the-ca-goat
Dec 28, 02, 10:56 am
Prolegomenon
Unfortunately, you won’t find any mention of fine champagnes, sleeper seats, caviar, state of the art entertainment systems, hot towels or even just a good cup of joe here. There wasn’t even the possibility of mileage accrual on this flight—yikes! Scary, I know.
Well, I’ve probably lost most of my audience by now. So let me tell you one or two remaining gentle readers about my trip.
The aforementioned in-flight services on this flight were made impossible by the fact that the goat was the only soul on board. Yes, that’s right, I flew an airplane all by my lonely self http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif And what’s even better, I lived to tell about it http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif
I wondered if it was appropriate to put this up here, as it really has nothing to do with airline travel. Would I come off as having some sort of gigantic idea of myself to put up wordy prose on the random details of my new flying habits? More importantly, will this be interesting to anyone? Well, to answer the former, I guess I want to be an airline pilot so I might as well get used to feeling high and mighty http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/wink.gif To answer the latter, I did some searching and realized not every report here has been strictly about airline travel, so I’ll try to make this half as entertaining as some of those and give some of you an insight into what it feels like to fly WAY upfront (though unfortunately not on an airliner.) Plus, I haven’t been on a jet for quite some time now, so I’m feeling a little left out by only reading and not writing anything of consequence. Anyway, here it goes:
December 17, 2002
Check-In
I arrived at the airport (http://www.venturatoday.net/santapaulaairport.html), the self-proclaimed antique aircraft capital of the world, (and NW doesn’t even fly here!) in the nick of time and was issued my boarding pass—the key and operating handbook for a mighty Cessna 150, four juliet hotel (http://photos.yahoo.com/bc/thecagoat/vwp?.dir=/My+Photos&.src=ph&.dnm=4JH.jpg) (you may have seen her as the star of the blockbuster hit Emergency Maneuver Training. (http://www.richstowell.com/shop.htm) Scroll down to the second box, she’s the one upside down on the cover.) Check-in at SZP is always smooth, only surpassed in slickness by NW’s online process.
Preflight
After kicking the tires and checking the oil, with a turn of the keys our Teledyne Continental O-200A came roaring to life and took my instructor and me up for a few of loops around the airport. This gave him one final chance to make sure things were set. Indeed they were; so having satisfied any worries my sensei may have had of me leaving a big smoking hole in our lovely city (http://www.ci.santa-paula.ca.us), the self-proclaimed citrus capital of the world, I dropped him off with the rest of the peanut gallery (thanks Mimi, Jon, Marie, and Brendan!) on the edge of the tarmac to witness the momentous event.
The Real Deal
Upon reaching the end of the runway again, I noticed some arriving traffic. There definitely was time to take off before he arrived, though I chose to wait—after all, there’s only one first time, and I wanted relish it like a really good bag of UA savory mix (after not eating for 4 or 5 days.) Plus, the extra minute or two of sitting there gave me the opportunity to reflect on “things”: I had finally made it, the day I’ve anticipated since I was about 2 or 3 years old when I used to stand in my grandparents back yard near MSP and watch all of the old Republic and NW jets so close overhead you could almost touch ‘em. For my whole life I thought I would be nervous today, but I wasn’t; my instructor had prepared me well. And since I wasn’t freaking out, all that was left to do was savor that certain feeling which the French call… oh… I don’t know what. You know, the warm fuzzy happy feeling you get every so often in life—like a kid on Christmas Eve. And, of course, there was also time to leisurely run through emergency checklists, just in case. Goatus semper paratus est.
Anyhow, back to the taxiway. It was cool to watch this guy coming in on his approach—looked like a Delta pilot out of ORF (http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/27/national/27PILO.html?tntemail1). It was pretty obvious that he was a student. His radio calls were amusing and his landings weren’t too hot—-he actually reminded me of myself just a few days earlier. This guy showed me how far I had come. Thanks, buddy. After he cleared the runway, with a push on the throttle and a sign of the cross, I was off. Just before reaching rotation speed, I pulled back ever so slightly on the yoke and waited for that magical number. When she appeared I eased the yoke further back until terra firma was just a fond memory. There was no going back now; HISTORY WAS MADE: I WAS AIRBORNE and no one was there to see the huge smile on my face.
I won’t bore you with all of the minute details of flying a Cessna around the pattern here at SZP; I’ll only bore you with a few of them. It’s quite simple really—though we don’t have the 10 lane freeways to land on that LAX does, we’ve only got about 2400 feet of 40’ wide pavement (which is more than enough for a little Cessna—you might have a problem getting in most of the aircraft you spot at LAX.) Anyhow, my route today had many interesting features. Figuring a picture is worth a thousand words (maybe 2000 of mine), I was going to take pictures for posterity, but decided to fly the plane in lieu of my camera. Here are the highlights, just in case you want to perform a mental simulation:
1) Climb to 500 ft then
2) Aim the plane straight at a large hill and get close enough to make any unfamiliar pax nervous, at which time you turn downwind and fly between said large hill and parallel the runway, while still climbing to 850 ft.
3) Once you’re even with the touchdown point on the runway, you point the plane at a much smaller hill to make unfamiliar pax uncomfortable again, and start descending and then…
4) Turn perpendicular to the runway, keep descending, and turn straight in to the final approach and aim at the numbers, 22 in this case.
5) At this point you make sure your flight attendants are seated (with their seatbelts fastened) and before you know it, you’re on the ground. That's it. Piece of cake.
Pictures would have been better, I know.
Nevertheless, I’ll say that on this trip around I had set up my approach well and achieved a decent descent rate and super speed on my final—things were looking good for a stellar first landing. Passing over the runway threshold, I delicately coaxed the plane to the ground for what would be just an okay landing: not the best, but definitely not the worst this asphalt had ever seen. I taxied off the runway, past the teeming hoard of cheering crowds that had amassed, and went up and down twice more.
Post Flight
After the third and final landing, I taxied 4JH to her parking spot and was greeted by a smiling instructor with a camera, posed for a quick picture, and then took in the celebration he planned: the Santa Paula Mayor (apparently Rudi Giuliani couldn’t make it) presented me with a chilled bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee while the girls of the 2002 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue sang the Alleluia Chorus from Handel’s Messiah and the Blue Angels buzzed the field in formation. Thanks Eric!
Okay, maybe I’m taking a little literary license for dramatic flair here. Though it was for your benefit, as all of that extravagance would have been wasted on me—I couldn’t have been much happier than I was. Actually in real life, the celebration was quite nearly that good. I was the recipient of an “I soloed at Santa Paula Airport” coffee mug and got my tie cut off. As an added bonus, my instructor coolly let me know that Indiana Jones was in his plane just a few feet away and had followed me in on one of my landings. No Joke. Too bad I didn’t recognize his voice when I was talking to him on the radio; I could have come up with something slightly cleverer to say than just the standard old radio call. That would have topped things off nicely. Though I’m not too quick on my toes with that sort of thing, so it was probably better I didn’t have the opportunity to make a fool of myself.
Lest you think that the fun stopped at the airport, I’ll continue with the day’s events. When we (1/2 of the peanut gallery and myself) returned to work, I found out that my boss had authorized a purchase requisition for chocolate cake and champagne, not Krug but good enough. (I guess I lied, there is some bubbly in this TR!) Going back to work after flying is usually dreadful, and this time doubly so—that is until I got to sit around and drink with my office chums…and begin the bacchanalian cum yuletide blur that has been the last week or so of my existence. Life is good.
I suggest trying a flight lesson or two to anyone who feels a need to break up the ennui of riding in the back, even if “the back” for you happens to be int’l F or J class. It’s really much more fun and just as costly http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif
Merry Christmas and a high-flying and prosperous New Year to all.
[This message has been edited by the-ca-goat (edited 12-28-2002).]
Unfortunately, you won’t find any mention of fine champagnes, sleeper seats, caviar, state of the art entertainment systems, hot towels or even just a good cup of joe here. There wasn’t even the possibility of mileage accrual on this flight—yikes! Scary, I know.
Well, I’ve probably lost most of my audience by now. So let me tell you one or two remaining gentle readers about my trip.
The aforementioned in-flight services on this flight were made impossible by the fact that the goat was the only soul on board. Yes, that’s right, I flew an airplane all by my lonely self http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif And what’s even better, I lived to tell about it http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif
I wondered if it was appropriate to put this up here, as it really has nothing to do with airline travel. Would I come off as having some sort of gigantic idea of myself to put up wordy prose on the random details of my new flying habits? More importantly, will this be interesting to anyone? Well, to answer the former, I guess I want to be an airline pilot so I might as well get used to feeling high and mighty http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/wink.gif To answer the latter, I did some searching and realized not every report here has been strictly about airline travel, so I’ll try to make this half as entertaining as some of those and give some of you an insight into what it feels like to fly WAY upfront (though unfortunately not on an airliner.) Plus, I haven’t been on a jet for quite some time now, so I’m feeling a little left out by only reading and not writing anything of consequence. Anyway, here it goes:
December 17, 2002
Check-In
I arrived at the airport (http://www.venturatoday.net/santapaulaairport.html), the self-proclaimed antique aircraft capital of the world, (and NW doesn’t even fly here!) in the nick of time and was issued my boarding pass—the key and operating handbook for a mighty Cessna 150, four juliet hotel (http://photos.yahoo.com/bc/thecagoat/vwp?.dir=/My+Photos&.src=ph&.dnm=4JH.jpg) (you may have seen her as the star of the blockbuster hit Emergency Maneuver Training. (http://www.richstowell.com/shop.htm) Scroll down to the second box, she’s the one upside down on the cover.) Check-in at SZP is always smooth, only surpassed in slickness by NW’s online process.
Preflight
After kicking the tires and checking the oil, with a turn of the keys our Teledyne Continental O-200A came roaring to life and took my instructor and me up for a few of loops around the airport. This gave him one final chance to make sure things were set. Indeed they were; so having satisfied any worries my sensei may have had of me leaving a big smoking hole in our lovely city (http://www.ci.santa-paula.ca.us), the self-proclaimed citrus capital of the world, I dropped him off with the rest of the peanut gallery (thanks Mimi, Jon, Marie, and Brendan!) on the edge of the tarmac to witness the momentous event.
The Real Deal
Upon reaching the end of the runway again, I noticed some arriving traffic. There definitely was time to take off before he arrived, though I chose to wait—after all, there’s only one first time, and I wanted relish it like a really good bag of UA savory mix (after not eating for 4 or 5 days.) Plus, the extra minute or two of sitting there gave me the opportunity to reflect on “things”: I had finally made it, the day I’ve anticipated since I was about 2 or 3 years old when I used to stand in my grandparents back yard near MSP and watch all of the old Republic and NW jets so close overhead you could almost touch ‘em. For my whole life I thought I would be nervous today, but I wasn’t; my instructor had prepared me well. And since I wasn’t freaking out, all that was left to do was savor that certain feeling which the French call… oh… I don’t know what. You know, the warm fuzzy happy feeling you get every so often in life—like a kid on Christmas Eve. And, of course, there was also time to leisurely run through emergency checklists, just in case. Goatus semper paratus est.
Anyhow, back to the taxiway. It was cool to watch this guy coming in on his approach—looked like a Delta pilot out of ORF (http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/27/national/27PILO.html?tntemail1). It was pretty obvious that he was a student. His radio calls were amusing and his landings weren’t too hot—-he actually reminded me of myself just a few days earlier. This guy showed me how far I had come. Thanks, buddy. After he cleared the runway, with a push on the throttle and a sign of the cross, I was off. Just before reaching rotation speed, I pulled back ever so slightly on the yoke and waited for that magical number. When she appeared I eased the yoke further back until terra firma was just a fond memory. There was no going back now; HISTORY WAS MADE: I WAS AIRBORNE and no one was there to see the huge smile on my face.
I won’t bore you with all of the minute details of flying a Cessna around the pattern here at SZP; I’ll only bore you with a few of them. It’s quite simple really—though we don’t have the 10 lane freeways to land on that LAX does, we’ve only got about 2400 feet of 40’ wide pavement (which is more than enough for a little Cessna—you might have a problem getting in most of the aircraft you spot at LAX.) Anyhow, my route today had many interesting features. Figuring a picture is worth a thousand words (maybe 2000 of mine), I was going to take pictures for posterity, but decided to fly the plane in lieu of my camera. Here are the highlights, just in case you want to perform a mental simulation:
1) Climb to 500 ft then
2) Aim the plane straight at a large hill and get close enough to make any unfamiliar pax nervous, at which time you turn downwind and fly between said large hill and parallel the runway, while still climbing to 850 ft.
3) Once you’re even with the touchdown point on the runway, you point the plane at a much smaller hill to make unfamiliar pax uncomfortable again, and start descending and then…
4) Turn perpendicular to the runway, keep descending, and turn straight in to the final approach and aim at the numbers, 22 in this case.
5) At this point you make sure your flight attendants are seated (with their seatbelts fastened) and before you know it, you’re on the ground. That's it. Piece of cake.
Pictures would have been better, I know.
Nevertheless, I’ll say that on this trip around I had set up my approach well and achieved a decent descent rate and super speed on my final—things were looking good for a stellar first landing. Passing over the runway threshold, I delicately coaxed the plane to the ground for what would be just an okay landing: not the best, but definitely not the worst this asphalt had ever seen. I taxied off the runway, past the teeming hoard of cheering crowds that had amassed, and went up and down twice more.
Post Flight
After the third and final landing, I taxied 4JH to her parking spot and was greeted by a smiling instructor with a camera, posed for a quick picture, and then took in the celebration he planned: the Santa Paula Mayor (apparently Rudi Giuliani couldn’t make it) presented me with a chilled bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee while the girls of the 2002 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue sang the Alleluia Chorus from Handel’s Messiah and the Blue Angels buzzed the field in formation. Thanks Eric!
Okay, maybe I’m taking a little literary license for dramatic flair here. Though it was for your benefit, as all of that extravagance would have been wasted on me—I couldn’t have been much happier than I was. Actually in real life, the celebration was quite nearly that good. I was the recipient of an “I soloed at Santa Paula Airport” coffee mug and got my tie cut off. As an added bonus, my instructor coolly let me know that Indiana Jones was in his plane just a few feet away and had followed me in on one of my landings. No Joke. Too bad I didn’t recognize his voice when I was talking to him on the radio; I could have come up with something slightly cleverer to say than just the standard old radio call. That would have topped things off nicely. Though I’m not too quick on my toes with that sort of thing, so it was probably better I didn’t have the opportunity to make a fool of myself.
Lest you think that the fun stopped at the airport, I’ll continue with the day’s events. When we (1/2 of the peanut gallery and myself) returned to work, I found out that my boss had authorized a purchase requisition for chocolate cake and champagne, not Krug but good enough. (I guess I lied, there is some bubbly in this TR!) Going back to work after flying is usually dreadful, and this time doubly so—that is until I got to sit around and drink with my office chums…and begin the bacchanalian cum yuletide blur that has been the last week or so of my existence. Life is good.
I suggest trying a flight lesson or two to anyone who feels a need to break up the ennui of riding in the back, even if “the back” for you happens to be int’l F or J class. It’s really much more fun and just as costly http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif
Merry Christmas and a high-flying and prosperous New Year to all.
[This message has been edited by the-ca-goat (edited 12-28-2002).]