felt he was probably good enough to not even make a fool of himself in front of, not only the instructor, but also the Parents and girlfriend.
Mel had been new to Highschool, arriving only in year 11. Her parents had gotten jobs in Seattle, though it was likely not a permanent thing. They still owned their house in San Francisco, California. Terrance had somehow managed to befriend her almost right away. She was a quiet girl in her own way. Also pretty, though some didn’t think especially so, some skin issues, but not especially bad. Terrance was planning on taking her to the Prom at the end of the school year. It was quite amazing how fast things had progressed from first meeting, to dating to the point of bringing her out to watch his first solo with the parents, but it was a good thing. She was however, only a fleeting thought, lasting only a moment. Instead replaced with procedure, although a quick glance out to the horizon, a glistening, beckoning horizon, made Terrance feel at once awed and humbled. King and servant at once.
“Fifteen hundred revs” he spoke aloud as he smoothly banked the aircraft into the turn to Base. Holding the altitude as the aircraft slowed down to 90 knots. “Flap ten”. Moving the switch to place the flaps to their ten-degree down position, Terrance relaxed the backpressure letting the aircraft begin descending. The Cessna in front was just about touched down on the runway, looking small and insignificant in the distance. The parents and car at the threshold fence were not even noticeable at all. Terrance kept a close watch on his progress, noticing a twin engined aircraft just a little lower, and a touch to the right heading more or less right at him and his aircraft. Noticing his profile getting a little high, Terrance opened more flap to steepen his descent angle. “Flap twenty” he noted, and just for extra measure, pulled some power off to steepen the descent even more, while pegging the airspeed at 70 knots.
Mentally preparing to turn to finals and loose the five knots to get to finals speed at the same time, Terrance heard the Controller give him the clearance to land and vacate to the left side.
“Twenty Eight Alpha Charlie cleared to land one one left vacate to the Left”
The controller then cleared the twin baron to land on one one Right as Terrence began his finals checks. “Ok, Breaks released, Undercarriage, Mixture full rich, Fuel set to both…” he said aloud to himself, realizing he had not said his before landing checklist while on the downwind leg, and continued on “Three hundred feet, tower no light gun, runway is clear, cleared to land and Carby heat off”. As Terry said the items out loud his eyes went to each control which related to the items, and placed his hand on them in the well-rehearsed ritual of the memorized checklist items, maintaining his left hand on the yoke and the aircraft flying the correct profile. The turn to finals complete, and speed reduced to 65 knots, Terrance lowered the flaps to the landing setting of thirty degrees, and, adjusting the throttle a little, concentrated all his effort on getting the aircraft on the runway. Eyes darting from instrument to out the window, to instrument again, the picture seemed to slide right into the correct position, The aircraft was crabbing just a little, so Terrance waited till about the flare height, and reducing the throttle to Idle, added a little rudder with his feet, and a little movement of aileron to counter, holding the aircraft flat, and at the same time pulling the nose up just a touch, nice and smoothly.
The only thing announcing his touchdown were the two, quiet skid like sounds, one just a fraction of a second ahead of the other, of the rubber tires contacting the runway. Terrance smiled to himself as he realized he had just accomplished is first solo flight. Not only that but it had been the best landing he had yet achieved. A true “Greaser” as they said. Elated and smiling, proud of his achievement and still enjoying the glow of the moment, Terrance turned off the runway and called the tower “Two Eight Alpha Charlie clear of runway left”. And with that his first ever flight as "Pilot in Command" was over.
Chapter 1: First Solo
The instructor opened the door as the Cessna C172M came to a halt on the taxiway, and the noisy burbling sound of the Lycoming Textron engine got even louder. Terrance listened through the consistent rumbling of the engine to the instructor. “OK Terry” the instructor said through the intercom, sounding strangely modulated through Terry’s speakers (Everyone he knew, knew him as Terry instead of Terrance) “I’m going to pull my plug now, but remember you know what to do, you’ve passed the tests so far fine, and your pretty much ready, you feeling confident?”
Terrance nodded, feeling eager to get back into the air, sans instructor. The instructor he was with today was the chief instructor of the flying school at the small general aviation airport in Seattle. He’d seen him at the desk and giving lessons to the guys going for their Command Instrument ratings, but it was the first time he himself had flown with him. It was standard procedure to make new pilots fly with a different, and senior, instructor than their usual instructor for practical test flights.
The instructor did a quick pre-takeoff check. “Breaks on Terry?” he asked. “Yup” Terry replied. The instructor then pushed the throttle a touch forward bringing the revs up to about 1500rpm, he quickly opened up the Carburetor heating system, and closed it, “Go Magneto’s right only” the instructor curtly instructed. Terrance clicked the key from the “both” position to “Right” and the engine’s sound changed somewhat, the tachometer reading 1450rpm. No sooner had the engine stabilized at the lower reading than the Instructor requested that Terrance change to left only magneto systems. Terrance switched the key-locked magneto switch back to “Both” momentarily before positioning it on “left”. The engine regained the full 1500 revs, but then slowed back to the 1450 again. It wasn’t a moment later that the instructor asked Terrance to return the magneto switch to both again. Moments later the increased noise of the engine, released, both it’s pitch and volume descending quickly to stabilize out again at a low rumble, still quite loud, but seemingly soft after the higher revs of the magneto check. Terrance couldn’t help thinking that they had only done such a check, albeit a more thorough one, only twenty minutes earlier before the First solo practical test.
The instructor gave one last speech over the intercom before unplugging his headset. “Ok, so as you remember, it’s a standard circuit pattern, only once around unless there’s a go around. Full stop to this runway, and remember to vacate to this side, I don’t want to walk back to the hangars. Just do everything like you did it the last three times and it should be all good!” and with that he popped out of the aircraft, turning back to close the door. The door, as usual with the C172, took a few attempts to close. Terrance, still with both feet on the breaks, leant over to push the locking handle up to retract the locking bolt further so that it wouldn’t contact the doorframe preventing the door from closing. The instructor gave it one last good shove, and Terrance pushed the handle into the closed and locked position. The Instructor double checked with a hefty tug on the door, and, when it remained stuck fast as it should be, he looked up and backed away, giving a thumbs up on both hands as he headed obliquely away from the aircraft toward it’s tail and toward the bench on the side of the taxiway.
The fuzzy feeling of elation set in as Terence looked forward again, seeing the clear taxiway, the Air Traffic Control tower ahead, and realizing that, for the first time, He was alone in the aircraft. Grinning to himself he took the throttle in his hand, increasing the power to just under 1200 rpm until the aircraft began to slowly trundle along the taxiway.
Adjusting the power Terrance prepared in his head the radio call to tower, wanting to make a good impression. He glanced past the perimeter fence to the small car park on the edge of the runway, noting his parents and girlfriend standing around his parent’s car, tell tale sign the radio scanner aerial in his Fathers hands. He was determined to make this solo the best circuit he had ever done.
Relaxing his grip on the control yoke for a little moment as he changed the frequency from the Ground controller, 119.95 to the Tower controller on 126.25mhz, he let the weight of the elevator push the control yoke away from him for a moment as he pushed his left foot down in a very gentle manner to turn the aircraft toward the runway 11 Left. There was one aircraft on finals and so he waited a few seconds in silence, as he slowed the aircraft down on the wheel breaks. The engine sounded almost relaxed, as the aircraft came to a lazy stop on the taxiway.
The radio sprouted to life with the firm voice in the tower clearing the aircraft on final for Touch and go. Terrance noted that the voice was a new one, different to the voice that had been present throughout his flight with the Instructor in tow, a slightly higher tone. He seemed to speak faster also. Once the incoming aircraft acknowledged his clearance, Terrance keyed the radio with the yoke-mounted transmit button and spoke. “Tower, this is Cessna two two eight alpha charlie for entry into the pattern, holding short runway one one left with echo.”
Terrance almost forgot to call the last piece of the call “with Echo” signifying that he had the weather information signified as echo by the automatic terminal information system of the airfield. They had checked it just before takeoff the first time and then just before the Instructor exited the aircraft, noting no change. Each time the weather information changed, the letter that designated the information would cycle up one, so that if a pilot checked in with, say, information Delta, but Echo was current, then the Controller would know to read the weather report to him, or tell him the items that had changed from when Delta was current.
There was a short silence before the controller came back with the reply instruction. “Roger, two eight alpha charlie Hold short runway one one left, traffic is a Cessna on finals”. Terrance replied concisely, feeling happy and elated. “Two eight alpha charlie holding short one one left”. In the next few seconds he became aware of the noise of the engine again, It was almost unconsciously like the engine sound was somehow reduced during his conversation with the tower, of course this was not so. The Lycoming simply continued burbling away, it was just in his concentration that the sound of the engine had seemed to fade into the distance.
Terrance took a last look over the instrument panel, making sure all was normal with the aircraft, and then sat back to watch the Cessna complete it’s touchdown.
The inbound aircraft touched down a few yards into the runway, the main gear struts just bouncing noticeably. The flare was a bit flat, and it seemed to have gotten a slight gust of wind on final. As the aircraft sped along the runway, cleaning up it’s flap, the controller spoke again over the radio frequency, the voice sounding almost electronic.
“Two Eight Alpha Charlie, Runway One One Left, line up and wait”
Terrance pushed the throttle a little way forward and the engine increased in pitch, sounding almost cautiously excited.
“Line up and wait runway One One Left Eight Alpha Charlie” replied Terrance through the keyed mike, appending his own callsign as the controller before had done, reducing it to a three alpha numeral callsign, hoping that the controller might follow suit as the last one did. It was a common practice to append callsigns if no confusion would result from it. And as there was no other “Eight Alpha Charlie” in the circuit, or indeed, on this frequency at all, the last controller had been using the appended version.
As the Cessna made it’s way around the corner to line up with the runway centerline, Terrance brought the throttle back to idle again to slow down and begin a little braking. Terrance looked up the runway to line himself up with the centerline and noted the Cessna was again airborne, the majority of it’s top, rear surface visible, and the rear windows reflecting the glare of the sun. The aircraft in front was almost purely white, and it’s glare was considerable, making Terrance wince a little as he squinted out the glare. The engine, again at it’s idling constant sound, burbling with a consistency of, perhaps, auditory breakfast cereal, now took on a little more of an edgy character. Terrance felt his heart beating just a little faster, waiting for the inevitable takeoff clearance, like a racing car driver waiting for the start of the race, or an Astronaut waiting for the countdown to cycle through zero and send them hurtling toward the moon. Terrance smiled at the prospect, though with a little sadness. It was still a recent memory the loss of the valiant crew of Challenger, and the feeling, indeed memory was still haunting. He pushed the feeling aside and recomposed himself in a moment. He still had a latent grin on his face, and used that to remind him of what was happening. Here he was, in a Cessna C172, sitting on the runway, seconds away from taking the aircraft up into the air with no-one on board but himself.
As the aircraft in front gained more and more height, the tower controller finally came over the radio to release the bundle of exuberance into the air. In the always under-stated voice of generic Air traffic controllers everywhere, Payne tower released Terrance and his charge to the sky.
“Cessna Two Eight Alpha Charlie runway one one left cleared for takeoff.”
Terrance replied back “One One Left cleared for takeoff Two Eight Alpha Charlie”. Slightly disappointed that the controller had not taken his lead to append the callsign, but happy that the wait to be let loose was finally over.
The engine responded wonderfully as he opened the throttle, smoothly, all the way open. The Engine transformed from a deep soulful growl to an all encompassing, ear covering roar. The rush of adrenaline and excitement being further stimulated by acceleration forces and the sudden feeling of being in control of something, absolutely marvelous and powerful. Terrance held the yoke a little more taught, keeping the elevator somewhere near where he felt the neutral position would be.
“Airspeed active, taco 2300 steady, and instruments green” said Terrance to no-one in particular as he went through the monitoring process of the takeoff. At this point the aircraft could be still bought to a standstill only halfway down the runway should it be required. As the airspeed climbed further toward the takeoff speed, the air started pushing the elevator to it’s neutral position, just slightly further toward him. The aircraft’s nose began to feel like it was trying to pull itself up, so Terrance held some downward force on the elevator. The trim was slightly off, the aircraft simply wanted to get airborne. “Fifty five knots” Terrance spoke, louder, almost as a secret language to the aircraft itself that it would now be allowed to become airborne. Terrance relaxed the forward pressure and the nose lazily rotated up, suddenly the ride became ultra-smooth, though not before a small feeling of suddenly drifting slightly left set in. The wind was slightly gusty and carrying the aircraft in a direction a little bit left of where the nose was pointed. Terrance corrected the aircraft left, feeling a hotness under his skin, of responsibility and controlled excitement.
The aircraft accelerated a little toward seventy knots, and Terrance began to raise the nose a touch more as the altitude climbed higher. The small, well-kept needles, which indicated altitude, started rotating clockwise, passing toward the 3, indicating 300 feet. Terrance took a quick glance over his right shoulder, noting the airports runways, and that he was just a touch left of the runway left. Just about perfect so far. Adjusting the backpressure he held on the yoke, he kept the speed indicator needle pegged between the mark for 70 knots, and the little notch that indicated 75 knots. Kind of like a balancing act, if the needle drifted toward the 70, a slight relaxing of the backpressure would slow it’s movement to a stop, maybe reversing it. If the needle drifted toward the 75 mark, a slight increase in the backpressure would ease the needle back down.
In only a few seconds the Altitude passed 500ft. As the Airfield was more or less at 0 feet altitude, this was the point in the circuit pattern where the aircraft was permitted to turn.
Keeping up the balancing act with the pitch and speed, Terrance then turned the yoke to the left; setting up a bank between the first and second notches on the artificial horizon, while also keeping a good look out the window. The aircraft turned smoothly in response to the inputs and he added just a little rudder to keep the turn coordinated and smooth. Continuing the turning climb until, glancing over his left shoulder he estimated his position to be climbing away at a 90-degree angle from the runway. Surprised to find the aircraft at the circuit height of 1000ft so soon, Terrance overshot his altitude by almost 100ft, reducing the throttle, which because of the increase in speed during the climb was now sitting at about 2600rpm, down to a reading of 2400rpm and set about stabilizing the aircraft into a slight descent to recapture 1000ft. It wasn’t long before the turn onto base leg was to come up, so Terrance looked intently for the other Cessna.
During the climb, Terry also noted another aircraft call inbound. Not in the pattern, this was an aircraft arriving to Payne field from somewhere else. Now as he looked for the other Cessna, and stabilized his aircraft into a thirty-degree bank turn to final.
The pilot of the other Cessna in the pattern came on the radio.
“…ssna Eight Hotel Golf downwind for Touch and go”
Terrance steered the aircraft out of the turn, being careful not to let it balloon out as he leveled the wings. He pushed the trim wheel down a few rotations to ease the pressure the elevators where giving on the yoke, and double checked his spacing with the runway, and altitude while the controller dealt with the other aircraft.
Terrance keyed the radio once there was a space to talk, and, after a small hesitation, declared himself on downwind for a full stop. Feeling a little heady for a moment as the controller stated the obvious that he was number two in the sequence, and to continue approach for runway one one left.
The turn to base and beginning of descent was always the most difficult part of the pattern to fly, requiring good judgment. Landing an aircraft was no easy task. After nearly 20 hours of flying, much of that in the pattern, Terrance was still no expert at it, but knew enough to not kill himself. He felt he was probably good enough to not even make a fool of himself in front of, not only the instructor, but also the Parents and girlfriend.
Mel had been new to Highschool, arriving only in year 11. Her parents had gotten jobs in Seattle, though it was likely not a permanent thing. They still owned their house in San Francisco, California. Terrance had somehow managed to befriend her almost right away. She was a quiet girl in her own way. Also pretty, though some didn’t think especially so, some skin issues, but not especially bad. Terrance was planning on taking her to the Prom at the end of the school year. It was quite amazing how fast things had progressed from first meeting, to dating to the point of bringing her out to watch his first solo with the parents, but it was a good thing. She was however, only a fleeting thought, lasting only a moment. Instead replaced with procedure, although a quick glance out to the horizon, a glistening, beckoning horizon, made Terrance feel at once awed and humbled. King and servant at once.
“Fifteen hundred revs” he spoke aloud as he smoothly banked the aircraft into the turn to Base. Holding the altitude as the aircraft slowed down to 90 knots. “Flap ten”. Moving the switch to place the flaps to their ten-degree down position, Terrance relaxed the backpressure letting the aircraft begin descending. The Cessna in front was just about touched down on the runway, looking small and insignificant in the distance. The parents and car at the threshold fence were not even noticeable at all. Terrance kept a close watch on his progress, noticing a twin engined aircraft just a little lower, and a touch to the right heading more or less right at him and his aircraft. Noticing his profile getting a little high, Terrance opened more flap to steepen his descent angle. “Flap twenty” he noted, and just for extra measure, pulled some power off to steepen the descent even more, while pegging the airspeed at 70 knots.
Mentally preparing to turn to finals and loose the five knots to get to finals speed at the same time, Terrance heard the Controller give him the clearance to land and vacate to the left side.
“Twenty Eight Alpha Charlie cleared to land one one left vacate to the Left”
The controller then cleared the twin baron to land on one one Right as Terrence began his finals checks. “Ok, Breaks released, Undercarriage, Mixture full rich, Fuel set to both…” he said aloud to himself, realizing he had not said his before landing checklist while on the downwind leg, and continued on “Three hundred feet, tower no light gun, runway is clear, cleared to land and Carby heat off”. As Terry said the items out loud his eyes went to each control which related to the items, and placed his hand on them in the well-rehearsed ritual of the memorized checklist items, maintaining his left hand on the yoke and the aircraft flying the correct profile. The turn to finals complete, and speed reduced to 65 knots, Terrance lowered the flaps to the landing setting of thirty degrees, and, adjusting the throttle a little, concentrated all his effort on getting the aircraft on the runway. Eyes darting from instrument to out the window, to instrument again, the picture seemed to slide right into the correct position, The aircraft was crabbing just a little, so Terrance waited till about the flare height, and reducing the throttle to Idle, added a little rudder with his feet, and a little movement of aileron to counter, holding the aircraft flat, and at the same time pulling the nose up just a touch, nice and smoothly.
The only thing announcing his touchdown were the two, quiet skid like sounds, one just a fraction of a second ahead of the other, of the rubber tires contacting the runway. Terrance smiled to himself as he realized he had just accomplished is first solo flight. Not only that but it had been the best landing he had yet achieved. A true “Greaser” as they said. Elated and smiling, proud of his achievement and still enjoying the glow of the moment, Terrance turned off the runway and called the tower “Two Eight Alpha Charlie clear of runway left”. And with that his first ever flight as "Pilot in Command" was over.
Last edited by jenat-lai on 2004-07-03 07:18am, edited 4 times in total.
_________________
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
edited.
_________________
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
-
Shroom Man 777
- FUCKING DICK-STABBER!
- Posts: 21222
- Joined: 2003-05-11 08:39am
- Location: Bleeding breasts and stabbing dicks since 2003
- Contact:
Nice. A little too much with the technical details, but nice. Be a little less detailed, except for the making-out scenes 
"DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN!
Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people
- PeZookShroom, I read out the stuff you write about us. You are an endless supply of morale down here. :p - an OWS street medic
Pink Sugar Heart Attack!
I wanted to make something a little different. My pet peeve is movies with technically incorrect atc language. Anyone would think all pilots go around saying "Roger" all day. In fact the term "Roger" is frowned apon in the real life, and only is used when the pilot doesn't need to use the information ATC just said, or has no idea what the hell the ATC just said, and can't be bothered getting him to repeat it. "Roger" means "Yes I heard that you addressed me and said something, I will continue doing whatever I was doing before you spoke to me and do nothing different, your speaking to me was a waste of time."
I have heard something like this exchange before.
"Dynasty 228, can you accept ammended flightplan via Corky and the Boree 2 arrival?"
"aaah, Dynasty 228 Roger"
"Dynasty 228 was that a Yes or No? Can you or can you not accept the Boree 2 arrival tonight?"
"Roger"
(Translated)
"Dynasty 228 I need to change your arrival flightplan. can you go via this route? (you can say yes or no)"
"aaah, Dynasty 228 heard you call us but has no idea what your trying to say, but are too imbarrised to say so"
"I asked you for a yes or no, not a "Roger". *repeats instruction*"
"I can't speak english"
That said, the next chapter doesn't even have a cockpit scene, and takes place about 18 years later, so the feeling should be quite different. That was just a "Here is what flying a small plane is like" chapter. There will also be a lot of personal history skipped over (ie half of the guys life) and either only inferred during the rest of the story, or perhaps plotted out a little as we go on. In Chapter 1, Terrance is 18, in Chapter 2 he is 36/37.
I have heard something like this exchange before.
"Dynasty 228, can you accept ammended flightplan via Corky and the Boree 2 arrival?"
"aaah, Dynasty 228 Roger"
"Dynasty 228 was that a Yes or No? Can you or can you not accept the Boree 2 arrival tonight?"
"Roger"
(Translated)
"Dynasty 228 I need to change your arrival flightplan. can you go via this route? (you can say yes or no)"
"aaah, Dynasty 228 heard you call us but has no idea what your trying to say, but are too imbarrised to say so"
"I asked you for a yes or no, not a "Roger". *repeats instruction*"
"I can't speak english"
That said, the next chapter doesn't even have a cockpit scene, and takes place about 18 years later, so the feeling should be quite different. That was just a "Here is what flying a small plane is like" chapter. There will also be a lot of personal history skipped over (ie half of the guys life) and either only inferred during the rest of the story, or perhaps plotted out a little as we go on. In Chapter 1, Terrance is 18, in Chapter 2 he is 36/37.
_________________
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
Official SD.net Simmer and Appreciator of Aircraft and Spacecraft.
Prolific vatsim pilot. See theOfficial Vatsim ATC and multiplayer traffic display
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Shroom Man 777
- FUCKING DICK-STABBER!
- Posts: 21222
- Joined: 2003-05-11 08:39am
- Location: Bleeding breasts and stabbing dicks since 2003
- Contact:
Ah. And I guess you learn something new everyday. When we chat, I'll keep on saying Roger to piss you off =P
Now work *cracks whip* and read my fic.
Now work *cracks whip* and read my fic.
"DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN!
Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people
- PeZookShroom, I read out the stuff you write about us. You are an endless supply of morale down here. :p - an OWS street medic
Pink Sugar Heart Attack!
-
Sarevok
- The Fearless One
- Posts: 10681
- Joined: 2002-12-24 07:29am
- Location: The Covenants last and final line of defense
Jenat wanted me to post this for him.
Chapter 2: Skyboys
Twenty Years Later:
Terrance awoke slowly, listening to the buzzer of his alarm go off for at least twenty seconds before venturing his arm out of the warmth of the covers to turn it off. It was indeed chilly out of the covers, and Terrance considered pulling his hand back into the warmth of the bed for a moment. With a little hesitation he decided against it and pulled the covers back and sat up slowly. Yawning widely he felt the cold air soak his clothes and shivered a little. Momentarily looking longingly back to the soft, pulled back covers of the hotel bed, Terrance stood up and put on a jumper, which seemed not to cure the coldness much at all. Feeling tired still, he sat on the edge of the bed, as he pulled back the window coverings to let the feeble morning light filter into the room.
The day was overcast, which was no surprise for London, even in the summer. Terrance stared out the window for a moment, taking in the dingy sight of the view out the window, a small hotel not far out of London’s second airport, Gatwick. He had flown here to London the previous day as the Captain of Sun Air 22, a regular service for Sun Air which was, beyond it’s small regular holiday summer services, and freight services, a Charter company. The aircraft was the Airbus A330-300, although the aircraft they had flown here was most likely on the ground in Oakland California, Sun Air’s hub and maintenance base, and the Aircraft he and his crew were to fly back to Oakland on was currently likely still hundreds of miles from shore, out in the Atlantic Ocean at 37,000ft.
Terrance sighed, knowing that the inbound aircraft was due to touch down in about three hours. By that time they would have done all their flightplanning and weather briefs and would be waiting at the gate with luggage and charts in hand, to board and prepare the aircraft for departure. With that thought, he hefted himself off the bed and made his way to the small bathroom, turning on the fan and light. The extractor fan started whirring away like a mini aircraft, a small electric motor, poorly tuned however. Terrance ignored it and, pulling back the sleeve of his jumper and pajamas, turned the hot water on in the shower while kicking the door to the bathroom shut. It was only after the foggy mist of steam billowed from the shower and filled the room in a glazy gray did Terrance take any clothes off to shower. The removal of pants was first, both the pajamas and underwear in one swipe, followed by the top in a similar fashion, pajama top and jumper being discarded as if one garment. Quickly testing the temperature with his right hand and finding it right, Terrance was in the shower within five seconds of his clothes being removed. The feeling of the water running through his hair, down his whole body length was as warm, and comfortable as being in bed itself was. Terrance closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, remembering that his watch had an alarm set for quarter-past six also. He decided not to look at the watch to see how much, or little time of this pleasure he had left, even though the curiosity nearly made him open one eye. He decided to push down that tension and consciously fought against the desire to open his eyes and look at the watch on his wrist. Well for a few seconds anyway. At that moment he decided to remove the watch, and now that his eyes were open anyway he stole a look.
06:11 and 23 seconds. He smiled to himself as he put the watch on the shelf on the other side of the curtain, water spilling off his wet arm onto the cold tile floor. He flinched at the cold draft outside the shower curtain, and retreated back to the safety of the warm water, eyeing the bottle of shampoo and soap. In a rush he pulled open the bottle and lathered the lotion into his hair quickly and grabbed the soap to clean up the basics. It was all too soon when he heard, to his dismay, his watch alarm going off again. Washing all the suds off his body and out of his hair, Terrance shut off the water, almost instantaneously becoming aware of the ludicrous coldness of the surrounding air.
He dried himself off as quickly as he could, enough to stop dripping at least, and with that opened the door to the bedroom, walking barefoot on the carpet putting his underwear on as he hobbled out to put his uniform on.
The light outside was beginning to brighten, though it was still dampened by the gray dank drizzle that soaked the atmosphere like a fog as Terrance pulled his uniform on, fast, but carefully. His mildly wet hair was still irritating him after he finished securing his shoes and so he grabbed the towel and rigorously pummeled his hair to get it as dry as he could. After quickly combing his hair Terrance threw his few belongings into his suitcase and, adjusting his tie, sprung out of the hotel door into the hallway.
It was not a long walk to the elevator lobby, and so Terrance, wheeling his suitcase behind him, walked slowly to conserve energy, fighting the tiredness as he yawned in the early morning. He looked ahead expectantly, knowing that his friend John would also be arriving in the lobby soon. Glancing at his watch he pressed the elevator button. The doors sprung open right away with a clatter, surprising Terrance. Hesitating for a moment, he stepped into the Elevator and pressed the button to take the elevator to the ground floor lobby, where he would check out and meet up with John. The motion of the Elevator was noticeable, making Terrance feel slightly lightheaded. He shook his head and yawned intently. “Motion forces are not at all pleasant this early in the day,” he thought to himself. He checked his watch again; curious to what time it was at home in California. 06:28 on the clock for London. It would be along the lines of half past midnight at home. He smiled curiously as he thought of the irony of how easily the body was tricked into adjusting for time. Well twenty years of training the body to do so had made it almost second nature. Almost, although not always so willing at times. The East bound flights always seemed easier to adjust to the time, compared to westbound. It was probably because the day itself became physically shorter eastbound, but on a flight such as today’s, Europe to America, especially the American west coast, the day seemed to drag on forever. Seeing the sun for 18 hours straight was not particularly conducive to good sleep patterns.
The Door of the lift sprung open, revealing the somewhat too-warm heated early morning lobby. Terrance flinched a little. There was nothing quite like the Europeans love affair with heating. And sweating on a cold dreary rainy day was not what Terrance had in mind as fun. The Feeling was odd, and was only worse early in the morning, the sudden infusion of heat onto the skin, causing it to develop a sticky, unclean feeling, and yet the core temperature was still cold. Somewhere deep down in the muscle, blood and flesh, cold, while the surface boiled, all adding to the discomfort of early morning. Terrance found the cold to be the lesser discomfort of the two options. At least with cold you could rug up; pull a beanie over your ears and put gloves on, and a good warm jacket. The Pilots formal uniform, with blue heavy blazer, complete with gold wings clipped on the pocket lapel, afforded enough warmth at least for the English summer’s early morning, even one as dreary as this. A trench coat was preferred during the winter months. But as it was, with the hot air assaulting him from all directions, even the unbuttoned blazer and loosened tie was more than enough to cause mild sweating on the brow as Terrance stepped out of the lift, suitcase wheeling behind him, into the lobby.
The Taxi was due in about fifteen minutes, plenty of time to get overly warm before venturing out into the, what would be at first, relieving cold. But knowing how his body reacted he also knew not to overdo that either. The sudden change from hot to cold was exceptionally unnatural. Although there was an interesting feeling of relief in basking in the cold after being over-cooked by central heating, and then, like the contrast of a symphony of temperatures, or some higher paradox, relief again to thaw out in the abundant heat of a building after being frozen by the weather’s all-pervading cold. It was just a matter of keeping the times right so as not to be so hot to start sweating profusely, and not cold enough to start shivering. Of course once sat in the captain’s seat of the A330 at Sunair, Terrance would have complete control over even temperature. If only the hotel owners would set the temperature of their rooms at a leisurely 23-Celsius, instead of subjecting their patrons to the untamed abandon of a heating system at full throttle.
Terrance noted the four lift doors, all neatly in a row, stretching his neck sideways for a moment, considering rubbing it. He always seemed to get a sore neck after waking up earlier than his body rhythm wanted. It would persist until a good measure of sleep rested him. Although he usually found he could sleep on layovers, some part of him still believed it was half past midnight, rather than half past six. The lift door opened and a few flight attendants made their collective way toward the checkout, some eyeing Terrance on their way, but the majority of the group ignoring him. Beyond the glamour and legends of Pilots and Flight attendants, Terrance had always found that Flight attendants rarely connected with the pilots, or at least him. Certainly the sleazy ‘mile high club’ jokes had never had any real life counterpart in his experience of 20 plus years in the airline industry, although his being married may have had something to do with that. He supposed that maybe the ‘married pilots club’ which he felt comfortable around maybe had a different kind of vibe to it than perhaps the ‘single pilots club’ of the second officers and training pilots, although from his observations, even the younger, unmarried pilots never seemed to be a living incarnation of the legends. Perhaps it was just the fact that layovers were only just enough time to catch up on enough sleep to be functional for the next journey, Certainly not enough time to get enough sleep as well as experiencing more… carnal pleasures. As far as Terrance was concerned, just keeping himself in good enough shape to stay awake throughout the flights without undue pain was the goal of having a room with a bed. Terrance allowed his eye to follow a rather shorter, unassuming girl… well unassuming apart from her dark red hair, darker and wetter. It struck Terrance that every redhead girl he knew always seemed to have wet hair in the morning. Weather it was just harder to dry, or maybe that redheads left the time from wakeup to call too short on more frequent occasions, or if they spent more time living the legend than the average woman of more common hair, however this particular specimen seemed to exude innocence and youth in an almost tangible torrent. Terrance thought “Princess” or perhaps some long-abandoned fantasy of young innocent love, rather than anything more adult in nature. Perhaps this was some of the allure of redheads in general, at least for him. It was also the mystery. Why is it that the most exquisite of redheaded beauties were always so quiet, almost out of touch with the world around them, or perhaps it was the world around them, which was out of touch with them?
Terrance quickly averted his eyes away as the redheaded flight attendant turned to look at him, and in that instant, by perhaps the fortune of the gods, or good karma, he noted John strolling casually towards him, Pilots apparel adorned and similarly trailing his suitcase on wheels.
“Yo!” shouted John, in a low baritone.
Terrance smiled a greeting to his friend as he walked toward him.
”How is it I am again the first one ready? Tell me that” Terrance teased.
“Aaah suddup already” John jousted back before both men laughed boyishly.
John lowered his voice to keep the group of flight attendants out of earshot.
”It’s not such a question of how, but why though.” John winked cheekily, while suggesting the direction of the women.
Terrance chuckled a little as John continued his jesting, “So you find out her name?”
Terrance looked innocent.
“I know you and your redheads Terry” John chuckled, while Terrance rolled his eyes. John prodded further “Naw, I saw you looking”.
Terrance acted offended “She looks about half my age man” he commented “And besides, I’ve already got Kendall to keep me company.”
John tired of the banter and decided to bring things back to seriousness, knowing that his friend had been having problems with his wife over the past couple of years. Things had been going tough with them. Ever since Terrance lost his job at United airlines. Although they both knew they were lucky to have this job, post September eleven and all, the sudden change in the industry dynamic had forced many pilots, John and Terrance included to go searching for acceptable work. Leaving United, both John and Terrance had managed to get a hold of this job with Sunair. However on a significantly reduced salary, and because of the difference in company styles, the two men found themselves working as almost exclusively long haul pilots, spending as many as four nights a week away from home, and instead, on layovers in foreign countries. The change in lifestyle was not their choice, and although John and his wife Delphine had taken the punches as they had come and were dealing with their new lifestyle quite amicably, Terrance and his wife Kendall were dealing with the hardships a little less well. Indeed the troubles between Terrance and his wife seemed to go back even before September Eleven 2001 and United Airlines filing for Chapter Eleven Bankrupsy protection the following year.
John and Terrance stood together in silence for a moment before almost as one said, “Time to check out I suppose”. The two nodded in agreement, and in unison, strolled toward the counter. The last of the checking-out Flight attendants was just gathering her things as John and Terrance strolled casually to the desk. Glancing at his watch Terrance noted there was about five minutes till the taxies were expected to arrive to pick up the crew to go to the airport. Although there were to be three crewmembers on this flight, only him and John had overnighted at the hotel. Checking out, Terrance, with sweat beads now starting to form on the back of his neck, decided to reverse climates, and so stepped outside, John following gingerly behind. The morning was foggy as the sun continued to creep around behind its veil of clouds, somewhere indistinctive. The cool air felt good, almost like stepping into an air-conditioned building in Arizona or Vegas. The refreshing feel of body surface temperature being relieved was comforting. It also seemed to make Terrance feel more, alive… awake…
“Cold out here this morning” commented John, nonchantly.
Terrance smiled to himself a moment as he reveled in the feeling of cooling himself off, before replying “And hot in there. Almost like Air Conditioning in reverse”.
John just chuckled in reply as he casually glanced at his watch.
“Hmm, shouldn’t be long now” he observed.
The taxicabs were typical of London, the black, large vehicles pulling up together one after the other. It was unusual for them to be convoyed so neatly as today, often the cabs would arrive sporadically, leaving small groups of air employees seemingly stranded as their colleagues set off toward the airport.
The Taxi Drivers stood beside their parked vehicles and the first in line shouted loudly “American Airlines Flight 25 Employees for Gatwick!?” John and Terrance looked at each other for a moment and ignored the rush of female forms converging on the lead cab, and instead strolled toward the rear cab.
The driver opened the window as they approached.
”Sunair Flight crew to Gatwick?” prompted John.
The Driver nodded yes, and exited his vehicle to open the trunk. Stowing their suitcases quickly, Terrance and John entered the vehicle, both sitting on opposite sides of the large back seat as the driver closed the door, hesitating for a moment.
”Feel Free to cue jump” suggested John, as he noted the four American Airlines flight attendants in the second car still figuring out how to stow all their luggage into the small space of their taxi cab. The Driver chuckled and eased the car forward, turning onto the road proper.
”Bit Wet out today” The driver commented, seemingly trying to create a conversation. His accent was an odd mix of French and Cockney English. Like some strange oddity that only aviation should be able to create.
”Indeed” responded John, while Terrance remained quiet, considering himself and his tiredness. The conversation between John and the Taxicab driver continued as Terrance felt unfocused. The drabble of sounds of the road, conversation and the windscreen wipers all melding into one indistinctive babble of mixed-up sounds. Terrance closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if he would be able to find a coke machine to dispense caffinated beverages for him before flightplanning.
Terrance had never really gotten on with Coffee. And had given up trying after only three attempts at drinking the stuff. Although many pilots swore by the stuff, Terrance much preferred a good old coke-a-cola any day. As much as it would likely have been far healthier to be able to wake up naturally, the realities of flitting around the globe at over one-eighth the speed of sound demanded it. If the use of caffeine to awaken the senses and push back the grogginess of tiredness wasn’t natural, then it was certainly less unnatural than the daily commute at over five hundred miles an hour. At any rate, drug induced alertness was more desirable than trying to command two hundred tones of airliner in such a drowsy state.
The drive to Gatwick Airport wasn’t too long… part of the reason for staying at this particular hotel most likely, not that the pilots and crew themselves had any choice in the matter. The company chose the hotel their crews collectively stayed in, and that was that. The drive from the hotel to the airport was, however, not significantly short, certainly not walking distance. A fifteen minute journey at the best of times, the morning peak hour extended that time by nearly double. Due to Terrance’s latent tiredness however it seemed that it wasn’t long before the taxi was pulling up near the terminal building at Gatwick, the early morning heaviness about the eyes still badgering him to no end as they pulled up to the staff and crew entrance. Terrance had been ignoring his watch for the entirety of the trip, letting, instead, his eyes rest shut, the last opportunity for rest before hefting skyward in a few hours time. However there was much work to be done before that came around. As the cab stopped, Terrance hopped out, grabbing his small suitcase and waiting as John fixed the driver with his dues. Again, a company issue card would insure that the driver was given his fare, and that they wouldn’t have to pay to come to work. All monetary issues completed, John and Terrance started toward the terminal building, where the would spend the next few hours before the departure of their flight. If all was going to plan, the inbound aircraft would be just starting it’s descent into London Gatwick right about now, giving them enough time to receive the flight plan and briefing before heading out to the aircraft to turn it around back to The States.
[/quote]
Chapter 2: Skyboys
Twenty Years Later:
Terrance awoke slowly, listening to the buzzer of his alarm go off for at least twenty seconds before venturing his arm out of the warmth of the covers to turn it off. It was indeed chilly out of the covers, and Terrance considered pulling his hand back into the warmth of the bed for a moment. With a little hesitation he decided against it and pulled the covers back and sat up slowly. Yawning widely he felt the cold air soak his clothes and shivered a little. Momentarily looking longingly back to the soft, pulled back covers of the hotel bed, Terrance stood up and put on a jumper, which seemed not to cure the coldness much at all. Feeling tired still, he sat on the edge of the bed, as he pulled back the window coverings to let the feeble morning light filter into the room.
The day was overcast, which was no surprise for London, even in the summer. Terrance stared out the window for a moment, taking in the dingy sight of the view out the window, a small hotel not far out of London’s second airport, Gatwick. He had flown here to London the previous day as the Captain of Sun Air 22, a regular service for Sun Air which was, beyond it’s small regular holiday summer services, and freight services, a Charter company. The aircraft was the Airbus A330-300, although the aircraft they had flown here was most likely on the ground in Oakland California, Sun Air’s hub and maintenance base, and the Aircraft he and his crew were to fly back to Oakland on was currently likely still hundreds of miles from shore, out in the Atlantic Ocean at 37,000ft.
Terrance sighed, knowing that the inbound aircraft was due to touch down in about three hours. By that time they would have done all their flightplanning and weather briefs and would be waiting at the gate with luggage and charts in hand, to board and prepare the aircraft for departure. With that thought, he hefted himself off the bed and made his way to the small bathroom, turning on the fan and light. The extractor fan started whirring away like a mini aircraft, a small electric motor, poorly tuned however. Terrance ignored it and, pulling back the sleeve of his jumper and pajamas, turned the hot water on in the shower while kicking the door to the bathroom shut. It was only after the foggy mist of steam billowed from the shower and filled the room in a glazy gray did Terrance take any clothes off to shower. The removal of pants was first, both the pajamas and underwear in one swipe, followed by the top in a similar fashion, pajama top and jumper being discarded as if one garment. Quickly testing the temperature with his right hand and finding it right, Terrance was in the shower within five seconds of his clothes being removed. The feeling of the water running through his hair, down his whole body length was as warm, and comfortable as being in bed itself was. Terrance closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, remembering that his watch had an alarm set for quarter-past six also. He decided not to look at the watch to see how much, or little time of this pleasure he had left, even though the curiosity nearly made him open one eye. He decided to push down that tension and consciously fought against the desire to open his eyes and look at the watch on his wrist. Well for a few seconds anyway. At that moment he decided to remove the watch, and now that his eyes were open anyway he stole a look.
06:11 and 23 seconds. He smiled to himself as he put the watch on the shelf on the other side of the curtain, water spilling off his wet arm onto the cold tile floor. He flinched at the cold draft outside the shower curtain, and retreated back to the safety of the warm water, eyeing the bottle of shampoo and soap. In a rush he pulled open the bottle and lathered the lotion into his hair quickly and grabbed the soap to clean up the basics. It was all too soon when he heard, to his dismay, his watch alarm going off again. Washing all the suds off his body and out of his hair, Terrance shut off the water, almost instantaneously becoming aware of the ludicrous coldness of the surrounding air.
He dried himself off as quickly as he could, enough to stop dripping at least, and with that opened the door to the bedroom, walking barefoot on the carpet putting his underwear on as he hobbled out to put his uniform on.
The light outside was beginning to brighten, though it was still dampened by the gray dank drizzle that soaked the atmosphere like a fog as Terrance pulled his uniform on, fast, but carefully. His mildly wet hair was still irritating him after he finished securing his shoes and so he grabbed the towel and rigorously pummeled his hair to get it as dry as he could. After quickly combing his hair Terrance threw his few belongings into his suitcase and, adjusting his tie, sprung out of the hotel door into the hallway.
It was not a long walk to the elevator lobby, and so Terrance, wheeling his suitcase behind him, walked slowly to conserve energy, fighting the tiredness as he yawned in the early morning. He looked ahead expectantly, knowing that his friend John would also be arriving in the lobby soon. Glancing at his watch he pressed the elevator button. The doors sprung open right away with a clatter, surprising Terrance. Hesitating for a moment, he stepped into the Elevator and pressed the button to take the elevator to the ground floor lobby, where he would check out and meet up with John. The motion of the Elevator was noticeable, making Terrance feel slightly lightheaded. He shook his head and yawned intently. “Motion forces are not at all pleasant this early in the day,” he thought to himself. He checked his watch again; curious to what time it was at home in California. 06:28 on the clock for London. It would be along the lines of half past midnight at home. He smiled curiously as he thought of the irony of how easily the body was tricked into adjusting for time. Well twenty years of training the body to do so had made it almost second nature. Almost, although not always so willing at times. The East bound flights always seemed easier to adjust to the time, compared to westbound. It was probably because the day itself became physically shorter eastbound, but on a flight such as today’s, Europe to America, especially the American west coast, the day seemed to drag on forever. Seeing the sun for 18 hours straight was not particularly conducive to good sleep patterns.
The Door of the lift sprung open, revealing the somewhat too-warm heated early morning lobby. Terrance flinched a little. There was nothing quite like the Europeans love affair with heating. And sweating on a cold dreary rainy day was not what Terrance had in mind as fun. The Feeling was odd, and was only worse early in the morning, the sudden infusion of heat onto the skin, causing it to develop a sticky, unclean feeling, and yet the core temperature was still cold. Somewhere deep down in the muscle, blood and flesh, cold, while the surface boiled, all adding to the discomfort of early morning. Terrance found the cold to be the lesser discomfort of the two options. At least with cold you could rug up; pull a beanie over your ears and put gloves on, and a good warm jacket. The Pilots formal uniform, with blue heavy blazer, complete with gold wings clipped on the pocket lapel, afforded enough warmth at least for the English summer’s early morning, even one as dreary as this. A trench coat was preferred during the winter months. But as it was, with the hot air assaulting him from all directions, even the unbuttoned blazer and loosened tie was more than enough to cause mild sweating on the brow as Terrance stepped out of the lift, suitcase wheeling behind him, into the lobby.
The Taxi was due in about fifteen minutes, plenty of time to get overly warm before venturing out into the, what would be at first, relieving cold. But knowing how his body reacted he also knew not to overdo that either. The sudden change from hot to cold was exceptionally unnatural. Although there was an interesting feeling of relief in basking in the cold after being over-cooked by central heating, and then, like the contrast of a symphony of temperatures, or some higher paradox, relief again to thaw out in the abundant heat of a building after being frozen by the weather’s all-pervading cold. It was just a matter of keeping the times right so as not to be so hot to start sweating profusely, and not cold enough to start shivering. Of course once sat in the captain’s seat of the A330 at Sunair, Terrance would have complete control over even temperature. If only the hotel owners would set the temperature of their rooms at a leisurely 23-Celsius, instead of subjecting their patrons to the untamed abandon of a heating system at full throttle.
Terrance noted the four lift doors, all neatly in a row, stretching his neck sideways for a moment, considering rubbing it. He always seemed to get a sore neck after waking up earlier than his body rhythm wanted. It would persist until a good measure of sleep rested him. Although he usually found he could sleep on layovers, some part of him still believed it was half past midnight, rather than half past six. The lift door opened and a few flight attendants made their collective way toward the checkout, some eyeing Terrance on their way, but the majority of the group ignoring him. Beyond the glamour and legends of Pilots and Flight attendants, Terrance had always found that Flight attendants rarely connected with the pilots, or at least him. Certainly the sleazy ‘mile high club’ jokes had never had any real life counterpart in his experience of 20 plus years in the airline industry, although his being married may have had something to do with that. He supposed that maybe the ‘married pilots club’ which he felt comfortable around maybe had a different kind of vibe to it than perhaps the ‘single pilots club’ of the second officers and training pilots, although from his observations, even the younger, unmarried pilots never seemed to be a living incarnation of the legends. Perhaps it was just the fact that layovers were only just enough time to catch up on enough sleep to be functional for the next journey, Certainly not enough time to get enough sleep as well as experiencing more… carnal pleasures. As far as Terrance was concerned, just keeping himself in good enough shape to stay awake throughout the flights without undue pain was the goal of having a room with a bed. Terrance allowed his eye to follow a rather shorter, unassuming girl… well unassuming apart from her dark red hair, darker and wetter. It struck Terrance that every redhead girl he knew always seemed to have wet hair in the morning. Weather it was just harder to dry, or maybe that redheads left the time from wakeup to call too short on more frequent occasions, or if they spent more time living the legend than the average woman of more common hair, however this particular specimen seemed to exude innocence and youth in an almost tangible torrent. Terrance thought “Princess” or perhaps some long-abandoned fantasy of young innocent love, rather than anything more adult in nature. Perhaps this was some of the allure of redheads in general, at least for him. It was also the mystery. Why is it that the most exquisite of redheaded beauties were always so quiet, almost out of touch with the world around them, or perhaps it was the world around them, which was out of touch with them?
Terrance quickly averted his eyes away as the redheaded flight attendant turned to look at him, and in that instant, by perhaps the fortune of the gods, or good karma, he noted John strolling casually towards him, Pilots apparel adorned and similarly trailing his suitcase on wheels.
“Yo!” shouted John, in a low baritone.
Terrance smiled a greeting to his friend as he walked toward him.
”How is it I am again the first one ready? Tell me that” Terrance teased.
“Aaah suddup already” John jousted back before both men laughed boyishly.
John lowered his voice to keep the group of flight attendants out of earshot.
”It’s not such a question of how, but why though.” John winked cheekily, while suggesting the direction of the women.
Terrance chuckled a little as John continued his jesting, “So you find out her name?”
Terrance looked innocent.
“I know you and your redheads Terry” John chuckled, while Terrance rolled his eyes. John prodded further “Naw, I saw you looking”.
Terrance acted offended “She looks about half my age man” he commented “And besides, I’ve already got Kendall to keep me company.”
John tired of the banter and decided to bring things back to seriousness, knowing that his friend had been having problems with his wife over the past couple of years. Things had been going tough with them. Ever since Terrance lost his job at United airlines. Although they both knew they were lucky to have this job, post September eleven and all, the sudden change in the industry dynamic had forced many pilots, John and Terrance included to go searching for acceptable work. Leaving United, both John and Terrance had managed to get a hold of this job with Sunair. However on a significantly reduced salary, and because of the difference in company styles, the two men found themselves working as almost exclusively long haul pilots, spending as many as four nights a week away from home, and instead, on layovers in foreign countries. The change in lifestyle was not their choice, and although John and his wife Delphine had taken the punches as they had come and were dealing with their new lifestyle quite amicably, Terrance and his wife Kendall were dealing with the hardships a little less well. Indeed the troubles between Terrance and his wife seemed to go back even before September Eleven 2001 and United Airlines filing for Chapter Eleven Bankrupsy protection the following year.
John and Terrance stood together in silence for a moment before almost as one said, “Time to check out I suppose”. The two nodded in agreement, and in unison, strolled toward the counter. The last of the checking-out Flight attendants was just gathering her things as John and Terrance strolled casually to the desk. Glancing at his watch Terrance noted there was about five minutes till the taxies were expected to arrive to pick up the crew to go to the airport. Although there were to be three crewmembers on this flight, only him and John had overnighted at the hotel. Checking out, Terrance, with sweat beads now starting to form on the back of his neck, decided to reverse climates, and so stepped outside, John following gingerly behind. The morning was foggy as the sun continued to creep around behind its veil of clouds, somewhere indistinctive. The cool air felt good, almost like stepping into an air-conditioned building in Arizona or Vegas. The refreshing feel of body surface temperature being relieved was comforting. It also seemed to make Terrance feel more, alive… awake…
“Cold out here this morning” commented John, nonchantly.
Terrance smiled to himself a moment as he reveled in the feeling of cooling himself off, before replying “And hot in there. Almost like Air Conditioning in reverse”.
John just chuckled in reply as he casually glanced at his watch.
“Hmm, shouldn’t be long now” he observed.
The taxicabs were typical of London, the black, large vehicles pulling up together one after the other. It was unusual for them to be convoyed so neatly as today, often the cabs would arrive sporadically, leaving small groups of air employees seemingly stranded as their colleagues set off toward the airport.
The Taxi Drivers stood beside their parked vehicles and the first in line shouted loudly “American Airlines Flight 25 Employees for Gatwick!?” John and Terrance looked at each other for a moment and ignored the rush of female forms converging on the lead cab, and instead strolled toward the rear cab.
The driver opened the window as they approached.
”Sunair Flight crew to Gatwick?” prompted John.
The Driver nodded yes, and exited his vehicle to open the trunk. Stowing their suitcases quickly, Terrance and John entered the vehicle, both sitting on opposite sides of the large back seat as the driver closed the door, hesitating for a moment.
”Feel Free to cue jump” suggested John, as he noted the four American Airlines flight attendants in the second car still figuring out how to stow all their luggage into the small space of their taxi cab. The Driver chuckled and eased the car forward, turning onto the road proper.
”Bit Wet out today” The driver commented, seemingly trying to create a conversation. His accent was an odd mix of French and Cockney English. Like some strange oddity that only aviation should be able to create.
”Indeed” responded John, while Terrance remained quiet, considering himself and his tiredness. The conversation between John and the Taxicab driver continued as Terrance felt unfocused. The drabble of sounds of the road, conversation and the windscreen wipers all melding into one indistinctive babble of mixed-up sounds. Terrance closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if he would be able to find a coke machine to dispense caffinated beverages for him before flightplanning.
Terrance had never really gotten on with Coffee. And had given up trying after only three attempts at drinking the stuff. Although many pilots swore by the stuff, Terrance much preferred a good old coke-a-cola any day. As much as it would likely have been far healthier to be able to wake up naturally, the realities of flitting around the globe at over one-eighth the speed of sound demanded it. If the use of caffeine to awaken the senses and push back the grogginess of tiredness wasn’t natural, then it was certainly less unnatural than the daily commute at over five hundred miles an hour. At any rate, drug induced alertness was more desirable than trying to command two hundred tones of airliner in such a drowsy state.
The drive to Gatwick Airport wasn’t too long… part of the reason for staying at this particular hotel most likely, not that the pilots and crew themselves had any choice in the matter. The company chose the hotel their crews collectively stayed in, and that was that. The drive from the hotel to the airport was, however, not significantly short, certainly not walking distance. A fifteen minute journey at the best of times, the morning peak hour extended that time by nearly double. Due to Terrance’s latent tiredness however it seemed that it wasn’t long before the taxi was pulling up near the terminal building at Gatwick, the early morning heaviness about the eyes still badgering him to no end as they pulled up to the staff and crew entrance. Terrance had been ignoring his watch for the entirety of the trip, letting, instead, his eyes rest shut, the last opportunity for rest before hefting skyward in a few hours time. However there was much work to be done before that came around. As the cab stopped, Terrance hopped out, grabbing his small suitcase and waiting as John fixed the driver with his dues. Again, a company issue card would insure that the driver was given his fare, and that they wouldn’t have to pay to come to work. All monetary issues completed, John and Terrance started toward the terminal building, where the would spend the next few hours before the departure of their flight. If all was going to plan, the inbound aircraft would be just starting it’s descent into London Gatwick right about now, giving them enough time to receive the flight plan and briefing before heading out to the aircraft to turn it around back to The States.
[/quote]
I have to tell you something everything I wrote above is a lie.