An oldie, but still a goodie!
PILOTS' JOBS
One fine hot summers afternoon there was a Cessna 150 flying in the
pattern at a quiet country airfield. The Instructor was getting quite
bothered with the student's inability to maintain altitude in the
thermals and was getting impatient at sometimes having to take over the
controls. Just then he saw a twin engine Cessna 402 5,000 ft. above him
and thought, "Another 1,000 hrs of this and I qualify for that twin
charter job! Aaahh.. to be a real pilot going somewhere!"
The 402 was already late and the boss told him this charter was for one
of the Company's premier clients. He'd already set MCT and the
cylinders didn't like it in the heat of this summer's day. He was at
6,000 ft. and the winds were now a 20kt headwind. Today was the 6th day
straight and he was pretty dang tired of fighting these engines. Maybe
if he got 10,000 ft. out of them the wind might die off... geez those
cylinder temps! He looked out momentarily and saw a B737 leaving a
contrail at 33,000 ft. in the serene blue sky. "Oh man," he thought,
"My interview is next month. I hope I just don't blow it! Outta G/A,
nice jet job, above the weather... no snotty passengers to wait for ..."
The 737 bucked and weaved in the heavy CAT at FL330 and ATC advised that
lower levels were not available due to traffic. The Captain, who was
only recently advised that his destination was below RVR minimums, had
slowed to LRC to try and hold off a possible inflight diversion, and
arrange an ETA that would helpfully ensure the fog had lifted to CATII
minima. The Company negotiations broke down yesterday and looked as if
everyone was going to take a dang pay cut. The F/O's will be
particularly hard hit as their pay wasn't anything to speak of anyway.
Finally deciding on a speed compromise between LRC and turbulence
penetration, the Captain looked up and saw Concorde at Mach 2+. Tapping
his F/O's shoulder as the 737 took another bashing, he said "Now THAT'S
what we should be on... huge pay ... super fast... not too many
routes...not too many legs... above the CAT... yep! What a life...!"
FL590 was not what he wanted anyway and he considered FL570. Already
the TAT was creeping up again and either they would have to descend or
slow down. That dang rear fuel transfer pump was becoming unreliable
and the F/E had said moments ago that the radiation meter was not
reading numbers that he'd like to see. Concorde descended to FL570 but
the radiation was still quite high even though the Notam indicated hunky
dory below FL610. Fuel flow was up and the transfer pump was
intermittent. Evening turned into night as they passed over the
Atlantic. Looking up, the F/O could see a tiny white dot moving against
the backdrop of a myriad of stars. "Hey Captain" he called as he
pointed. "Must be the Shuttle. "The Captain looked for a moment and
agreed. Quietly he thought how a Shuttle mission, while complicated,
must be the-be-all-and- end-all in aviation. Above the crap, no
radiation problems, no dang fuel transfer problems...aaah. Must be a
great way to earn a buck."
Discovery was into its 27th orbit and perigee was 200ft out from
nominated rendezvous altitude with the commsat. The robot arm was
virtually U/S and a walk may become necessary. The 200ft predicted
error would necessitate a corrective burn and Discovery needed that fuel
if a walk was to be required. Houston continually asked what the
Commander wanted to do but the advice they proffered wasn't much help.
The Commander had already been 12 hours on station sorting out the
problem and just wanted 10 minutes to himself to take a leak. Just then
a mission specialist, who had tilted the telescope down to the surface
for a minute or two, called the Commander to the scope. "Have a look at
this Sir, isn't this the kinda flying you said you wanted to do after
you finish up with NASA?" The Commander peered through the telescope
and cried Ooooohhhhh yeah! Now THAT'S flying! Man, that's what its all
about! Geez I'd give my left nut just to be doing THAT down there!"
What the Discovery Commander was looking at was a Cessna 150 in the
pattern at a quiet country airfield on a nice bright sunny afternoon.
Boy, I'll tell you...pilots are never happy unless they are drinking
beer and looking for a better job
