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Jakarta, 1997-03-23
Hi, Hon,
I'm sleeping an incredible amount. I got back to Jakarta, into the hotel room at noon yesertday, crawled into bed at 13:00 and slept for 18 hours—except of course for toilet trips.
It appears that my next trip will not be with the captain I was with, and that is a relief. He is really marginal. Nothing happened on our return as serious as happened on the trip out, but he just gets too nervous and isn't on top of things.
I had flown the leg from Batam to Jeddah on the way out—all went well—and so he flew the leg from Jeddah to Jakarta. Coming into Jakarta we're at twwenty-some thousand feet, and we get an order to descend. We're all having trouble understanding the controller. All I caught from one transmission was “descend to level” and the word “eight”. The captain said, “Eight thousand, he wants us down to eight thousand,” and dials that into the P10 panel (which really should have been my task, but he wants to run it). I dutifully read back on the radio “eight thousand”, and the controller didn't challenge that. Of course, they can't understand us any better than we can understand them, and both sides do a lot of assuming.
Now the transition level at Jakarta is 13,000 feet. Above that you use a standard altimeter setting of 1013.2 hectopascals, and altitude is referred to as “level”. Below that you use the local altimeter setting (the current barometric pressure) and altitude is referred to as “feet”. So, I'm sitting there thinking, wait a minute, if he wanted us down to to 8,000 he should have said “feet”, not “level”. Maybe what he really said was “descend to level one eight zero”. Flight levels are the altitude in thousands with the rightmost two zeroes removed.
By now I don't trust this captain any further than I can throw him, and he is a big man—ex-football player. I know he doesn't like to be challenged, and I know if I ask him him if he's sure he heard 8,000, he'll say he did, so I pick up the mic and ask the approach controller slowly and distinctly, “Confirm you want Indonesia 991 down to 8,000 feet.” This time the controller understood and immediately replied, forcefully, “Negative, negative, Indonesia 991, maintain flight level one eight zero, flight level one eight zero.”
So, problem solved; we averted a 10,000 foot altitude bust with traffic coming at us below 18,000. To the captain's credit, he thanked me for a good catch and didn't seem mad.
He's not all bad, by any means. When we landed at Jeddah, he congratulated me on a good job. I think his problem is that he's just unsure of his flying abilities and tries to make up for it with bluster. At heart I think he's a good guy...but he is marginal. I have heard that about him, so it's not just my opinion, and, on our way out of the airplane, he said to me that he has almost been fired twice. I asked what had happened, and he said he'd tell me the stories sometime over a beer. That, of course, means I will proably never hear them. Much as I would like to show myself friendly, this business of sitting around consuming alcohol has no attraction for me.
Some months later I ran into him in the pilot room at the company headquarters, and he somewhat sheepishly informed me that he was now a first officer, no longer a captain. Then, some weeks later, he was just no longer around. Whether they fired him or he resigned, I don't know. He had retired out of the Air Force, so financially he was okay. It would have been hard for him to fly as an f.o., especially when he had to fly as an f.o. to recently upgraded captains who had flown as an f.o. to him. And no captain would have allowed him to fly the way he wanted, and they wouldn't have put up with sloppy flying.
It appears I'll go out again on Tuesday, which means I'll be able to use tomorrow to get a new passport.
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