Right on Delta, Left on Echo, Hold Short 15 Left at Tango

Position: Toronto/Pearson International; runway 24 Right
Time: 2305 local
Passengers on Board: 147
Brake Temperature: Left 110 C/Right 85 C and rising




The co-pilot made a nice landing in the touchdown zone five minutes ahead of schedule. At 40 knots, he asked me if I was ready to take control. We made a smooth transition with no brake grabbing or nose wheel dancing. The tower instructed us to contact ground control. Clear of the runway, the co-pilot raised the flaps; I stowed the thrust reversers and turned OFF all the unnecessary lights.

The ground controller, in a cheery mood, told us to turn right on Delta, left on Echo, hold short 15 Left at Tango. That is pilot/controller speak for taxi instructions to the gate. The co-pilot read it back carefully as I was scribbling the same directions with my secret, left-handed shorthand on the trip sheet. Toronto is what I refer to as a technical taxi airport. It is a term of my own making and I mostly apply it to huge airports that I visit one time per month or less. Toronto is a very large airport with a complex taxiway system.

If we are at such an airport, I ask the co-pilot to "stay with me on the taxi." I tell him what I am going to do before I do it, i.e., right turn/left turn/stopping/crossing a runway, etc. Imagine crossing a runway in front of an accelerating, heavily loaded airliner with no chance of stopping... Forty tons of kerosene and 250 passengers two seconds from impact. I can barely think about it.

My biggest fear in this life is harming or killing passengers and I believe airport surface operations are the most likely location for that to happen. In my opinion, it is only a matter of time before a big, make that really big, event happens at one of our airports. My number one goal in this crazy aviator's life is to not be one of the captains in the coming catastrophe. Seems simple enough in concept... I hope. Sometimes, a mild state of paranoia is in order.

The controller clears us to cross runway 15 Left. We look both directions before moving across to the relative safety of the ramp, er, I meant apron. The apron controller clears us to the gate. We see our rampers in perfect position with wands raised high. The lead-in ramper must be ex-military; his arm motions are done with precision. OK, I need to taxi with equal precision. The nosewheel tires have got to be equi-distance from both sides of the yellow stripe. I can do that when I am motivated. I line up the right side of one of the cathode ray tubes with the left side of the yellow stripe outside. Perfect... Brakes set, fuel cut-off switches OFF.

Life on the Line continues...

Crew Meal

Position: CYEG (Edmonton); three down and locked/flaps full
Weather conditions: Light rain, calm winds, 15 degrees C., viz 5 miles.
Passengers on board: 122
Time: 0029 hrs. local

2335 hrs...
It has been one of those nights. My co-pilot, a 29 year old male, became violently ill about 45 minutes after eating his crewmeal. Luckily, I did not eat mine because I purchased a sandwich from an airport vendor before take-off. Even though my crewmeal was different, they came from the same catering company. The co-pilot has made repeated trips to the forward lav... I will spare the details. Thankfully, my cabin crew consists of three hardened air-combat veterans with more than 75 years of combined seniority. In the old days we referred to them as senior sky mommas, but that term is politically incorrect today. The aforementioned three still like pilots, which in itself is miraculous. For the past 90 minutes, they have been coordinating the co-pilot's lav visits. The lead flight attendant gave him some Imodium a few minutes ago. We are hoping that will calm him down for the approach and landing.

2345 hrs...
While the co-pilot is in the forward lav, I ask the lead flight attendant if there are any deadheading company pilots, just in case. None. Of course not. The Canadian ATC controller clears us to descend to 30,000 feet for crossing traffic. I write the altitude on a piece of scrap paper; set the altitude into the auto-pilot, look away for a second, then double check 3-0-0-0-0. Yep, that will do it; push the descend button and down we go. When the non-flying pilot is out of the flight deck, caution is the name of the game.

Midnight...
The co-pilot is hanging in there. He is constantly apologizing for being sick. I ask him why he is apologizing. His skin is clammy and he looks miserable... Poor kid. ATC clears us for the descent into CYEG about 100 miles south of the airport. The weather is marginal visual flight rules. Due to the condition of the co-pilot, I am planning an instrument approach to be on the safe side.

0010 hrs...
"Dave, I'm sorry, but I've got to go back again." I looked at the altimeter- 20,000 feet and descending. I tell him, "No problem. Do you think you can be here for the approach?" He assured me he would not be long. Two of the flight attendants, once again, whisked him to the forward lav. He was apologizing to them as he went back. The lead flight attendant plops down in his seat laughing. She says, "That poor kid. He is puking his guts out." I cannot help but to remember the scene in the movie Airplane where the captain looks down at his crewmeal on the cockpit floor when he finds out that the fish is making everyone sick.

0020 hrs... 12,000 feet above the ground...
The co-pilot is still in the lav and Fi-Fi is not far from the IAF (initial approach fix). My lead flight attendant is sitting in the co-pilot's seat. I ask her to read me the pre-approach checklist. If the co-pilot does not come back to the flight deck shortly, I will be forced to declare an emergency. Not because of operational considerations, but from administrative demands; situation out of the ordinary, i.e., a paper trail of considerable length.

0025 hrs... 7,000 feet above the ground...
My young co-pilot is back in his seat, strapped in and apologizing. I tell him not to worry about it; everything is cool. I reach over my head and push three buttons which activate the forward shields (engine and wing anti-icing). Fi-Fi's flight-control computers have switched to the approach mode and are trading ones and zeros at an increased tempo. The co-pilot looks as if he is thinking about puking. I tell him to use the garbage bag, it will save a lot of paperwork. He assures me he can make it to the gate.

0029 hrs... FAF (final approach altitude verification fix)...
Gear down, flaps full, engines stabilized, landing checklist complete and cleared to land CYEG. I ask the co-pilot, "You gonna make it?" He replies,"Yeah, it comes in waves but I'm OK for now." At a thousand feet we see the approach lights; the outside air temperature is now above freezing; forward shields OFF. The runway lights come into view at 800 feet. The co-pilot is visibly relieved; bed time soon.

0038 hrs... crossed light wands at the gate...
Parking brake SET, fuel cut-off switches OFF. OK, we made it to the gate. The co-pilot has survived the crewmeal, thus far no paper trail required.

0055 hrs... hotel van...
The co-pilot is in the men's room dry heaving while we wait in the hotel van. The lead flight attendant suggests we put him in the back row of seats with a trash bag for the ride to the hotel. Sounds reasonable to me. I might have to take him to the hospital this morning, anyway.

0130 hrs... hotel...
We get the co-pilot to his room and tell him if he needs to go to the hospital, it is mandatory that one of us go with him, preferably the captain, as per the ops manual. He says he will be OK after he gets some shut-eye. Then he says he will never, ever eat another crewmeal. Ever...

Roger that. Life on the Line continues...

Random Line Check

Position: Over the threshold; KABQ (Albuquerque)
Passengers on board: 87
Time: 0900 hrs local

We hit the deck at o'dark hundred this morning in LAX for an o'dark thirty push. Five legs today and this is leg number two. My co-pilot is not new to the airline, but is new to Fi-Fi. He previously flew Boeings for ten years. He is in a state of shock. His mind is asking, "Who designed this airplane? Why? What have I got myself into?" Fi-Fi can, make that will, be a very bad girl if she knows that you are new to her ways. She will find out quickly by the way you handle her electrons. Oh, yes...

As the captain, I have to draw the line between micro-managing and keeping my mouth shut when I see Fi-Fi about to pull one of her tricks. Usually, unless it is a safety issue or will scare the passengers, it is better to let a new Fi-Fi pilot get bit and learn the hard way. It falls under the category of, "Well, I bet you won't do that again." There are few things more annoying than a captain telling you how to fly when you are really, really busy trying to fly.

During the quick stop in Phoenix, I was on my way to Starbucks when a check airman walked up to me and announced, "Hi Captain, you have been selected for a random line check." I looked at him and thought yeah, right. This is a dream and I will wake up in a few seconds. I keep looking at him... He is still there and not fading away. Uh-oh, this could be real. A random line check is, well, random. I am still good with my annual line check, not due again until February. I decided to try verbal maneuvering with, "Hey, listen, my co-pilot is new on the plane and we are working on a few problems. You know how it goes. Can you pick another crew for a checkride?"

"Sorry, when your name comes up, thats it. I need to see you fly the leg to Albuquerque; the co-pilot flys back." It was worth a try...

Carrying two scalding hot coffees into the flight deck, I told the co-pilot the news. He said, "OK, but you can fly both legs, right?" I had to laugh at that, and then told him not to worry because, "I have a plan. We'll talk about it in Albuquerque while we are getting our green-chili soup. You will be fine."

Seventy-five minutes later, with the engines at idle thrust, I am bringing The Electric Jet down out of the cold blue through the approach gate west of Albuquerque. I am high and fast, as planned, but will use two 45 degree turns to dump excess energy before merging with the final approach path. When I am using gravity for my motive force, I like to carry excess energy for course or altitude corrections.

Albuquerque approach control clears us for the visual approach to runway 8.

Auto-pilot OFF, auto-thrust OFF, flight directors OFF, roll into a 30 degree left bank and deploy the wing spoilers full UP. Yeah, I'm hot dogging a little bit. A good nights sleep and Starbucks will do that to you. The wings are rumbling as the spoilers rise to max extension. After 45 degrees of turn, roll into a right 30 degree bank and turn toward the final approach path. We are shedding altitude rapidly. The sun is low on the eastern horizon and casting moving shadows in the flight deck as we turn and burn toward the airport.

Albuquerque tower, ever friendly controllers, clears us to land, and then asks, "How's your morning going?"

We are approaching the final approach fix at a thirty degree angle, engines still at idle thrust. Three miles from the five mile fix, we start configuring for landing.... Landing gear DOWN, flaps and slats EXTEND, landing checklist COMPLETE. The extra drag from the gear and flaps slows us to approach speed as we pass over the fix in a 20 degree bank fully configured. My right hand moves the thrust levers forward to about 35% thrust to maintain speed. I do not have to look at the engine guages; I can feel 35% in my gut. Little adrenalin spurts are hitting my system making the smile on my face big enough to hurt.

It is a beautiful, clear and calm morning in Albuquerque as we taxi into the gate and shut down. The co-pilot and I hot foot it to the green-chili soup place, a mandatory stop for all air crews. He says,"You make it look so easy." I reply,"Well, you have thirty hours in Fi-Fi; I've got thousands. It will get easier. Don't worry."

We make a plan for the return trip. To keep things going smoothly for the check airman, I will help him along under the guise of a review of the differences between The Electric Jet and the Boeing, sort of like we were talking about it before, but got interrupted by the check ride. If I see a Fi-Fi-ism coming, I will start talking. He likes the idea.


It worked perfectly. The return leg was pretty much problem free until we were approaching the Phoenix airport. All new A319/320 pilots have trouble with the managed engine thrust system for awhile. It took me 1,000 flight hours before I fully understood it. And it is not something easily explained, i.e., you have to see it react to different situations on the Line. Most of the problems come during the descent and approach phases where a lot of things are happening at once, i.e., multi-tasking. So, with a few round about hints from me, the co-pilot was able to perform satisfactorily for the check airman. Leg number three complete; two to go.

Life on the Line continues...