Position: On the ramp, KLAS
Equipment: A320 V2500 A-5 engines
The first hints of twilight in the east... Above my head, a magnificent aluminum and carbon-fiber aircraft tail arching high into the lightening sky. Looking straight up, Orion the Hunter is still visible. To me, that translates to snow and ice, i.e., wintertime operations just around the corner.
The wind is whipping my tie uncontrollably. I have tried to stop it, but it is useless. I let it whip. I am holding my hat in place with one hand and shining a flashlight on Fi-Fi with the other looking for dents, ripped tires, leaks, gear-pins still installed, oxygen discs in place, fire extinguisher discs in place, static wicks, clear static ports, open pitot tubes, and on the list goes...
I won the early morning Starbucks coin flip. I would much rather pre-flight than stand in-line waiting for coffee and trying to remember the New Age drink orders from the flight attendants... Green tea light with two pumps, white cinnamon, two sweeteners, and skim, or something like that, and that is for the lead flight attendant. The remaining two are even more complicated. The co-pilot can handle it... He's a sharp young man two weeks out of the Electric Jet training machine.
The sound of large jet engines at take-off thrust... A company A320 is lifting its nose gear clear of runway 1-Right. I can see the heat plumes blasting out of the engines along with feeling the roaring thrust in my chest... It is a good feeling.
The beautiful aircraft rises into the sky, nose rising to a steep angle while briefly outlined by the lights of the casinos. In a few seconds it is banking 30 degrees toward the east, heading for the sunrise. The climb rate is fantastic... I can see the vertical speed indicator in my mind's eye. It is, more or less, awesome.
Underneath our right wing, a fuel truck is hooked up and pumping Jet-A. The fueler is standing by the open fuel panel in the right wing root watching the green digits increase. A familiar female ramp-lead and four rampers are throwing bags onto two conveyor belts aimed at the open cargo bays. Two long baggage trains are being emptied.
On the other side of the tail, a catering truck is re-stocking the galleys through cabin door 2-L. I glance at my pilot chronometer that I can't read anymore without geezer glasses, but can still see the hand position... The ducks are lining up on schedule. Captain Dave's world is reasonably stable thirty minutes before sunrise.
"Brakes released... Cleared to push."
The large diesel powered tug begins to shove on the Electric Jet; I salute the gate supervisor in the jetway and she gives me a thumbs up. Ramp-lead, pushing on my nose gear, says, "Cap, cleared to turn number one."
I ask the co-pilot to throw a match into number one, and then open my side Plexiglas sliding window about an inch. A rushing sound of high pressure air fills the cockpit. The pneumatic starter motor of the left (#1) IAE V-2500 A-5 engine starts turning the N2 section. It is one of the most satisfying sounds to my soul... Hard to explain; it's a pilot thing.
The rushing sound grows in intensity as the starter motor spins the mighty A-5 engine faster and faster... I watch the engine instruments.
Igniters, fuel flow, and temperature rise happen about the same moment with a muffled whoof and then a guttural low-pitched whine quickly rising in intensity... Light off, baby!
I close the side window and lock it... I have received my morning fix of turbine ecstasy. Yeah!
Windsock...
KLAS tower has cleared us for take-off, runway 1-Right. The sun, streaming orange light through the co-pilot's side window, is about five degrees above the horizon. I am looking for a windsock but cannot find one. Oh well... The tower controller told us the wind direction and velocity with the take-off clearance. Good enough...
A quick glance at the handwritten note I made myself for engine failure... Reaching 4.3 miles from the Las Vegas VOR, bank right back to the VOR and enter holding with a direct entry; retract flaps at 3,181 feet. I add that to my bucket of paranoia before the thrust levers are moved.
On this lovely Sunday morning, 150 souls are counting on two pilots in the pointy-end to deliver them safely to KBOS.
150 miles down the airway...
The Electric Jet levels at 35,000 feet 150 miles east of KLAS. The flight plan TOC (top-of-climb) fuel load is within 200 pounds of the actual fuel-in-tanks. That is a good thing... Calls for a TOC sip of Starbucks French roast (bold).
The flight-plan time enroute does not agree with Fi-Fi nav calculations. I push the AIRPORT button on the left nav computer and look at the arrival into KBOS. I can see 60 miles of course line that we will not be flying. I know this from KBOS experience. I will have the co-pilot take the excess mileage out later.
Training...
The airline is currently training a lot of new Electric Jet pilots, both seats. I can fly for years without seeing an inexperienced co-pilot, and then the worm turns. This kid is the fourth newbie I have had in a short time. It forces me to be on my game... No slacking or whining as I tend to do with an experienced co-pilot.
The first few months out of training is critical to understanding the ways of this remarkable electronic entity. It is not fair to burden them with extraneous nonsense of the Line. Instead, I have been showing him a few of my smoke and mirror management techniques that new Fi-Fi pilots can use to ease themselves into the matrix without too much embarrassment.
Fi-Fi can be very frustrating to a new pilot when the expected reaction goes off on a wild tangent or does not happen at all. There are work arounds to such problematic areas... Isolate it and apply manual flight techniques until you understand what the automation is trying to do.
Then and only then, start applying digital magic to the procedure until you have mastered it. Never, ever let automation overwhelm your airmanship. I see it again and again... Automation is your friend, not your master.
Speed...
Outside, a micro-thin layer of cirrus clouds a few feet above us... The top of the tail is probably slicing it like a 450 knot knife blade. The sensation of speed is amazing as the super thin cloud layer rushes past the top of the aircraft. Whoa! Look at that! We are packin' the mail... Literally.
Calls for another sip of Starbucks French roast (bold). I would estimate the in-cup temperature at about 110 degrees. Maybe another 30 minutes of drink time before it is too cool.
Auto-pilot #2...
What was I thinking earlier? If I get overheated I might pop a circuit breaker. I reach up to the a/p selector and push auto-pilot #2.
Fi-Fi accepts the command... Auto-pilot #1 turns OFF with a clack and auto-pilot #2 takes over the aircraft. I look at the co-pilot... "Your aircraft."
I feel better... Life on the Line continues...
