I passed.

It ended up being a joke, and took only about 10 minutes.

The guy before me took 2 hours. He said it was pretty tough when he got out.

The examiner is a self-proclaimed redneck with cowboy boots. Generally a jolly fellow who appears to have been giving check rides for quite some time. When he met us that morning, he asked if we knew how to spell success. “S-U-C-C-E-S-S,” my classmate said. “Nope. Not even close. S-C-O-T-C-H.”

I started by filling out a weight and balance form from a dispatch release. I realized I’d messed up when I went to plot the CG of the zero fuel weight, and got an index off the chart forward. About that time, the examiner walked back in, looked at me looking at my form, laughed, said, “I know what you did wrong!” “How could you know that quickly?” I asked. “You used basic operating weight in pounds, not adjusted weight units.” I fixed it, and he asked me some questions off the dispatch release. I didn’t know what the first two things he asked about were, but got the rest. He seemed content and got out the study guide I’d made. “Oh, you got my study guide?” I asked. “You made this?” “Yup.” He talked about how it was pretty good. I told him there were a few errors on it, and asked if he wanted an updated copy. “Oh, yes, please!” I emailed it to him right there. “Well, shit, if you made this damn thing there’s no point in me asking you questions off of it. What am I going to ask you now?”

He spent a couple minutes asking me General Operating Manual questions, but after I was able to rattle off the answers quickly, he decided I knew that and went to the walk around slides. There were 160 redundant slides in a power-point presentation. He started going through them. “These slides are bullshit,” he said, “I can’t stand them. 20 pictures of the same damn thing, and it’s not even the right airplane–look that’s a 700.” He stopped at a few points and asked some preflight questions. Asked a lot of questions like, “Can this thing be missing?” To which I answer, “I don’t know, but if it were, I would consult the CDL and notify the Captain.” “Yeah, yeah,” he’d say, interrupting my totally correct but useless answer, “No that thing can’t be missing…. Here, what’s that for?” After another couple minutes of that, he spent awhile printing out paperwork for my training folder, marked me down as “Oral complete,” and sent me home.

Oral Exam Tomorrow

I’ve not been at all worried about this exam up until about, oh, two hours ago. I’m prepared; I don’t know why I’m worried. Maybe something to do with the thousands of pages of material, all of which is fair game, and which I cannot possibly hope to contain in my feeble little brain.

Good pilots deal well with stress. Do I deal well with stress? I don’t know. I’d like to think I do, but the truth is, I don’t think I generally recognize stress, until I’ve been affected for some time. I realized I must be stressed when after reading Jonah’s last post, I wanted to cry. That seems a bit excessive, though she did say she was trying to make it sad.

The nice thing about my exam being scheduled at noon tomorrow is that I don’t have to stay awake all night worrying that if I stay awake I won’t sleep.

It was hot in Phoenix today. High of 90°, with more of the same tomorrow. I guess it’s summer here already. It was nice in the Springs too–I drove to the airport with the top down, and thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s funny, every spring I morn the loss of the winter. I thought perhaps that living in Colorado would cure me of that, but not so far, it’s just made it worse, realizing that all the best snow is gone until October.

In case anyone is interested, it’s permissible to land my aircraft in 0.88 inches of slush. I really would like to know what goes through the minds of the folks who write this stuff.

-2 days

Yesterday, while doing door pulls, I reflected that it really doesn’t seem like it was that long ago I was inside a CRJ in Atlanta operating the emergency exits for flight attendant training. It was pretty much exactly the same drill in Phoenix yesterday except this time I had to show the instructor how to get the door back in because he couldn’t figure it out!

I’ve got two days left of “systems” class, though we pretty much finished reviewing the systems last week. Our test is Friday. I fully expect many of the questions/answers on the test to be completely incorrect, since the slides they showed us in class weren’t correct.

The pilot training scheduler was supposed to give us our schedules either Monday or Tuesday. On Monday we were told it would be Tuesday or Wednesday. 10 minutes before we left today, she came in to tell us she would have them in the morning. This is, of course, what we all expected. She did say that simulator training would almost certainly be in Phoenix, since it seems that Freedom Airlines isn’t approved to do them anywhere else yet, even though Mesa is. She also said that she would try to schedule us for our two days of cockpit systems integration Monday and Tuesday, but that it would probably be a short wait for the sims because she would have to “reschedule Mesa sims from Phoenix to Cincinnati” in order to accomodate us. I’m guessing that means our oral exam will also be next week. It will be nice to get that out of the way if there’s another break– then I don’t have to worry about studying for that just, just going over procedures for the simulator.

I’ve driven to class the last two days. I get to sleep an extra half an hour, listen to my own music, drive with the top down, and as Jonah put it, “Be in control of my own destiny.” That and the girl scout cookies Jonah sent have made me a little less mopey.

One of the annoying things about the area where our training center is located is this. That appears to be a stockyard next to a sewage treatment plant. The training center is in dowisetrepla, baby! It makes the entire training center smell absolutely awful. Amusingly, in that slide, the stockyards are empty. They are not presently empty. Also, if you scroll right, you can see some really weird looking stuff. It’s the General Motors Proving Ground, which is kinda cool. Course, real car companies use the Nurburgring.

The Terrorists Have Won

The terrorists have won. They wanted to disrupt our lives, and they’ve succeeded. They did so by helping creating an organization so mind-numbingly stupefying it’s brought the greatest nation on earth to its knees.

I refer, of course, to the TSA.

First we couldn’t take our fingernail clippers onto planes with us, in case we tried to clip the pilots’ nails. Then all of a sudden it was okay again.

Then some would-be terrorists in Britain heard, probably on a movie, that if you mix some chemicals together, you can create an explosive. They performed a trial run using inert liquid in false bottomed containers, just to make sure they could get away with smuggling them onto a plane, before actually checking to make sure it was actually possible to blow up anything that way. They were caught, and the TSA realized they suddenly had a way to make the lives of ordinary citizens much worse.

They discovered that, while they could no longer take away our fingernail clippers, they could do something even more stupefying. They could confiscate our toothpaste. And our shampoo. And our expensive moisturizers.

Then, instead of relenting like they did when it came to clipping the pilots’ toenails, they decided to do something even more maddening. We were allowed to take our toothpaste on board with us but only if it were in a tiny tube enclosed in a one-quart Ziploc bag.

They claim this is for our safety. Why does this insane rule make us safer? It’s classified information!

The truth is that making explosives from liquid is very, very complicated. And nearly impossible to do on a plane.

What’s worse is the TSA already knows this! This is from the TSA’s brand spankin’ new blog:

The preparation of these bombs is very much more complex than tossing together several bottles-worth of formula and lighting it up. In fact, in recent tests, a National Lab was asked to formulate a test mixture and it took several tries using the best equipment and best scientists for it to even ignite. That was with a bomb prepared in advance in a lab setting. A less skilled person attempting to put it together inside a secure area or a plane is not a good bet. You have to have significant uninterrupted time with space and other requirements that are not easily available in a secured area of an airport. It adds complexity to their preferred model and reduces our risk, having the expert make the bomb and give it to someone else to carry aboard. They are well aware of the Richard Reid factor where he could not even ignite a completed bomb. Simple is truly better for them. Also, bomb-makers are easier for us to identify than so-called clean ‘mules.’

So they know it’s insane but they make us jump through these hoops anyway. The “Shoe Bomber” couldn’t manage to ignite his sneakers, but by golly, we’ve all got to walk through the magnetometer barefoot. The best minds in the best laboratories have a hard time creating explosives from liquids, and yet we can’t take a half empty normal size tube of toothpaste on board? Berck solves that problem by taking six little tubes with him in his one-quart plastic bag.

The fact of the matter is that there will never be another September 11th, at least not when there’s at least one American on board. As soon as someone tries to hijack a plane, every single American on board will jump up and stomp a would-be hijacker to his death. Then they’ll return to their seats, fasten their safety belts, and enjoy the rest of their in-flight movie (provided they shelled out $5 for a pair of crappy headphones). It didn’t take long for us to learn. It only took about half an hour for the passengers on board United Airlines Flight 93 to figure it out and take matters into their own hands.

But instead we are cowed in fear, not that we’ll die in a flaming ball of fire, but that we’ll miss our flight because we forgot a plastic baggie.

Jumpseating

[Note: This entry back-dated.]

Since I got my crew badge, I can theoretically ride in the cockpit of airliners. I got up early yesterday morning and had Jonah drive me to the airport. The weather folks said there was a 100% chance of snow the night before, and it did snow, but not much. I’d been worried that the flight I wanted to get on would be delayed, and at the very least, need de-icing. Turns out the ceiling was 600 feet with 3 miles visibility, which was plenty good enough to take off. Even good enough to land.

The gate agent was very skeptical about my plot, and didn’t seem to understand I didn’t want a seat in the back of the aircraft, but rather *wanted* to ride up front. She finally let me board after everyone else. I asked the flight attendant if I could take a left into the cockpit instead of a right, while showing her my badge. She nodded, and I was surprised to see 4 stripes on the shoulder of the fellow in the right seat. He introduced himself as Mike, and Cindy (who also had 4 bars on her shoulder) was sitting in the left seat. It turned out he’s a check airman. Cindy was completing Captain upgrade IOE (Initial Operating Experience) which explained the plethora of bars in the cockpit.

I stowed my stuff in the cabin, grabbed my sunglasses even though it was overcast with light snow, and plugged in my headset. Cindy briefed me on the cockpit door and oxygen mask, then briefed Mike on the takeoff, who had a few questions. I didn’t catch the whole briefing as I was getting settled, but I gathered that they’d be doing a full power takeoff because of the gusty crosswinds, reported wind shear, and anti-ice bleeds. Cindy headed out and checked the wings one last time to make sure the little bits of snow we’d seen weren’t adhering to the wings at all, otherwise we’d need to deice. There wasn’t, and we all strapped in. The flight attendant closed the main passenger door, and verified with the cockpit that the proximity sensors agreed before she shut the cockpit door. I locked the super-duper-TSA-mandated-terrorist-proof-kevlar door.

We had a substantial tailwind, so they got the ground crew to push us back and aimed the aircraft into the wind before starting an engine. Jet engines don’t like to start when air is going through them backwards. As they started the right engine, I quickly started noticing differences between this CRJ-900 and the CRJ-200 I’d been studying. (The plan is that I do my simulator stuff and check ride in the CRJ-200. Then we’ll get a day of powerpoint presentations about how the bigger aircraft are different, and supposedly that’s enough to teach us to fly it.) I noticed there wasn’t a choice of Ignition A or B, since there were no ignition switches at all, except one for continuous ignition. I figured this meant the computer handled it. The engine spun up very slowly, and while N2 (the core) was over 20%, there was still 0 N1 (which meant the fan wasn’t turning) when they added fuel. It lit off immediately, but took its time spinning up. They remarked it was some of the slowest they’d ever seen it spin up, it was so cold out. The oil temperature was reading -19C and the oil pressure was in the high caution range because, at that temperature, the stuff is sludge. They were about to start the second engine, when ground control advised that we’d have a ground delay, so the pilots elected to not start the second engine for fear of burning too much fuel before we could go. They made an announcement to the passengers and were about to kick back and relax when ATC asked if they’d accept a delay over some intermediate waypoint, and they agreed to that in order to get off the ground ASAP. They started the left engine pronto, but still taxied single-engine until the right one heated up a bit. Mike coached Cindy on taxi technique a bit, since it was still pretty new to her. (Captains do all the taxiing since the steering tiller is on their side.) There’s a lot to it when you’re moving an 86 passenger 90,000lb chunk of metal with wings around.

The takeoff happened a lot faster than I’d expected. I was amazed at how you couldn’t really hear the engines at all. V1, VR and V2 callouts all happened in a blur and we were immediately in the clouds. In what seemed like no time at all, we were in cruise at something like 32,000 ft. I asked quite a few questions once the cockpit workload had gotten reduced to nothing more than answering the occasional radio call and monitoring the autopilot to make sure it wasn’t doing anything stupid. The clouds were gone by the time we got to New Mexico, though the ground was covered in snow. On the way into Phoenix, they showed me how you can use the FMS to tell you how fast you have to descend to make a crossing restriction. We also had a speed restriction, and I asked how they planned to make that, and they showed me how you can insert a waypoint just before the crossing restriction, tell the computer to hit the designated altitude at that waypoint, then you’ve got the space between to slow down to the assigned speed. Nifty stuff.

We were assigned a visual approach into Phoenix, which they backed up with the ILS, and left the autopilot on until a few hundred feet. There wasn’t a lot of drama in the landing, power back to idle about the time the radar altimeter said “Fifty,” just a little bit of a flare instead of flying it all the way into the ground. She made it look awfully easy, but after having seen a couple of fellow newbies do it in the sim, I knew it was going to take a lot of getting used to.

We turned off the runway at what seemed like a million miles an hour, and there wasn’t much traffic as we taxied to the gate. Engines shut down, I opened the cockpit door and thanked them for the ride. I got into the terminal with just enough time to hit the bathroom and get to the gate for a flight going to Yuma just as it was boarding. I’d picked a Yuma flight because it was short and would get me back in time to catch lunch with Todd.

The Yuma trip was about the right length. No real time in cruise, so things were always busy. I helped fill out the trip can as well as make a few radio calls to the company and even made the cabin PA announcement from the cockpit. Despite my endless experience giving PA’s to aircraft cabins, I was strangely nervous about doing it while I couldn’t see the folks I was talking to.

There was no gate assignment coming into Yuma, as there’s only one. The pilots advised that I get off in order to get the gate’s paperwork straight about the return flight. Unfortunately, there’s no way to get off the plane without them making me leave the secured area. And then I had to wait for the TSA to get off their fat lazy asses and open the security checkpoint. Seriously, they only screen passengers about 30 minutes before a scheduled departure, security is “closed” the rest of the time. With 6 of them, it didn’t seem like it would be a huge imposition for a couple of them to screen people all the time. I was not happy, and they demanded to see my boarding pass despite the fact that I had no such thing. Eventually, they let me back through, and I got back on the plane.

Todd and I got pizza for lunch and hung out in his apartment for a few hours before I headed back to the Springs. The aircraft on the flight back had a deferred pack, which meant we were limited to 25,000 ft. That means we used more fuel and took longer to get home (jets are much faster the higher they go, because the air is thinner… thus a given airspeed gives you a much faster speed across the ground). It turns out we had to drop down to 23,000ft due to an Air Force refueling training practice going on in the area.

Jonah picked me up from the airport a little after 9:30pm. It was cold and I was exhausted– and I hadn’t even done anything!