Position: 300 nautical miles west of KBOS (Boston)
Magnetic Heading: 030 degrees (Northeasterly)
Altitude: 35,000 feet
Pax on board: 150
Crew: 7
F.A.A. Inspector: 1
Every seat is full. There is a federal aviation safety inspector in the primary jump seat looking over my shoulder. In the torture seat (the mini-jump seat behind my seat) is a company pilot going to work. The atmosphere in the cockpit is stuffy and cramped; four bodies in a space meant for two. Air traffic control has us on a 030 degree heading for arrival spacing into Boston. The fuel on board is minimum for the miles remaining. Of course it is... I would not expect anything else.
The airline business is in a normal and predictable state of flux,i.e.,the bottom of the ten year sine wave... Sort of like the end of a plague of locust. As always, in this state, there are a lot of pilots that are forced to change aircraft as the seniority list contracts or expands. My co-pilot is brand new on Fi-Fi... actually, the first trip off of training. He has previously flown Boeings for eight years. He is in a state of operational shock. I have seen it many times and experienced it myself years ago. He was supposed to fly the leg to KBOS, but I suggested that I fly it because of the FAA inspector. He was visibly relieved.
Three Hours Earlier...
The Electric Jet is heavy as we taxi for takeoff. The weight and balance folks sent an email with a maximum fuel load at brake release. We might have to wait a few minutes in the holding pad at the end of the runway to burn off excess fuel weight. The wind is blowing steadily at 25 knots with gusts to 40 from the west. The vertical part of the tail is trying to weather vane the aircraft as we taxi south. I need to start number two to help with the taxi, but if I start it early, we will be low fuel at brake release. I estimate we are about number 20 for take-off. This will require perfect timing.
The lead flight attendant calls the flight deck interrupting my mental fuel calculating loop. A passenger has passed out in the rear galley. My first question is why was she out of her seat?
"Sorry, we could not stop her. She said she was going to vomit and was rushing for the lav."
"OK, how is she doing now?"
"She says she had too much to drink last night, but is feeling better. We are giving her water and orange juice."
"Did she hit her head?"
"Maybe."
"I guess I better call the medical services. Go ahead and get her name and address, etc., and slide it under the flight deck door."
To make our phone call, ground control gives us instructions to pull out of the taxi line, accomplish a 90 degree turn and taxi west against the wind. Not going to happen on one engine. We are forced to start number two engine to taxi against the wind, thus burning all of our taxi fuel before take-off. To maintain wings level, I am thinking about Cancun, the wife of my youth in a tiny bikini, and cool ocean breezes.
Once in the holding pad, we shut down both engines and rely on the APU for cabin environmental. I fire up the Mighty I-Phone and call the airline approved medical service to speak to a doctor. How much did she have to drink? Did she hit her head when she passed out? How does she look now? What is her name?
After putting check marks in all the anti-litigation boxes, we are good to go. Our fuel load is at minimum take-off amount, so by the time we reach the end of the runway... No go. I have an idea, though. The Mighty I-Phone punches through the matrix again and reaches my dispatcher. After the mandatory derogatory remarks about each others abilities, we get down to business about the fuel load. I suggest that we cut into the holding fuel of 4,000 pounds for taxi burn. I figure the worst case scenario is that we will shoot the approach once, miss, then go to the alternate of JFK. If we go back to the gate, here, to refuel, it will be hours before we get another slot. My dispatcher is cool with the idea, so we amend the flight plan. He promises he will send Boston ATC arrival rates en route.
Blood pressure going down...
Forty minutes later, we are next for take-off. The Electric Jet has burned through one-third of her Boston holding fuel. The wind sock is standing straight out and perpendicular to the runway as I roll the nosewheels onto the numbers. Early flying habits make me think FLAPS/TRIM/FUEL before I push the thrust levers forward. There is a lot of loose trash blowing across the runway. Both engines come up together and stabilize at about 40%, before I continue the push to the stops for maximum power. The wind requires a lot of rudder and a little bit of aileron to maintain the centerline. Too much aileron will raise the wing spoilers and that is not a good thing on take-off. One hundred knots still requires rudder inputs, but I have taken the ailerons out of the equation. The engines are running cool and strong as we approach take-off speed of 155 knots. The vertical fin is still trying to weather vane as I raise the nose gear free of the runway. When the mains leave the concrete, I release rudder pressure and let her turn into the wind. At 400 feet, I roll into a right bank and steer a 60 degree heading as per the tower's request. Fi-Fi's nose is 18 degrees above the horizon; she is accelerating with the vertical speed indicator buried. I do love this airplane, even if she is a bad girl occasionally.
200 miles west of KBOS...
We are back on track toward KBOS, still at 35,000 feet. The weather is IFR, but not too bad; 600 overcast, 2 miles, and rain with light winds. The co-pilot asked ATC if we could stay at altitude as long as possible for fuel burn (hint, hint). They are working with us... My plan is to do a high dive into KBOS with engines at idle thrust as much as possible. Every 100 pounds of fuel I can save in the descent is 100 pounds we will have to use around the airport for approach vectoring.
Downwind leg...
We are in clouds so thick that we cannot see the wing tips. That is very rare. The forward shields are UP (ice protection). The leading edge wing slats are partially extended as we slow toward flap speed. There are three aircraft ahead of us being vectored toward the radio beam that leads to the runway. The fuel remaining is a little better than I expected for our position in time and space. The FAA inspector is not squirming in his seat. Even so, we will have one shot and only one before we have to bug out for JFK.
Over the Marker Beacon...
The co-pilot moves the landing gear handle to the down position. Fi-Fi starts wiggling side to side as the gear doors open into the slipstream and her long legs begin to extend from her belly. I am holding my breath... Nose gear GREEN/Left main GREEN/Right main GREEN. Yes! I call for flaps to FULL, landing checklist, please... Engines are stable at 38% as we pass 1,000 feet descending on the glideslope. The landing lights are OFF until we break out. They would blind us with the cloud reflection. At 500 feet we can see the strobe lights leading to the end of the runway. At 300 feet, the wet runway is in sight. I ask the co-pilot to turn all the landing lights ON. The brilliant light shafts are full of rain drops rushing toward the aircraft. It is major cool. The co-pilot reaches overhead again and turns our wipers on HIGH as I am shifting my brain into the flare and touchdown loop. It is very easy to lose situational awareness landing in the rain because wet Plexiglas gives an optical illusion of being too high, even with the wipers ON. I keep one eye on the radar altimeter as Fi-Fi settles toward the rain covered runway. At 20 feet, I raise the nose a few degrees and hold it until she gives up and steps onto the runway.
One minute later, we are raising flaps, turning lights OFF, and starting the chronometer for engine cool down as we taxi toward the open gate. It has been a long day. I will be glad to see the hotel room, as strange as that sounds.
Life on the Line continues...
