Page 24 - Volume 19 Number 11

From the Flight DeckScent of a SimulatorThey scurry around the lobby for the free hot breakfast before their scheduled pick-up time to the flight academy. Even in civilian clothing, you can tell they’re pilots and not normal guests: we all look alike, even the ladies, and even without a kit-bag. It was that way in the military too. Unless you’ve worked for a Part 121 operation and have been through the ritual of training, over-and-over-and-over, it may be difficult to relate to the stress and moderately-unpredictable nature of the arduous ordeal. It’s like a flight physical: you can’t win, only break even. I sat outside as the sun came up, after my free hot breakfast (for which I did not scurry), writing this article and enjoying a coffee. I watched as the pilots reluctantly, solemnly and silently boarded the shuttle to the flight academy to be tortured, I mean trained – poor bastards. The day begins with the sound of the cargo and passenger doors slamming closed and the rough driving technique of the hotels non-CDL drivers. The ride is eerily quiet, as if the pilots are a group of puppies, whimpering softly with darting eyes as they are driven to the vet – trying to not wet the seat. It’s that bad. You don’t see many of them with tongues hanging out, nervously panting, but it would not be out of context.Dial-A-DisasterThe simulator schedule begins extremely early. The things cost a lot of money just sitting there unused, so scheduling them eighteen hours per day lessens the impact of fixed costs. So what if the pilots are half asleep at 0400 or 2300? The adrenaline with pull them through. The crews now boarding the van are the lucky ones, likely with more seniority or based in a western time zone – the ones with the primo simulator times. The sun is already rising in DFW and the first six-hour block that began several hours earlier is half finished. Those pilots left the hotel long ago, well before the hot breakfast was open, and were gettingby Kevin R. DingmanThe ambiance of the layover hotel was starkly different – in a good way. Designated by the company as one of the half-dozen or so “training hotels,” it’s used mostly to house pilots during initial, upgrade and recurrent training – from four days to two months at a time. And, occasionally, for crews on a trip that is “off-schedule.” This means a trip in which we were supposed to be somewhere else for the night and something changed or went wrong and we ended up in an unplanned city. This time, we’re here as part of an off-schedule trip – not in training.I’m on the trip with a new FO.... well, new to the mainline. Justin is a “flow-through” pilot from a regional partner. It’s a contractual agreement that potentially saves the company training money and prevents regional pilots from bailing-out while they wait their turn to be paroled from poverty and sent up to the Big Show. He only has a couple of hundredhours in the MD-80 (about three months), but is very experienced in the industry with sixteen years of time-served at the regionals; some of it as a captain. His wife, Shannon, is still a pilot there; like a family member left behind in a war-torn country. She is hoping to join the majors soon. Unless, that is, they get their wish and have a baby. They have been trying very diligently for a while, he points out with a glance and raised eyebrow. Not long ago, Justin completed initial training on the MD-80 and the training hotel is still fresh in his mind. The smell of the room, elevator, lobby and van, not to mention the unmistakable smell of the sim itself, are burned into your brain and stomach. It was easy for him to notice the different feel. We’re both grateful to be guests of the hotel as crew and not headed to training.You Can’t WinPilots going to training are everywhere, like cockroaches.I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.’ – Muhammad Ali22 • TWIN & TURBINE NOVEMBER 2015