No longer an Airline Captain and I've Lost My Mojo

GolfHotelWhiskey.comAutopilotFromtheMovieAirplane I’ve been an airline Captain since 2001. With a recent airline change I’m a First Officer again. The copilot. Just like Kareem Abdul-Jabar… and the guy who sat next to Sully. I’m one step up from Otto the autopilot in Airplane. I should have made business cards that said “Cool Jet Captain” while I could. (Mental note - change my voicemail greeting from Jet Captain to Seat Filler.)

I’ve switched seats and I’ve lost my mojo. I don’t know where to put my pen. My right hand moves to push the buttons even though they're on my left side now. And damned if I can’t make passenger announcements anymore.

For years I’ve been saying the same thing to the people in the back.


“Folks, this is your Captain speaking. Blah blah blah. Weather is blah blah blah. There is going to be a few bumps on our climb out blah blah blah.”

But now I start in with “This is your….”

And I’m lost. Flatline.

My inner voice screams “LINE!”

But it’s just me. No cue cards. No teleprompter. Just me… your copilot.

And I think I’m pretty dexterous on my toes. I had a six grade teacher tell me I need to think before I speak. She didn’t mean it as a compliment.

I can’t think before I speak. It just happens. And without the normal cadence of “This is your Captain speaking.” I’ve got nothing. Flatline.

Oh, and you know those pilots that walk around the airport with their sunglasses on? You laugh at them on the inside because they think they’re so cool? Maybe they’re also new and have lost their mojo too?

I was on a dusk flight soon after I switched seats and titles and the sky was getting duskier on final approach. I even made a comment to the actual Captain about how dark this new cockpit I’ve found myself in was at night.

He agreed though surely he knew what the solution was.

And then I said something about the taxiway lights being an unusual hue.

And then I stood in the doorway and said goodbye to the passengers face to face. Eye contact.

And then I went up and got a cup coffee at Starbucks.

And then back in the cockpit I said something about how my phone screen suddenly had a reddish tint. “Maybe it’s reverted to some strange astronomer night mode?” I said.

That’s when the Captain commented on my rose colored sunglasses.

“I don’t know what to tell you Elton.”


Appropriate (and Inappropriate) Holiday Gifts for Your Flight Crew


It's the season for gift giving. That means it's also the season for scrambling to pay off your guilt by dishing out gifts to those who serve you and make your life easier… The trash collector, your postal worker, the Starbucks barista and of course, your flight crew. While there are many great and appropriate gifts to surprise your lowly flight crew with as you travel this holiday season there are also some inappropriate ones. You may think you're being cheeky and thoughtful if you present your crew with a nice holiday surprise as you board the plane but there is a chance you are wrong. Allow me to list some of the presents that make perfect gifts for us reindeer who are driving your holiday sled if you are heading out to the airport this Christmas. I will also give you a few that don't work no matter how cleverly wrapped they may be.

Great holiday gifts.

Single individual dollar bills.

In this line of work we are often in need of ones. We tip daily and are always asking for change. It's awkward giving a hundred to someone and asking for ninety nine bucks back. No no…. Not girls on a dance floor tipping. Each day we ride hotel vans back and forth to the airport and it is customary to tip the drivers for each leg of the journey. A gift of a few ones would go along way with your flight crew. No card needed. A great way to dispense of it would be to approach the cockpit and ask how the weather is going to be at the destination. While being told the answer throw up a handful of ones and yell out, “How about we make it rain!!!”

Hand sanitizer or disinfectant wipes.

Airplanes are disgusting. The humans leave a filthy trail behind them. We breath the same dirty air all day that swims through that trail. At altitude and closer to the Earths yellow sun, bacteria grow into absurdly stubborn living organisms that multiply way more than on the planet. And there are the coughers. Don't get me started on the coughers. If I had my way all passengers would be required to don their seatbelt and face mask before departure. Our only defense is a regular dose of gut cleaning airplane coffee and hand sanitizer. An excellent Christmas present would be some disinfectant wipes. Either throw it up to us or handle it with one of the wipes. Germs and an associated illness is a horrible gift.

Astronaut food.

While we don't always have easy access to ovens, hot plates or microwaves we do have a steady supply of hot water. Aside from all the obvious advances that have come from NASA over the years, Tang and dehydrated foods must be near the top of their works of genius. Pilots and flight attendants are hungry. Actually, we're not hungry. We're bored. We do the same thing every day. It's a well crafted routine that has been perfected with time. Same checklists. Same boarding announcements. Same meals... Airport pizza, fried rice or Cinnabon. That's all we have to chose from. A steaming hot dish of rehydrated NASA approved beef stroganoff at 37000 feet? Now that's living! You know why no one gets astronaut ice cream in their stocking on Christmas morning? Because Santa steals it at 37000 feet on the journey from the North Pole. That's not true. I made that up.

Coffee shop gift card.

The best bang for your buck? Pick up a gift card before you board your flight. A happy flight crew is a happy flight and nothing makes us happier than free coffee. Sure, you can argue that the caffeine makes us more alert and ready for anything. Maybe it makes us eager and willing to safely operate the airplane? But free coffee also makes us very happy. The weather could be horrible and the plane is broken and we may get stuck on the road but all the while we will look at each other and say, “How about that lady who gave us the free coffee? She was really nice.”

Okay, on to the inappropriate Christmas presents.

Non cockpit friendly foods.

Sure. You make some incredible chili this time of year. I bet it has the perfect amount of spice and is delicious. Aw... So thoughtful. You even brought crackers for us to crumble up and pour into the topped off flimsy Tupperware bowl you packed it in. It's gonna make a mess. We're gonna hit a bump and it's going to be everywhere. The cockpit floor is going to be covered in cracker crumbles and we're going to have chili on the controls. I can always tell where a plane has been by the finger print smears. “That kind of looks like Paella. Miami?”

Heavy things.

Our suitcases are already maxed out. I will smile and appreciate the oversized hand made holiday sweater but I have nowhere to put it. The best option will be for me to wear it but the problem with wearing non-airline approved garments in the airport is you don't get discounted gum and you get hassled by the credit card hawkers who think you are just another passenger. We don't really need that. It's nice and generous but not appropriate. Same with heavy hard bound books, flatware and home electronics.


If we carry anything through security they make us take a sip to prove that it's not a liquid bomb. Hard one to explain when you get pulled over on the taxiway. An nonalcoholic beer is not funny. An no eggnog either. Or those powdery cookies. Messy messy messy.

So this holiday season if you are traveling…. Keep your flight crews in mind. We are here to serve you and do so with a smile while secretly hoping for a gift.

If you're eating from a bucket of donut holes offer the pilot one and say, “Merry Christmas friend.”

If your eating a slice of pizza offer a bite to your flight attendant and say, “Happy Holidays.”

And if you happen to have some astronaut food offer it to the crew and say, “Bring some water to a boil… Looks like you could use a hot meal."

What I Did Not Do During My Summer Vacation


I was on vacation during the month of July. I ceased all work related activities.

I also didn't...

  • Read a USATODAY
  • Eat airport food
  • Shave
  • Tell a passenger their flight cancelled... just for the fun of it
  • Turn my back and walk away from the TSA while they attempted to explain the rules
  • Make small talk with a new hire pilot about what they flew before this
  • Set an clock alarm with a pencil so as to not touch the buttons with my fingers
  • What CNN Airport News Network
  • Wear a tie
  • Watch sailboats from the cockpit of jet wishing I was down there
  • Iron anything
  • Get excited about finding a People, US Magazine and OK! in the same seat back pocket
  • Ride in a hotel van telling horror stories about flying with my crew while one non-airline person cries silently to themselves in the back
  • Send my phone through an X-ray machine with the "Get me out of this bag!" ringtone set to fire in T minus 10 seconds
  • Drink an emergency shot of airplane coffee
  • Wear a five point harness (almost though. Considered racing a go-cart)
  • Use outlook for email
  • Touch a thrust lever
  • Do a checklist (making a list now. Close)

It was a blissful month away from the airport. I return to the cockpit tomorrow. I just hope they didn't move any of the buttons around.

How Hollywood Gets Airline Life Wrong


In many ways… Hollywood’s depiction of airline life is completely wrong. In some ways it’s spot on and I claim those scenes as just another day at the office. My ownership to what scene I sell as truth depends on the audience I’m with. If I’m sitting with guys and it’s a pilot surrounded by beautiful ladies at a bar listening intently to him tell stories I’ll say, “Yep, they nailed it!”

If I’m with my mom who gets anxious about my flying and a scene is on where the pilot calmly cheats death by flying inverted through a storm because the elevator has lost effectiveness I’ll say, “Yep, they nailed it.”

Most of the time though flying movies make me laugh. I’m sure all industries are critical of the movie studios depiction of their profession but films with airplanes on the poster can be so comical about it. I can’t imagine a bunch of pipe fitters laughing at plumbing movies as much as pilots do about cockpit scenes. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery so I guess we should all be flattered when they mock us with their outlandish stories.

Those Hats


As much as they’d like for you to believe it we don’t wear the hats all the time. I guess it’s an easy way to remind the movie goers that the person in the scene is a pilot. The swagger, the smooth way with the ladies and sunglasses aren’t enough. I love the shots of these clowns sitting at breakfast far from an airport wearing their hat or walking around out in public donning their “look at me” headgear. My airline requires us to wear the lid in the winter so that’s a given… but only in the airport! The other time I wear my hat is on bad hair days and at the end of my haircut cycle when I’m trying to squeeze a few more weeks out of the current length. To be honest… my barometer for when it’s time to get a haircut is when I can’t tuck it all up under there anymore.

Four Hands on the Wheel


Yes, there are two of us up front but we both don’t have our hands on the wheel at the same time… all the time. These scenes remind me of drivers ed when the instructor is guiding you through a three point turn. It doesn’t take four hands to steer the ship. Most of the time there are no hands on the wheel. Often most of the work is done with just one finger. If someone tells you they’re an airline pilot ask to see their fingers. If one has a callus on the tip they’re a pilot. That’s the autopilot finger.

Lighting and Rain and Turbulence Oh My

twighlight zone
twighlight zone

It’s dark out and the cabin is getting thrown around and the lightning is flashing at terrifying intervals. You can hear the thunder and the rain is hitting the windows in buckets as if the plane weren’t even moving at all. This doesn’t happen.  We avoid the storms. Storms mean bumps and bumps mean spilt coffee. Our coffee. Now, the lightning is possible. Water carries light farther than air does and often we are in the clouds near storms so those flashes do travel some distance. But, rarely are we in the middle of the storm. Unless we’re bored. Often those flashes you see are the strobes out there on the wings telling other planes to not hit us. Again, it’s dark and if we’re in thick water filled clouds those flashes can be pretty terrifying. You want to see terrifying? Come up front when the cockpit windows are filled up with St. Elmo’s Fire. Put that in a movie and I may set my popcorn down for a second.

An Anthropomorphic Autopilot


They nailed it in just about every scene in Airplane. While we don’t have an inflatable autopilot our autopilot does have a name. His name is George. Best I’ve heard is that we call him George after an early tinkerer in automated flight named George Debeeson. At least once a trip one of us will refer to the autopilot as George. We never give him thanks or praise him on a job well done. Typically, we yell at him for doing something stupid. Which always is because we told him to do something stupid. “Oh come on George! What are you doing now?”

Beautiful Flight Attendants


Now, this one is true. They always nail it here. We have beautiful people in the cabin from all over the world. Unlike most professions where you’re all from the same area with same stories who probably know the same people… our job is full of people from all over. And they are beautiful and their stories make them more so. This is one of the great things about airline life. We all have this one thing in common. We don’t want to be cooped up behind a desk. We want to travel and experience new things. There are long days and rude passengers but in the end there is a beautiful optimism about the adventure that awaits tomorrow and it shows on the faces of the flight attendants. Now the cockpit crew. That’s for another story.

We’re a miserable lot.

Captain Dad - I Called Maintenance Control for a Toy Helicopter


My work life and home life collided yesterday when my son complained that his toy Hess helicopter wasn't working as it was supposed to.

“My helicopter won’t fly anymore!”

It never flew. The blades spun. It lit up. It made lots noises. But it never flew.

In his world it did though. And now it did not. The batteries were dead. Naturally, they died while we were in the car. Away from fresh batteries.

I suggested maybe we should take it to the helicopter doctor. In hindsight… this wasn’t the best approach. Although I liked the sound of helicopter doctor and it sounded pretty damned cute when he said it, it got pretty old when he refused to do anything but go to the helicopter doctor.

“I think maybe the doctor is not in today.” I said.

“I want to go to the helicopter doctor.”

“Actually, they are not accepting new patients at the moment. I called last week for mommy’s helicopter.”

“I want to go to the helicopter doctor now!”

“There is no such thing as a helicopter doctor! I made it up… just like I made up that story about the aquarium being closed. Are you kidding? You fell for that! Sharks not coming out during the rain? I just didn't want to go run through the rain when you’d probably be bored as soon as we go there!“

This is what I wanted to say.

I made this bed. I had to sleep in it. Or work on another lie.

I tried explaining that I felt pretty certain I could fix the helicopter by putting new batteries in it. But I lost him when I started complaining about how much I hate the toys that don’t have an auto off feature because the batteries run out and that the manufacturers were in bed with the battery company.

"Doesn't it bother you when the train is running incessantly under the couch clicking and clicking and clicking with nowhere to go?"

“Can we go to the helicopter doctor now. Please?”

I told him I’d call the doctor and see if they had any advice since I didn’t have money for the copay anyways.

“Okay. Call the helicopter doctor.”

In the cockpit both on the ground and in the air there are times when we call the airplane doctor for advice. This happens pretty often actually. Most things are fixed by rebooting the airplane. This can only be performed on the ground… for obvious reason.

For the problems that Ctrl - Alt - Del can’t fix the mechanics over the phone sometimes can run through a procedure with us.

“Jiggle this or smack that with an open palm. Not a fist… and open palm.”

When this doesn’t stop the smoke from billowing out of the engine they send out the big guns with tools to the rescue.

I was hoping to nip this one in the bud with a phone call.

Luckily my son is used to seeing me with a headset for phone calls. If he was expecting a two way speakerphone call the jig would be up.

“Hello, helicopter doctor? My son is having trouble with his helicopter.”


“What is the problem?” I yelled to the back seat.

“It doesn’t fly anymore.”

“Yeah, he says it doesn’t fly anymore.”


“What color is it?”

“Green, and white.”

“It’s green and white.”

“And red and black and grey and yellow and it doesn't make noises anymore.”

“It’s a lot of colors. He says to jiggle it a little and smack it with the palm of your hand.”

He started beating it. Violently. Hey, doctors orders.

“Okay, the doctor thinks that maybe it needs a new battery. He says that when we get home I should put a new battery in it and if that doesn’t work to call him back.”

"Okay, let’s put a new battery in it."

"He also says that you need to take a nap and eat your green beans.”

"The helicopter doctor is nice."

"Yes he is." I replied. Relieved.

Crisis created. Crisis averted.

And peace was restored.

The Things You Find in Hotel Beds


Do not read this if you are in a hotel bed.

If you are in a hotel bed please tell me you removed the bedspread.

Please tell me you didn’t eat something with your bare hands after touching the remote control, alarm clock or light switch.

You aren’t walking around barefoot are you!

You’re using the coffee pot?!

I spend half the year in hotel beds. I’m not an escort. I get paid less.

Having spent half the year in hotel beds for a decade and a half I’ve witnessed some things. You could say, “I’ve been around the block.”

Again, not an escort.

Some things will change you forever. Some just add to the growing list of phobias and fears that grow exponentially with time. Like cuneiform bacteria in the hotel sink.

One of my worst hotel nights was the evening I watched a Dateline special on hotel cleanliness while laying in a hotel bed. As they shined the black light around the room illuminating bodily fluids on every exposed surface it wasn’t hard to imagine it was my room they were investigating.

There was the time I was so sick that against my better judgement I took a bath in the hotel tub. As the tub filled the funk and debris from the bottom rose and floated in the water like the flotsam from a shipwreck.

But the worst time. The one that I go to bed thinking about was the time I found something in the bed with me.

I was laying in the dark attempting to force myself to sleep in between cycles of the air conditioner that was in automode even though I clearly had it set to on. Trying to sleep I felt something at the foot of the bed under the covers with my bare toes. Half asleep, half awake I was rolling it around with my toes like I was making an origami swan assuming it was the tag to the sheets or maybe even the mattress. And then I realized it wasn’t connected to anything.

I was juggling it with my toes and it was free to move in any direction my piggies sent it.

Panicked, I ripped the cover off and hit the light on the bedside table. I was so hurried I didn’t even use the wet nap I typically use to touch switches.

I hesitated to look near my feet.

“Please don’t be. Please don’t be. Please don’t be.”

It was.

I had been noodling with my toes a bloody band aid. It was more like a bandage. A very large and very used bloody bandage.

I reminded myself it was probably washed with the linens and remained during the dressing of the bed that day but it didn’t make it any easier.

I tried to pretend that it wasn’t used on an open sore. It was possibly used by someone attempting to hide an ankle tattoo. That didn’t explain the blood stain.

All I could do was suck it up and add it to the list of things I’ll never do again.

Sleep barefoot in a hotel bed.


Eat, Sleep, Fly


10539832165_58b906f29e_bSometimes people ask me what it's like to be a pilot. "Wow, that must be so cool! I bet you're really smart. You must have been good at math in school. Are all pilots as handsome as you?" I've never gotten that last one. I made that up.

When asked about how thrilling it must be I agree that it is both fun and exciting. I like to perpetuate the myth. That's what we do. Spin yarn. Tell tall tales. Back in the day it was called "hangar flying" or something like that.

But the truth is it's never as adventurous as it sounds.

Below is a sample day. Actually, this isn't just a sample. This is every day. EVERY DAY.

The job is standardized and consistent for safety. Every flight begins and ends with the gear going up and then back down again. In that order. Very important. Take note.

On today's sample day I'm on day two of a four day trip. I fly out early and if all goes as planned I will be done by 4:00 pm in Florida. Very important… if all goes as planned. There are lots of in’s and out’s.

We start in a midwest town known for their Vikings and a guy called Prince and are to end in a town down South with lots of wealthy retirees. When we arrive there the jetway will be filled with empty wheelchairs awaiting the flock of snow birds. It will look like the start line of a go-cart track.

My phone alarm goes off exactly 8 hours after I turned the lights out and precisely 45 minutes before I am to catch the hotel van to the airport. Roughly 60 seconds after my phone sounds the hotel alarm clock fires the built in buzzer. I never use the 'wake to radio' setting. I courteously leave it on the station I found it on for the housekeepers. The timing between the two alarms unfortunately is at an imperfect interval since hotel clocks are not set to an atomic standard. Often the two alarms ring seconds from each other. These are the good days. An instant crescendo of alarms. Especially when it’s 4:00 am. As it was this morning.

SONY DSCAnd don’t get me started on the Aloft hotel chain and their hipster analog clocks. Since the plastic clock face doesn't have built in magnifying glass bubbles like they have on Sea Monkey tanks you never know what time the alarm is set for. I set those alarms by scheduling a 5 minute buffer on either side of the designated alarm time. Undoubtedly, this window expires and the alarm sounds every time I am midshower.

After the orchestra of alarms I have 45 minutes to put my game face on. If you know me, you can imagine it doesn't take much to make this happen (pointing to my face and hair.) I've perfected this morning routine by more than a decade of living out of a suitcase... only the essentials are left unpacked before bed. I'm typically up and on my way with time to enjoy some bad hotel coffee. Sometimes I prep the coffee pot the night before by stuffing the single serving coffee bag into the E. coli tray and filling the brewer with water so all I had to do in the morning was hit go. Saves me 30 seconds and the brew takes on a special flavor if the water gets the chance to sit and saute all night in the bacteria reservoir.

Today's alarms rang at 4:00 am. The crew and I had a 4:45 am van to the airport. We are to be at the airplane 30 minutes before departure so today's flight left at 5:30 am. Yes. You read that correctly. At that time of day the hotel breakfast isn't available so it's gnarly coffee on an empty stomach until we land in a few hours.

Most hotels we stay at have a breakfast offering of some sort. I rank hotels based on their breakfast.

And their shower pressure.

And the speed of their internet.

Some hotels have no free breakfast. These are the expensive hotels. That's the trade off. You get a nice, allegedly clean room with fancy soaps meant either for the face or the body but you don't get a big fluffy burnt lobby waffle that's been cooked in a never cleaned, overused waffle iron - for free. Instead you have to pay for overpriced yogurt. (Pro-Tip. I walk to the nearest cheap hotel and blend in with the unwashed and eat for free. I know, it's cheap of me but it's also a cheap thrill. It makes me feel alive.)

Some hotels have a table of cold round bread items and a toaster. They may have iced down cups of yogurt. They may have packs of oatmeal and some warm water. I called a $25/night hotel a crashpad for a year that had a loaf of bread and a communal tub of butter and jar of jelly for the guests. Butter in the jelly and toast crumbs in both. I gave it a ‘charming’ on TripAdviser. These are the level B breakfast nooks.


The level C hotels have a few mysterious hot items. Omelette shaped yellow patties that we freeloaders eat up like prisoners fresh out of the hole. To build excitement, these treats are served in a catering tray with a rollback top. I choose not to peak in when others are dishing out their gruel. I like to be surprised. Same reason I don't read the yogurt cups. I like to be wowed by the fruit on the bottom. There normally is a 'meat' to go along with the 'eggs'. My personal favorite is the chewy bacon. Imagine a hot, sweaty, bacon flavored fruit roll-up. Delish. To satisfy the sugar and starch food groups of the hotel breakfast pyramid, level C hotel breakfast bazaars offer a selection of knock-off cereal (Apple Loops, Cheery Holes, Crispy Rice) in individual rocketship shaped dispensers. The food chute is so caked with cereal lint that vigorous shaking is required to get the flakes, loops or crisps through the water wheel.

Level D is the same as level C but with fruit and named brand cereals.

Now we get to the level E. These are hard to come by. A restaurant with a full menu that serves breakfast to airline crews... for free. This hotel doesn't exist.

But today… no breakfast. Too early for that. Maybe there will be an old lady on the flight who will offer us some hard candy because we look weak. Maybe.

IMG_20140330_124812And then we fly.. blah blah blah. And deviate around life ending storms... blah blah blah. And deliver loved ones to their loved ones... blah blah blah. And maybe deliver a baby - or perform a wedding enroute.

And then we eat!

This is the hardest decision of the day. What to eat. When to eat. How much to eat.

You see friends. Each airport has it's own special offerings. This one may offer fried stuff drizzled with cheese and that one may have baked stuff drizzled with cheese. This one may offer lots of rib sticking carbs that surely will keep you full all day for a high price while that one may not. It may not seem like a tough call but this is the flight crew dilemma. If I don't eat now while the getting is good I may end up in a food desert later with no options but airline snacks and a hotel cookie for dinner.

So… we debate lunch. There is no checklist for this one. No right answer. This truly is the only time of day where were are allowed to think outside the box (literally). So we stew and hem and haw and fear making the wrong decision.

Little known fact… it’s in our manual that we are not to eat the same food from the same place within thirty minutes. Don’t want us both getting sick up there at the same time now do we?

Two empty plates in the cockpit with a fish skeleton on each and a lemon slice. Not good.

After lunch we fly… blah blah blah. And run checklists… blah blah blah. And maybe adeptly handle a life ending mechanical disaster with ease, calm and professionalism… blah blah blah.

And then we get the hotel! And eat!

And if there is a circus in town we do that and maybe go sight seeing and sample local cuisine.

Or more likely… none of that. I go to the hotel and watch bad TV and then set the alarm for forty five minutes before the van ride and turn the lights out 8 hours before that.

And if the hotel is a level A hotel with no free breakfast offerings, I scope out the area for hotels that may for the morning.





The Time I Told an Aviation Icon I Didn't Have a Business Card


Filed away years ago as, "Well, that sure was stupid."

Once, I met Southwest founder and former CEO, Herb Kelleher in the airport. We talked at length and I got the impression he liked me. He suggested as much. And then he asked for my card. To which I replied, "I don't have a card. I've never had a reason to carry one."

It started like this. I was working a flight from Washington D.C. to Dallas and we were delayed for weather. We had boarded and were at the gate and I made a few announcements that the weather was looking bad in Dallas and we would wait a bit longer and hope for the best but there wasn't much more we could do. I like to make these announcements using the flight attendants PA so I can be face to face with the passengers when I deliver the news. Especially if I'm having a good hair day. In this case, I had to make the announcement a few times until the final, "Well, it looks like we are not going anywhere" speech.

The flight was cancelled. Again, I like to stand at the door when the passengers leave so I can take the punches away from the flight attendants. Mr. Kelleher got off last and I thanked him for his patience.

My first officer had to tell me who that last passenger was. I wasn't aware.

"I wish I knew." I said to him. "There is so much I'd love to ask him."

But I ran into him a little while later coincidentally sitting in the gate area of my next outbound flight which was in the opposite direction of Dallas. I thanked him again for his patience and asked if he was still going to Texas. "Are you flying standby?" I joked.

We talked for about thirty minutes about the state of the airline industry and what the future had in store. With the recent consolidations, his predictions came true.

We talked about pilots and personalities and when we shook hands to part ways he said, "I really like you. I like your sense of humor." And then he asked for my business card.

To which I inexplicably replied. "I don't have a card. I've never had a reason to carry one."

Yes. I said, "I Don't Have A Card".

We shook hands and went our ways.

When I got back to the cockpit it hit me. "What a moron! What was a I thinking!"

It's a well known legend that Mr. Kelleher wrote the first draft of the Southwest business plan on a cocktail napkin. I yelled back to the galley, "I need some cocktail napkins!"

"Did you spill something again!" Is what I heard.

"No! But I need some napkins!" I answered.

I quickly scribbled my contact information on the napkin. We were done boarding and due to push back soon and I told the gate agent I'd be just a second. In my head I'd leap from the plane over the gap into the jetway, run and give Mr. Kelleher by information. I'd say breathlessly, "My cocktail napkin, Sir."

But he was nowhere to be seen. He was gone.

That night I ordered a thousand business cards and carry one everywhere I go. I still have nine hundred and ninety nine.

I later used my "cocktail napkin" to clean up spilt coffee in the cockpit.

Is the First Officer Actually a Pilot?

Wright-BrothersSince the beginning, there have always been two pilots up on the flight deck. Had it not been for the Wright Brothers, maybe we'd only have one seat up there. It's a common misconception that the First Officer (commonly referred to as the copilot in the movies or 'gear monkey' in real life) isn't really a pilot. This is false. They are just as qualified as the Captain. The real question though is... are they essential?

This takes us back to the Wright Brothers.

Pilots are narcissists who need an audience. We need someone to laugh at our jokes and make us feel important. We need someone to entertain us when we get tired of monitoring the autopilot. We also need someone to humbly do the dirty work so we can keep our hands clean.

This need for validation is  what encouraged the Wright Brothers to take to the skies in the first place. That and sibling rivalry.  The day Orville beat Wilbur in a bike race is the day Wilbur said, "Oh yeah! I'm gonna put wings on a bike! Lets see who's laughing then, Bro!"

And the race to the air began. While the endeavor initially was a game of one-upmanship, soon the master/sidekick team was traveling the world demonstrating their magical flying machine. The modern First Officer was born. Orville out getting the Flyer ready, Wilbur winking to the ladies in the audience, drinking his coffee and passing out rectangular wings to the kids.


Yes, of course the first aircraft only had one seat but as flight durations got longer than a single hill the sole Pilot in Command grew tired of hearing himself tell the same corny jokes out loud and demanded a second seat be installed for comic relief. It was only natural to bring along the guy that new almost as much about the airplane since he was out preflighting and making sure the Captains name was painted crisply and legibly under his window. Oh, and if the paint was chipped... There would be hell to pay.

So, a second seat was mounted but had no actual controls. It was there simply to hold a warm body. And to balance the airplane, of course. (As planes got longer, flight attendants were also added for this reason.)

In time, as aircraft reliability increased, naturally the First Officers abilities improved as the bar for excellence was lowered. A natural medium was found balancing the skills of the cockpit crew. A give and take relationship has developed where the copilot is there to ensure the Captains ego isn't damaged by laughing at his jokes and ensuring the flight is operated safely so no paperwork has to be filled out.

They are essential flight deck officers who may be replaced by Siri now that we can use our portable electronic devices through all phases of flight.

I'm just not sure an Iphone can run the checklist so I can concentrate on what I will say to Letterman or Anderson Cooper in the event of an unlikely water landing.

What You Should Not Ask Your Flight Crew

railroad-conductor We obviously spend lots of time around the humans. We are in the service industry after all. Day in and day out we spend our time carrying you, your loved ones, your bags and your 'service animals' from here to there with ease. We do this with a smile on our face. Not because we get paid exorbitant amounts of money to do so but because we love it. It's in our blood. Even though the means of travel have changed, the drivers and their staff have stayed the same.

"All aboard!" I shout from the cockpit window up to the terminal waving my Captain's hat through the morning fog while confirming the departure time on my gold pocket watch. Children watch with their noses to the window wondering what far off land I will be steering this magical flying machine to. My passengers are waving from their windows as we sail away. Except for the ones in steerage. They are angry.

But while times have changed, I wonder if the passengers have remained the same? Did they make small talk with the ship Captain before they set sail while he was busy doing what ever those guys did back then? If the train conductor was walking through the cars stretching his legs at the end of a long day on the rails was he bothered with small talk from the humans?

"So, what is your route?" They may ask him.

"To and fro." He'd say. "To and fro."

The "what is your route" question is the most common one you can ask. I'm sure there is a bit of intrigue to our lifestyle but this question lacks in all originality. I lie every time I'm asked this one. Unless the questioner is a nun. To them I always tell the god's honest truth. "It will be very bumpy and there is always a chance something could go very wrong."

But if you were to ask, "Of the places you go which is your favorite?" I'd give you a full answer. Unless I'm eating at the one table that is very far from anyone else.

"That's a great question. I'm so glad you asked. It's not what you would think really. We may spend the night in what sounds like a great destination but may be stuck in a nasty hotel with no entertainment options nearby. Conversely, we may stay somewhere you'd never expect would be fun but we have lots of time with plenty to do. But, to tell you the truth. Most of the time we stay in the hotelville next to the airport that looks like every other hotelville. A few American chain restaurants and a couple of big box stores. All I really care about anymore are lobby waffles... and good shower pressure."

Another good one.

"My neighbor has a sister who is a pilot. Do you know a lady named Mary? She has dark hair."

Often, if I even entertain this question, it turns out Mary neither works for the same airline or even is an airline pilot. For these questions I find it best to answer something else. "Yeah, I think gate 35 is down there. That flight cancelled though."

I walk away when someone starts a conversation with, "So, I just watched the movie Flight."

Don't get me started with the number of times I've heard, "But you wear glasses?"

Luckily, this one doesn't come up anymore, "Are you old enough to fly this plane?"

Don't make any jokes about booze.

Flight attendants take it personally when you suggest they look tired and you ask if they've had a long day.

And unless you are engineer who has worked on aircraft design, are a meteorologist or have been to space I'm not going to talk "shop" with you.

I like talking to people. I really do. This is why I choose to fly for a passenger airline instead of a cargo one. I enjoy interacting with all types of travelers in the airport. Even when times are tough. Especially when times are tough. It's the passengers that ask questions just for the sake of talking. The ones that don't really want to have a conversation they just don't want to be alone. Those are the ones I test my phone volume around so it sounds like its ringing.

If you have an honest question, ask away.

Just don't call me 'Skipper." 

Living in Hotels - It's Us or The Bedbugs


I spend about a ten nights a month in hotels. I’ve been doing this job for fourteen years. I’ve slept (or attempted to sleep) in a hotel bed roughly 1700 times since then. I’ve learned a few things about survival along the way. I’ve not caught any nasty infections, have maintained a relatively healthy immune system and have woken up most mornings rash free. How do you stay so healthy while galavanting around that petri dish, you may ask? Very carefully.

I have a fine tuned hotel regimen that I will now offer you so that you too can wake up looking like the happy and well rested humans on the poster in the elevator. “Good Day? No, Great Day!”

First off… Everything is Hazmat. Every time your skin touches anything that didn’t come from the airlock chamber that you call your suitcase needs to be sanitized immediately. And remember to respect that airlock and treat it as the clean room that it is. It is your only fortress of solitude in the battle between you and the microscopic threats that are everywhere. Don’t put it on the bed or anything else that probably is infested with bedbugs. I bring bungee cords and suspend my luggage from the shower curtain rod. I coat the cords with hand sanitizer after pulling them from their home in the jar of rubbing alcohol. Most mornings there is a pile of dead bacteria directly underneath. I snuff out the barely alive ones with my shower shoes.

Yes, shower shoes… Always wear shower shoes! They aren’t just for the shower. They are your best friend soldier. Anytime you march along that war zone they call ‘vacuum annually carpet’ make sure you lace up your boots. One morning you will wake up and feel a pile of goo where your foot once was and regret that you loaned your shower shoes to that hobo in the last campaign.

Never touch the alarm clock, TV remote or phone with your bare hands. Strike that. Never touch anything with your bare hands. You know where your hands have been but you have no idea where the hands of the thousands of other vagabonds who have used those things have been. And most humans have two of them so you need to be especially cautious. After sanitizing my body upon entering the room I wrap my hands and forearms in garbage bags and rubber band them off at the wrist and elbow. For the entire evening I interact with the world through this glorious layer of plastic. Resist the urge to touch you face and dear lord don’t eat anything. Once the outer layer has been compromised it can only be used on tainted surfaces. Don’t touch your toothbrush or cell phone. Don’t fiddle with your Ipad. All those are off limits now. And for goodness sake, don’t touch your face!

A common question I get is how to eat in such a virus laden wasteland. It’s a tough one. I’m not gonna sugar coat this one. The microwave is off limits because I’ve known too many people who’ve dried their socks and undergarments (you know who you are) in the microwave so your only option is food from your safe place, your suitcase. Bring your own utensils, too. Avoid the urge to eat food dropped on the floor or mattress. Leave the three second rule at the front desk when you check in. Remove your garbage bag protection, disinfect your hands and eat quickly without touching anything. If the TV is on and the shows ends, suck it up and watch Two and Half Men until you are done.

A common misconception is that it is safe to remove your shower shoes in the shower. Wrong. Your body’s immune system is no match to the layer of filth that has evolved along the bottom of that porcelain deathtrap. Even shower shoes aren’t enough. Tiny monsters with foot fetishes can easily scale the inch of plastic that separates you from instant toe fungus. I soak several bath towels in Lysol concentrate and line the shower floor with them. I use the pine scented variation because I like it when my feet smell like a forest afterwards.

And back to bedbugs. There is nothing you can do about them. They are everywhere. You will get them. You will itch. You will wake up with bites and take them home to your family. It's a gift from the road. A free gift that you will be reminded of every time you look at your once supple but now pockmarked skin. It's your badge of honor or your Scarlet Letter depending on which side of your bedbug infested bed you woke up on.

Using these tips I’m sure you can enjoy your stay in hotels like I do and make it the home away from home you deserve. Word of advice though. If you’re watching TV and a news program airs about hotel cleanliness it’s best to turn it off quickly. Be sure to turn it off before they get to the part about TV remotes. When they shine the black lights on that germ magnet it illuminates like a light saber. You’ll be using your Pinesol smelling big toe to unplug the TV from the wall.

Also, get rid of the bedspread. That thing is garnish that gets washed annually.

But They Do Have Free Breakfast


When I was a young airline pilot and new to ‘the road’ I ranked hotels by their proximity to good food and entertainment. Now, I judge hotels on two things: internet speed and shower pressure.

Oh, and free breakfast.

I’m not even a breakfast guy. But when it’s free – I’m a kid in a carb filled candy store. I pirouette around the kids begging their parents for another ‘home-made’ waffle with my tray of stale bagels, English muffins and knock-off Cheerios (Crunchy O’s, for the record). I feel like a malnourished Fred Astaire with a bowl of generic biscuits and gravy dancing to CNN Headline News.

Some hotel meals are better than others. Some are simply offering something so they can entice the road warriors. This way they can add another checkmark on along with “In room safe” and “Fitness Room”.

At least they can say they have a gym.

I stayed at a hotel once that had a bagged loaf of bread next to a toaster with a tub of butter and a communal jar of jelly by its side. Jelly is so much more filling when a knife full has bread crumbs and chunks of butter from the last freeloader mixed in. But hey, it was free and I passed the solitary knife to the pilot to my left when I was done and recognized the Stockholm Syndrome look in his eyes. I said, “Here you go Patty Hearst.”

People who aren’t in the industry always assume our life is like a vacation won on Price Is Right. “Oh, you’re going to Chicago?! You need to go downtown and have a pizza at Gino’s East and then take a stroll down the famed Magnificent Mile.”

Let me tell you what that involves. First of all… we often don’t have that much time. Often twelve hours in the hotel in which some of that should be for legitimate rest. So let’s say four hours in the hotel. Subtract getting ready in the morning and washing the funk from the airplane off you when you get to the room. Two hours remain. We typically stay near the airport which is rarely near anything unique to that city. So now it’s a cab ride for this pizza… a roundtrip cab ride that’s thirty minutes each way. We’re looking at a fifty dollar pizza that has to be sucked down so you can get back to the hotel in order to wake up early enough to enjoy free breakfast in the morning.

Typically dinner is at another American chain restaurant that is within walking distance to the hotel. And regardless what State we are in, we can look out the window of that restaurant and see a Bed Bath and Beyond, a Wall-Mart or a Home Depot. “Anytown USA”. These restaurantvilles are the evolution of the truck stop. And before that they were the saloons the pony express riders would stop in to share stories from the road.

“Oh, you’re riding west through the Nebraska Territory? Don’t stop in Omaha. They don’t have free breakfast.”

Why it is Imperative you Land a Pilot


This article was floating around Facebook today explaining why it is imperative you land a pilot. 6 reasons to be exact. Since I am a pilot, I figured I’d explain my reasoning why scoring a Jet Captain should be on your to-do list. While you may find a man irresistible who gets paid to strap himself to a hurtling piece of metal for a living think about this: that same man safely brings that metal back down to Earth while dodging birds, kites and the occasional errant birthday party balloon. How sexy it must be to imagine him in the cockpit driving the airplane to the gate as quickly and safely as possible because he needs to use the restroom after pounding coffee for the last few hours. Even though these notions are enticing enough, let me tell you other down to Earth reasons why dating a pilot is a real treat. And if you’re so lucky to marry one, I’ll tell you the secrets you have in store for you. I should know. I am a pilot.

If you’re into jet setting.

Being with a pilot means you get bootstrapped to your throttle jockey’s pass privileges. This is not automatic though. He may already have his drinking buddy listed as his ‘domestic partner’ so they can take free trips down to the islands or Vegas together. Once you’ve proven your worth though, imagine traveling for nearly free as long as there are seats available on the flight you are hoping to climb aboard during peak traveling season when everyone else is willing to pay to get there. You can look forward to off season trips to cold beaches and icy ski slopes. And while travel is cheap you aren’t afforded any extra privileges in the TSA line so if you get bumped from the flight because there is no room for your cheap ass you can go home with the memory of being harassed and possibly man handled by a security agent – for free!

Built in breaks.

As much as you may love your man it’s nice to spend some time apart. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. If your pilot is junior in the airline you can look forward to him being away even more often giving you even more time to watch bad tv alone on the couch. And because he is junior you can look forward to Wednesday night date night because he will be working weekends and only be home a few days during the week. If you have a normal nine to five job you will enjoy many weekends out with your girlfriends telling them about how awesome your new man is. Practice this speech because you will be telling it again at all major holiday gatherings until your flyboy is seasoned enough in the airline to hold a decent schedule.

Conquer your fear of flying. Was your grandmother surprised when you told her you were dating an aviator? Did she remind you of your fear of flying and the time you peed on yourself when you were a little girl? Well, any fears you may have had will be as easy as a bed time story when he comes home and tells you about his day. If he brings another winged warrior over and they have a few beers then you’d better leave the room and start packing depends before you fly. Your fears will be realized when he casually tells you about the near misses, low fuel warnings and the time he volunteered to be the ‘pathfinder’ through the storms just because he wanted to get to the hotel before the restaurant closed.

Everyone likes a man in uniform.

And who doesn’t love a veteran pilot in a season uniform? You’ve enjoyed a four day break from your Jet Driver while he’s been out dodging storms, avoiding calamity and spilling coffee on himself. You can’t wait for him to come home. Imagine the love you will feel when you see him walking from the car looking fine in his stripes. He’s been gone for four days and to avoid overloading his suitcase with extra bulk he’s packed just one uniform. The one he is wearing… the same one he left wearing four days ago. Maybe he spent a few extra hours in the sun waiting for a late hotel van or a little extra time in the rain kicking the tires of his jet. He’s not just your pilot. He’s your road warrior. And he has the smells of the road to prove it.

Free stuff Your man will bring you all kinds of gifts from the road. You will never want for little bars of soap, shampoo and if he is really cheap – really bad toilet paper. Your bookshelf and magazine rack will be stock full of gossip magazines and bad fiction. Your couch throws will be thin airline blankets and your pantry will be full of snack mix and V8. You will never have to go to the Dollar Store again! And you thought you had it made with the last nine-to-five guy you dated. His free pens and office supplies don’t stand a chance next to the bad wine mini bottles he will pull out of his flight bag.

As an airline pilot I can assuredly say that my wife made the best decision of her life when she chose me. She’s a lucky lady and repays me with endless bottles of sunscreen to keep my weathered skin healthy and kicking for many years in the sun to come.

Thomas the Tank Engine in "Just Say No to Drones"

It was a bright and sunny day on the island of Sodor and all the trains were running on time expect for one. Thomas the Tank Engine sat with his big engine running idle and burning fuel at Sodor Station waiting on a return call from crew scheduling.

"What is it this time?" Asked the gate agent.

Usually she was nice and friendly with a big smile but today she looked cross and her smile was an angry frown. "We have a schedule to keep and now your passengers will be late for their connections."

"I don't what to tell you." Said Thomas. Attempting a reassuring smile. "I've called crew scheduling to see where my conductor is and now all I can do is wait for them to call back. They are short staffed as usual and probably having a hard time finding someone who is on call."

This news didn't turn her frown around at all. If anything, Thomas noticed maybe the frown got even frownier. "Why do you need a conductor anyway?" She asked. "Can't you drive yourself - autonomously?"

Autonomously wasn't a word he was used to. "If you're suggesting that I can drive without a conductor." Thomas asked. "Than yes I can. I can drive even better than the conductor. I can drive for longer periods of time. I don't need to take breaks. I'm not even governed by the same rest requirements the conductor needs."

"Then why do we have to wait for one?" Asked the gate agent. "If you can do all these things by yourself."

"Because of regulations." Answered Thomas. "Because of regulations."

"Well." Said the gate agent. "I guess we wait."

Thomas sat with his big engine idling and thought about how silly it was that he had to wait for a conductor to drive him seeing as he was perfectly capable of doing the job just fine without him. He thought that maybe just one little trip around the island of Sodor without a conductor at the wheel wouldn't hurt anyone. Maybe he could take one trip on his own and prove to Sir Topham Hatt that a conductor wasn't needed. This would save lots of money and he knew the bosses liked to save money.

"Peep Peep." Thomas said with his horn. "Peep Peep." He said again.

Normally the peeping was something the conductor did signaling to the gate agent it was time to board but there was no conductor on board and he did it all by himself.

thomas-the-tank-engine-steve-liptrot "Off to a good start." Thought Thomas. "Off to a very good start."

And like that... the passengers began boarding the train.

"I just need you to sign the manifest." Said the gate agent to Thomas when the boarding was complete.

"Well I don't know how I can do that?" Answered Thomas. "I'm not sure how I can sign anything really. Maybe you can sign it for me? Just this one time."

"Okay Thomas." Said the gate agent as she signed Thomas the Tank Engine on the manifest and closed the door to the passenger compartment. "Have a nice drive."

"What a lovely day for a train ride." Thought Thomas as he began his first ever solo trip around the island. He had been on this track so many times but it never felt like this before. He felt like he was king of the world and even began humming to himself. He must have been lost in his own thoughts because he didn't hear the weather report come over the radio. Had he been listening he would have heard that there was a big storm ahead and all the trains were diverting to another track.

The sky grew dark and Thomas started getting knocked around by downdrafts. "I'm not sure what to do." Thought Thomas. "I've never had to make a decision like this before. I wonder what the conductor would do?"

But there was no conductor on board and Thomas had no choice but to keep going straight towards the storm.

The train began shaking violently but it wasn't the passengers screaming in the back that scared him. It was that he was the only train on the track. Driving alone in a storm was something he had never done before and he had never felt so alone.

Soon, Thomas heard a voice come over the radio. It was the conductor assigned to his trip. "Thomas! What are you doing out there alone?" The conductor yelled. "The storm is even worse ahead and you quickly need to turn around."

"Okay conductor. I will do that. Tell me how?" Said Thomas.

"I will turn the tracks ahead and you will be on your way to the roundhouse. Unhook you cars behind you and you will be able to turn around and then push your passengers to safety."

"Thank you, Conductor." Said Thomas. "Thank you. I guess I should never have driven the train alone. I will not do that again."

"It's okay Thomas. Just get back to the station and unload your passengers." The conductor said. "We will talk about this later."

For the whole drive home Thomas was behind the train pushing his passengers back to Sodor station. He had no choice but to look into the compartment and see all the scared people looking back at him. He knew he had done something wrong and knew now that he wasn't smarter than the humans. He guessed that is why they need so much rest so they can keep their brains and bodies sharp and alert so they could make the tough descisions that trains can't make on their own. "Even though the conductor costs more money," He thought. "I hope the regulations don't change and make me drive alone again anytime soon."

2013 resolutions. The cockpit will be a happier place.


As the new year approaches its time to evaluate accomplishments from the past year and set goals for the next. While I succeed each year with many of my Xbox related achievements, I think 2013 will be more about work and what I bring to the cockpit.

Across the aviation industry, morale is low and tempers are quick to flare. In order to ease relationships between us, the flight crews, and our liaisons in the company, dispatchers, I resolve to do what I can to ease the tension.

One of my 2013 new years resolutions is going to be to send all ACARS messages from the cockpit to dispatch as a haiku.

Weather has gone down Fuel burning onto reserves Round and round we hold

Before social media, hidden panels in the cockpit were our twitter. Still, those panels are a private place where people anonymously gossip about coworkers and spread rumors.

In 2013, I Intend to erase all the graffiti on the flight deck and replace the negative passeges was positive messages.

Something like, ''There is a pretty good chance a kid is back in the cabin who thinks you are awesome.''

Another resolution. I know what you're saying, "Three! Don't set the bar too high."

Although the manual is pretty specific on verbiage during checklists it leaves a little flexibility on other cockpit chatter. During those areas of flight, I'm going to replace those calls with movie quotes. In 2013, rather than asking my first officers to ''start engine one'' I'm gonna ask them to ''Roll on one'' Green Mile style.

And when I brief the crew before a trip as to what to expect over the next few days I'm gonna summon my best William Wallace, "Now tell me, what does that mean to be noble? Your title gives you claim to the throne of our country, but men don't follow titles, they follow courage. Now our people know you. Noble, and common, they respect you. And if you would just lead them to freedom, they'd follow you. And so would I"

May not be the most productive 2013 but I hope to at least keep myself entertained.

Folks, It will Be Yet Another Hour Before We Depart.


Some days I actually do work. But it’s not the work you would assume. It’s not fighting nasty storms or battling windshear down the final approach to an icy runway. It’s interacting with the passengers and assuring them that at some point we will arrive at our destination.

I like that part of the job. To my flight attendant friends I say this. “Yes, I know. When things get tough I get to close the bullet proof cockpit door. Your job is way harder than ours!”

So, I only work a little bit but it is the part of the job I really enjoy and the reason why I’ve never really been drawn to the world of cargo flying. They say “Boxes don’t complain” but it’s these types of fires I enjoy putting out.

Our 12:30 flight boarded on time yesterday and we began our taxi although I had a hunch we’d be delayed. Nothing official yet, I just had a hunch. We were off to Washington’s Reagan airport and both Baltimore and Washington Dulles bound flights had been issued a delay. Our destination was between the two. Either some weird weather or a weather force field was erected over the nation’s capital?

Seconds before reaching the end of the runway for departure they told us what we were expecting, “Update in an hour.”

We rode it out in the holding pad near the runway and as the hour wait ended they said, “Update in another hour.”

And back to the gate we go. At the conclusion of that hour we were told once again, “Update in an hour.”

I mingled with the passengers and did my best to explain the weather pattern to those who were interested and how it affected arrivals and the effect it would have on their connections. I went into the stages of thunderstorm development and described condensation nuclei.

A passenger told me I looked like a good pilot but I assured her it was the crispness of my uniform that fooled her. “Don’t look at my shoes” I suggested.

After five hours it was time to go. The update in an hour became a departure time and we boarded for Washington. Naturally, after beginning our taxi we were given a reroute to avoid the weather that was now in our way. This was the same weather that had closed the airport.

A reroute means more fuel which means another delay.

The new route doubled the distance between here and there. What was to be a 300 mile flight became a 650 mile trip.

Portland to Washington via Pittsburgh.

I told the passengers. “Well, thanks for your patience on the ground through our five hour delay and now the extra minutes we will need to get more gas. By the way, our one hour flight will now take two.” The sound of a crying baby penetrated the walls of the bullet proof cockpit door.

As I made the announcement about the new delay I figured the passenger was rethinking her compliment. Maybe next time there is a weather delay I will get my shoes shined.

He is Chasing Planes Around Already

Judah has the aviation bug... already he has begun chasing planes around. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. Specifically, it may have started when I was single digits sitting in my fathers office watching people fly RC airplanes in a field across the street. The obsession culminated during many summers at Space Camp not learning about poison ivy like most kids.

It's a common question in the cockpit during a round of self loathing. "Are you going to encourage your kids to work for the airlines?"

There is a lot of complaining in the cockpit and galley. I'm sure all industries have their issues but I can't imagine their workers complain as much as we do. Maybe it's because we have so much downtime in the cockpit to "Monday morning quarterback" company decisions and stir up plans on how we'd make things better if we ran the place. "All hotels would have free breakfast... and good shower pressure."

I knew a guy once who had his non-aviation dad up in the cockpit for a flight. He told him to act like a pilot in front of the passengers so they would think he was just a jumpseater. The story goes that when he boarded the plane he said to the flight attendant, "Yep, scheduling F'ed me over again!"

That's all he knew about airline life.

Would I want my son to work for the airlines? Of course. If he wanted to.

I will do what my father did for me... encourage him to pursue his dreams. I love being a pilot. I couldn't imagine doing anything else. It's all that I've ever wanted to do for a living and honestly, all I know how to do. Although there are many up's and down's (stupid pun) I love it. It's more than a job... it's a lifestyle. A wiser man that me once said, "It's not work if you enjoy what you do." He then added something about things in Vegas staying in Vegas but that's not the point... I think?

As a kid I would always look to planes flying overhead and wonder where the pilots are going. Now I know. The same place they've been a thousand times!

But maybe at least their airline puts them up in hotels that have free breakfast.

If you watch enough daytime TV... you will get cramps

If you watch enough daytime TV... you will get cramps

In the morning we sit on the porch in our jammies and eat breakfast while the morning commuters honk at each other. Eight hours later we eat a snack outside and watch them return. Typically, we take a couple walks a day with one of the dogs and make sure the neighborhood is in check. We watch a little TV... "Two hours a day maximum, either educational or football. So as you don't ruin your appreciation of the finer things."

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Mornings in a Hotel: "Where am I? What Time is it?"

Mornings in a Hotel: "Where am I? What Time is it?"

A friend once told me that everyday he wakes up in a hotel it feels like waking up with a hangover. "I'm not sure where I am or how I got here but at least I have my pants on." Add in the fact that we stay in a variety of hotels with countless floor plans, alarm clock models and coffee makers and sometimes you'd think you were at a bachelor party the night before. Throw in a 4:30am wake up call and that bachelor served nothing but "Mind Eraser" shots followed by Jagermeister to chase is all down with.

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Returning from vacation - time to catch up on the news

Returning from vacation - time to catch up on the news

I returned to work yesterday from a three week vacation with the family. While at work and living on the road I have lots of downtime that I fill with 'entertainment' that I would never make time for at home. Bad movies on cable, aimless walks around Wal-Mart and celebrity gossip magazines.

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