Merry Christmas from the Midi's

[mrmidi]

Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

[SIK1]

Merry Christmas to all.

[The Fury]

LOL nice.

Merry christmas to all.

 

[Steel]

Awesome.....

Merry Christmas!

<S> Steel

[PhantomBarron]

Very nice Same to the Midi's

[Hawk78th]

And Back to the Midi's       

 (December 1952 by Capt. R.C. Robson)
The Flight Before Christmas

‘Twas the flight before Christmas and all through the sky,
Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept the Captain and I.
The throttles were set on the quadrant with care,
In hopes of beating St. Nicholas there.

The passengers were nestled all snug in their seats,
The purring of engines had lulled them to sleep.
And Captain at the wheel and I on his right,
Had just leveled off for a long winter’s flight.

When out of the sky there arose such a clatter,
We jumped in our seats to see what was the matter.
We checked each engine quick as a flash,
Glanced at the dials all over the dash.

The moonlight reflecting from the cloud bank below,
Showed nothing amiss in the cold white glow.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old pilot, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than our ship his courses they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

"Now Pratt! now Whitney! Now Curtiss and Wright!
On Franklin! On Allison! On, on though the night!
"To the top of the clouds, to the top of them all,
Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

And then in a twinkle on our wing we did here,
The prancing and pawing of each little dear.
Flying swift as the wind over a cloud,
They passed right by us, nodded and bowed.

He was dressed in goggles and helmet and boot,
And snow flakes were clinging to his flying suit.
A bundle of toys was strapped to his back,
He looked like a paratrooper in his jumping pack.

His goggles now frosted, his dimples now merry,
The wind burned his cheeks and his nose like a cherry.
He had on the earphones of his radio,
And he was flying the course straight as an arrow.

The smoke from his pipe his teeth held tight,
Streamed out behind him into the night.
He had tightened his seatbelt over his belly,
But it shook underneath like a bowl full of jelly.

He was sure a good flyer, that jolly old elf,
He flew better than the Captain – or even myself.
With a burst of speed from his tiny sled,
He was out in front and pulling ahead.

He was looking for a break in the dense overcast,
For he’d stockings to fill – al all night task.
When off to the south he saw a big hole,
And banked to his right and started to roll.

He pushed forward his stick, to his team gave a whistle,
And towards it they flew, like the down on a thistle.
But we heard him exclaim as he dove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight!


Happy Holiday's All

   <S> 

Hawk78th
 

[soda72]

 

[B4Buster]

Nice 

[Tr0jan]

Nice 

Noob 

[stodd]

 

[Tr0jan]

Stodddddyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!

Merry christmas mate!