Who's In Charge Here?

Position: KLAX; runway 24 Left

Groundspeed: 0

Radar Altitude: 0

Equipment: A321

Pax-on-Board: 183

Almost airborne... Day two of four.

The KLAX tower controller told us to expect "a minute in position" on the runway. Something is happening in the departure corridor requiring extra spacing. The visibility is about 1/4 mile, less at the end of the runway... Still good to go, though. We can depart with 500 feet horizontal visibility, i.e., not much. It is a typical early morning LAX departure.

Stretch Fi-Fi is heavy with pax, fuel, luggage, mail, and freight. The Michelin Aero main gear tires are bulging under the weight and her wings are sagging from the fuel load. The mighty V2500 engines are rolling over at idle thrust, only sipping the oh-so-precious Jet-A. All systems are in the green. The captain is well rested and nursing a still hot cup of Starbucks strong coffee.

Day two of four... O'Dark Thirty...

My most excellent iPhone 4 sounds the alarm at o'dark thirty, bursting the dream bubble of a Mexican beach with the wife-of-my-youth laying by my side.

It is only another dark hotel room.

OK, now where am I this morning? Concentrate... Come on, you can do it. Oh, yeah... City of Angels. Got in last night; a short one. Nevertheless, got to get moving; lot of miles today.

Day one of four... Check-in...

Uh-oh! There is a note in my mailbox to see the Chief Pilot. I think I know what it is about. One of my flights departed five minutes late because we, rather, I adjusted the crew van departure time to please a flight attendant that insisted the hotel did not know what they were doing concerning travel time to the airport.

"Last week," she said, "We got to the airport thirty minutes early. It was ridiculous. I could have gotten extra sleep."

Actually, as it turned out, the hotel knew exactly what they were doing. Yikes! So, the gate agents wrote me up. Having said that, I realize they are under extreme pressure to get flights out on time. I should have known better.

The Carpet Dance...

It is an assistant Chief Pilot... I know him. This should be a minor two-step event.

ACP- Wanna tell me why were you late pushing out of Indy... Uh, September eight? The gate agents said you guys left the hotel late.

Me- I, uh... Well, I adjusted the crew van time.

ACP- Why?

Me- I thought it was too early. (Does absolutely no good to attempt a blame shift. I know from experience.)

ACP- OK, well I guess it wasn't... I can deflect this one for you, but don't do it again. By the way, have you read the new captain's authority statement in Flight Ops? It's been in the administrative section a couple months.

Me- Yeah, but I'll read it again. (When is the last time I read the administrative section? Hmm, let me think...)

Who's In Charge Here?

Good Lord! It says that the captain must be obeyed! Stand-by one... Let me clean my cheaters. Wow, no weasel words or doublespeak. It also says that procedures or events that are contrary to accepted operating standards should be brought to the captain's attention. If the order remains, it must be obeyed.

I am getting nervous... This is strong stuff! Obviously, something big happened to precipitate this change. Just a wag, but I'll bet it was a near disastrous crew separation... That is New Age speak for an altercation, either verbal or physical, in the flight-deck. Yep, it is extremely rare, but it happens. Not necessarily at my airline, either. Big events at any airline usually change procedures for everyone.

Wait a minute... Here is what the assistant Chief Pilot was hinting about: The captain is in charge of the entire crew during the trip, this includes transportation to and from the lay-over facility. Holy Moly!

So, it seems I am not the only left-seater doing the two-step over this problem, as this was written months ago. I hate to admit it, but I am amazed that I did not know of this regulatory statement. Probably because of years of touchy-feely classes during re-current training, where captains have to sit and take it... Flight attendants telling horror stories of those mean and rascally captains.

The captain must be obeyed... What is going on here? My head is spinning...

The Era of the Great Ones...

I was fortunate to have co-piloted for some of the great Captains. The guys who flew the F-4 Phantom in the vertical against the nimble Migs... The guys who were 22 year old flight engineers on the DC-7 and met the likes of John Wayne, Robert Stack, and Charles Lindbergh in the cockpit during flight. Can you imagine, as a young FE, Charles Lindbergh asking to see your fuel burn logs?

The Great Ones are gone, most of them flown West for the last check-ride. Cockpit Resource Management (CRM; later changed to Crew Resource Management after it was determined cockpit was PC-incorrect) was only a theory then. The Great Ones believed in the concept, but not the method of implementation.

Later, when I moved to the left seat, CRM was coming on strong, by force, if necessary. The captain's authority curve was being flattened. There was no such thing as the captain must be obeyed. Command by committee was not far away.

For reasons known only to the folks on the Top Floor, the winds of command in the cockpit are slowly changing directions.

Day Two of Four... KLAX; 24 Left...

The fog layer is only 700 feet thick. At 1,000 feet, the co-pilot lowers the nose and reduces thrust to climb power. The fuel flow digits roll backwards to settle at 9500 pounds per engine. Visibility is unlimited above the marine layer, with the sun rising in our six.

First stop is KORD (O'Hare), and then on to KPHL (Philly). It is going to be a long day, as there is a lot of weather on the east coast.

Life on the Line continues...

Compass Heading 095

Position: Over Fargo, N.D.
Altitude: 33,000 feet
Groundspeed: 640 mph (556 knots)
Compass Heading: 095 degrees
Equipment: A321
Pax-on-board: 183



Airborne... Day number three of four.

As it was, America remembered the horror of 9-11-01 for a couple of days with news bites of falling human bodies and serious looking reporters walking towards their cameras asking, "Could we have stopped the un-thinkable? Did we do enough?" And then a toothpaste commercial... Oh, well.

Outside: -55 degrees C.
Atmospheric Pressure: 3.9 psi

The moon has just slipped beneath the horizon in our six o'clock. Ahead, a black void; all starlight hidden by thin clouds blown from the tops of gigantic storms in our three o'clock. Even with the flight-deck lights at minimum setting, there is nothing to see outside. It is as if a thick, dark blanket has been spread over the front of the aircraft. The distance to those storms is about 240 miles, measured by Fi-Fi's outstanding weather radar.

Kudos to my dispatcher who flight planned a good trans-con route for us tonight.

The original co-pilot called in sick before report time. The replacement co-pilot is a junior reserve pilot. He has flown twice in sixty days, being the flying pilot on (only) one of those legs. By his own admission, he is rusty. But, we are working on that... He is flying every leg on this trip and I am showing him a few Electric Jet-isms; methods of adjusting the mirrors to gain better vision through the smoke, even when he has not been flying much.

It is difficult to get good rest on these red-eyes, sleeping during the day, then flying back west and trying to sleep at night, and then... Another red-eye the following night. New pilot rest rules are coming out soon. It will be interesting to see what changes with back side of the clock flying.

Until more fuel weight burns off, Fi-Fi is too heavy for anything above 33,000 feet. Thirty knots separates high and low speed regimes... Big load tonight.

Industrial strength flying, as in nothing out of the ordinary happening here, i.e., a standard issue trans-continental flight. With these tailwinds, three more hours before we sleep...


Life on the Line continues...

I Remember

September 11, 2001...

"Honey, wake up! Come on, wake up... An airliner just hit the World Trade Center."

I had been in bed three hours... Had landed at 0230 hrs. I looked at the clock on the bed stand: 0630 hrs.

"What? It wasn't foggy in New York when we took off."

I remember the B-25 that slammed into the Empire State building in thick fog. Could it have happened again?

The phone rings... My brother. The phone rings again... My sister. The phone keeps ringing every few minutes... Where is Dave?

TV on and looking at the size of the hole in the building... Yeah, it was definitely an airliner. I am thinking (very carefully) that those guys were way off the localizer radio beam for KJFK. What could have happened?

A second airliner appears in the top-right corner of my TV screen in a two G turn and slams into the opposite tower. Gut check time...

October 2001...

Holy ground; U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. I am standing next to a WW II torpedo on display in front of a large barracks. It is quiet... No midshipmen, no wind, no birds. The sky is deep blue with scattered clouds moving slowly from the southwest.

I walk to the barracks doors; they are not locked. The brass is polished, so I use a Starbucks napkin I find in my coat pocket to open the door. Inside, you could, if it happened, literally hear a pin drop. Oh, Lord... Nimitz might have lived here. I move carefully and quietly, passing through a shaft of sunlight from a window on the second floor. There is an easel with a large poster board at the bottom of the stairs.

Black and white photos of USNA graduates killed in the attack cover the poster board. I am shocked at the number of faces looking at me.

One of the pilots, a left seater, was a graduate. He was happy when the photo was taken in his airline uniform. The smile is contagious... I start grinning, too.

September 11, 2010...

For some of us, nine years later, Life on the Line continues...

Head of Flight Ops

Position: 200 miles north of LIT (Littlerock VOR)

Altitude: 35,000 feet

Groundspeed: 575 mph (500 kts)

Equipment: 321

Pax count: 178 (5 empty seats)

Fi-Fi was being very bad before push. She was playing hide the stray electron from the captain and two avionics technicians. The nav computers refused to talk to the flight management computers after the inertial units finished their alignment process.

After pulling and re-setting circuit breakers, de-powering the whole electrical system, changing power sources, and secret incantations known only to the few, the techs were scratching their heads and calling for reinforcements from the avionics shop. In the mean time, I was looking through my Secret Book of Electric Jet Knowledge gathered (and hand written) over ten years and thousands of hours in this electronic entity. Finally, the lead avionics tech, via the radio, told my two techs to go into the belly and re-rack a navigation black box with a fifteen digit part number.

After the re-rack, all computers are talking to each other. I wrote the fix and part number in my book... Amazing! I learned something new today, but that is not uncommon in this airplane.

Ten minutes before push...

An expensive suit with a company ID walks into the flight deck and introduces himself as the Head of Flight Operations, i.e., the Chief Pilot's boss... Please tell me this is not happening. I have never seen this guy before, but recognize the name on the ID. It is the first name on the list of administrative phone numbers in the Pilot Manual. Yikes!

He asks, "Hey cap, can I catch a ride? I have a meeting in the morning. I gotta a seat in the back, so I won't be bothering you up here."

"Absolutely! Welcome on board and very nice to meet you, sir." Maybe I should salute this guy. Instead, we shake hands. He pats the co-pilot on the left shoulder saying, "How ya doin?," and then takes his seat in First Class.

I look at the co-pilot and ask, "Why, oh why, does he have to be on our flight?"

I am sure he is a nice guy, but, Good Lord, he is the Head of Flight Ops at the top of the food chain. My young co-pilot looks at me with a who is this guy expression... That gives me an idea. I will have the kid fly this leg. He is a smooth stick and that will leave me free to worry about what we are doing wrong.

120 minutes after take-off...

Down the airway 852 miles... We are making excellent time and will arrive early. The lead flight attendant reports that the Head of Flight Ops has been working on company business the whole flight and is drinking only ice water. She also reports that he is polite.

Two more hours...

240 minutes after take-off...

Hotlanta approach has cleared us to descend to 11,000 feet on the downwind leg. The kid has the spoilers fully extended with the indicated airspeed at 310 knots. The Electric Jet is giving back all the altitude she gained four hours ago. This is going to be a slam-dunk arrival, which, if it is smooth, is OK. He needs to be stabilized over the outer marker with gear and flaps out.

The guy who is in charge of stabilized approaches is sitting in First Class.

Before top of descent, I made a radio call to Atlanta ops and spoke to the station manager whom I know personally, warning her about Head of Flight being on board. We do not need a jet way malfunction on this arrival.

Over the threshold...

The kid has the energy triad (kinetic/potential/chemical) perfectly balanced. At 400 feet, a little inverted red V popped into view on the primary flight display... Tail-strike warning symbol. The 321 tail is way back there. Any more than eight degrees of pitch and you are asking for an aluminum skid mark on the runway in this aircraft. During his approach briefing, the co-pilot assured me he would touchdown at five degrees pitch.

Fifty feet and seven degrees pitch... Twenty feet, engines to idle and he pushes the nose down slightly... Ten feet, five degrees pitch and holding. The inverted red V appears menacing on the flight display. It makes my skin crawl just looking at it.

Touchdown comes slightly after the 1,000 foot aim point... Perfect! The tires slide onto the runway at 140 kts indicated airspeed leaving a cloud of rubber smoke. This landing is excellent, especially considering who is sitting in First Class. The kid is good... I made the correct decision having him fly this leg.

I take the aircraft at taxi speed and turn off the runway calling for flaps UP.

At the gate...

The Head of Flight Ops comes into the flight deck, shakes my hand and compliments the flight and my landing. I tell him the co-pilot was the flying pilot and made the landing... Head of Flight Ops looks at the co-pilot and says, "Oh, well, nice job." Then he pats the co-pilot on the left shoulder again, and leaves.

No screw-ups, not even a little one. Whew!

Life on the Line continues...