Ice World, Part two...

Position: Waiting in line at the ice house, KJFK (Kennedy)...

The fuel load does not include de-ice wait time because it was not in the forecast. So (of course)now we are waiting in line (with both engines shut down) at the ice house (in the snow) with about 20 other airliners. The good news is that we are next. To save fuel I tried taxiing on one engine, but it is too slippery, i.e., the aircraft tries to slide on the snow with the thrust vector. We are burning about 33 pounds per minute while the engines are running and there is about 1,000 pounds of fuel that I can shuffle and/or steal from the flight plan before we reach the minimum take-off fuel, aka brake release fuel. Even my feeble mind can understand that is thirty minutes. I keep recycling the numbers hoping they will change, but they do not. My mind will not let go, so I move it to the back section of my brain where I stack wooden blocks and let it run a continuous loop. Most pilots are good at compartmentalizing mental tasks.

I guesstimate 15 minutes to de-ice and 30 minutes before take-off. That leaves a 15 minute deficit. This is a problem. The obvious questions are:

1. Why did we not upload more fuel before we left the gate? Because we are at maximum take-off weight for this flight plan. More fuel would require a new flight plan, removal of freight and/or passengers, the loss of our departure slot, plus the wait for the fuel truck is usually 30-45 minutes.

2. Can we land and refuel in the Midwest? Well, yes, but not on this flight plan. You have to be released to the destination, i.e., you cannot take-off with less fuel than necessary to reach the flight planned destination. A new flight plan to land in the Midwest would require de-fueling the aircraft so as not to be overweight for landing, loss of slot, unknown wait on de-fueling truck, which is a different truck than the fueling truck.

3. Can we take-off with minimum fuel to destination, then (oops!) divert to re-fuel? Technically, yes. The problem with this is landing weight. If low fuel rears its ugly head before the destination, you must divert, but in our case we would be too heavy to land. This requires holding over the diversion until enough fuel has been burned off so you can land and get more fuel. What? I look at this as sloppy airmanship.

The solution to this problem is burning as little fuel as possible on the ground and then, once airborne, getting creative. My dispatcher, an old pal and partner in crime, i.e., "Can we talk on an unrecorded line?"is getting creative on his end with winds and altitudes. Earlier, he told me the winds aloft were Jovian-like in a 300 mile section of the route, alien velocities from the west and we are going to punch through them with ground speeds of 270 knots or less, but burning fuel for 450 knots. Yikes!

20 minutes later...

We are dripping anti-icing fluid as we slowly move toward the end of the runway. The snow fall is morphing into ice crystals moving horizontally. The co-pilot counts six tails ahead in the murkiness. I am moving the aircraft forward with number one engine only. There is enough de-icing fluid on the taxiway to allow the tires to grip the cold concrete, barely. The fuel calculation loop running in my brain is relentless. I do not think we are going to make the end of the runway with enough fuel. I am reasonably sure of this... The mini-printer is heating up; my dispatcher and I are killing trees as we email back and forth every few minutes. Earlier, we took care of the compulsory insults about heritage, abilities, and rumors about wives; now it is strictly flight planning business. One departure, one arrival, one departure, one arrival; we are number four. The co-pilot says we need to throw a match in number two.

Both engines are running, checklists complete; we are next and at minimum fuel for departure. Before we can take-off, an airport vehicle wants to check the runway for debris... Why does this not surprise me? My little red flashing light was correct. We are BINGO fuel. A quick email to dispatch- Bingo fuel. Take-off in three minutes. Any ideas? Looking over my left shoulder I see a line of aircraft, all shiny with de-icing fluid, fading away in the low visibility. If we have to go back for fuel, it is over with, i.e., cancelled. In less than 30 seconds I get a reply: Cruise altitude of 34,000 feet will give us another 200 pounds of taxi fuel. You OK with that/ if so amend the flight plan.

You the man! Push send button... We move onto the runway with minimum fuel and maximum weight.

One Hour Down the Airway...

One hour after take-off sees 250 nautical miles behind us. A "normal" first hour usually puts about 370 to 400 miles behind the aircraft. The winds aloft are formidable; more than 190 knots on the nose. My dispatcher assures me they are decreasing as we fly westbound. The scary thing is that the air mass is smooth. How can that be? Nose forward in a 218 mph wind and not a ripple. Don't think about it...

Three Hours Down the Airway...

The headwind is only 100 knots. We are getting close to the halfway point in time remaining. We must land with a 45 minute fuel reserve to stay legal. My calculations with pencil and hand calculator are showing 50 minutes. Fi-Fi's nav computers are showing 55 minutes but she does not know (for sure) what to expect from approach control. I am, more or less, certain on the route for the last 100 miles. I am going with my figures; five minute buffer before massive paperwork exercise required.

Five Hours Fifty Minutes... Touchdown

The main gear tires take the weight from the wings as we get with the stopping program. There is four minutes of fuel remaining before burning into the reserve. The airline, in the Flight Crew Operations Manual, states this kind of fuel planning shows Good Judgement.

I am reminded of a long gone captain telling me that:

Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement.

Amen, brother... Life on the Line continues.