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London Gatwick, Wednesday, 1997-07-23 09:30 local (Z+1)
Hi, Everybody,
It's 09:30 Wednesday morning here in London. I'm in the Forte Posthouse Hotel just off London's Gatwick airport. The time in Eugene is 01:30 of the same day.
The hotel is crummy. Tower's policy of putting us in good hotels has obviously gone by the boards. Only part of the hotel is air conditioned. They put me in a room not air conditioned yesterday when we arrived here about noon. I had to demand another room. You can't sleep when it's daylight, you have to leave a window open to get some air, and the hotel is on the major road leading into Gatwick airport. I had to get uncharacteristically unpleasant to get them to change me, but I needed to sleep.
The “telly” says it's going to be “very hot” today, with a forecast high of 81°F. People who live on islands have a different reference system for “hot” than I.
This semi-interesting trip is turning into hellish, although like most hellish things, it remains interesting.
Starting with the things that have happened since my last message from Johannesburg, we got to the airplane at a remote stand on the Johannesberg ramp at 13:30 Monday there. We didn't leave until 18:30—five hours of sitting in an airplane with no air conditioning due to the non-working APU. It should have been fixed while we were there. The airplane had been on the ground 24 hours, and Joberg is a major 747 maintenance base thanks to South African Airways. However, Tower was through here last November, ran up some bills, and has not paid them as of yet. So, except for services absolutely necessary, no one was willing to help us further. The mechanic with us went to three different outfits on the field begging for some help, but nobody was willing, and I can't blame them.
One of the problems is that our body gear steering is out. Things that don't work are classified into three categories by the FAA: those that must be fixed before you can fly again, those that have to be fixed within a certain time period, and those that you don't ever have to fix.
The taped aluminum foil covering some holes in the cabin overhead fall into the last category, but I keep wondering what the passengers must think when they see them. Unfortunately a non-working APU is also in that category since it has nothing to do with safety. I contend that at least some safety is involved. It really doesn't help your ability to respond to an emergency when you've been sitting, sweating for hours rather than at a normal temperature.
The non-working body gear steering falls into the second category. The time period on that is three days. The three days was up, and since we couldn't get it fixed, about an hour of the delay at Joberg was due to having to contact the FAA to get an extension on the steering. You can usually get one extension. What I want to know is if they'll be able to get another extension when we get the same airplane tomorrow. The FAA starts frowning when you come back for a second extension.
When we got to Joberg, the three old farts from the cockpit went to bed for a long sleep. Not so the young flight attendants. After a short nap, several of them went out on the town that evening. That was unfortunate for one, a young gay black guy. A white bouncer in a bar they all went to took exception to him and beat him up pretty badly, repeatedly kicking him in the head. His fellow flight attendants got him back to the hotel. A doctor was called and examined him, recommending that he get to a hospital. The guy refused, just wanting to get home. By the time we got to Gatwick, he had gotten worse and, when we got to the hotel, asked that an ambulance be called. I haven't gotten an update on his condition today. Tower is offering NO assistance in this. If he wanted to get home, I thought the least Tower could do was put him on a flight directly from Joberg to JFK, but they wouldn't do it. Hopefully Tower would be a little more responsive to a pilot in trouble since we're more “privileged” than the flight attendants, another policy I don't agree with. Makes you wonder.
We flew from Joberg to Harare. Given our last set of troubles getting started there because of our non-working APU, both the flight engineer and myself kept hinting to the captain that he should consider leaving an engine running so we could start without depending on their air start carts. However, he chose to shut everything down, placing us at the mercy of the Zimbabwean facilities. And, guess what, the same thing happened as during the previous stop. They hadn't fixed their air start cart, and this time it was late and they couldn't easily borrow one from the private concern on the field. So, we once again sat until they got somebody out from home to get the private cart. Then, incredible, it broke down. So, another guy had to come out from home to fix it. We finally arrived at Gatwick a total of seven hours late. We had been on duty 22 hours. When I get that tired, my view of the world becomes extremely pessimistic.
Fortunately, on our way up here, the traffic was light. You have to keep track of your position relative to others and broadcast on a common air-to-air frequency at each mandatory checkpoint. It's a real pain in the neck. Makes you appreciate a working air traffic control system.
I'm winning the landing contest—three good landings compared to the captain's three clunkers. I think he's getting pissed at me. However at this point I don't really care. He's an Air Force retiree, very conservative with very fixed opinions. The flight engineer is also an Air Force retiree that feels the same. Obviously I'm in a hostile environment.
I flew the leg from Joberg to Harare. As we were letting down into Harare, he started yelling at me for being behind the descent curve, asking me if I used the gouge that at 22,000 you should be 70 miles from the airport. I told him I didn't, and he said I was going to have trouble getting down. I didn't know quite what to say. I had tuned in the glideslope, and we were actually slightly below it. Then it occurred to me that he had perhaps forgotten that the airport we were going into was 5,000 feet above sea level. Everybody gets used to going into sea level airports with the 747, and forgetting that when you're not is a common mistake. I finally said, “Uh, this airport is at 5,000 feet, right?” He didn't say anything, but stopped yakking at me. God, I hate being a first officer.
An interesting development in conservative attitudes is showing in both the captain and the flight engineer. It's a development that has been noted in various Internet discussion groups lately. Conservatives are beginning to realize that the drug war is futile. This captain, for instance, says that we ought to legalize drugs. He holds this opinion in spite of also believing, in his words, that a single hit of heroin or cocaine will cause most people to become addicted, and that a single hit of crack will most certainly cause anyone to become addicted. I tried to enlighten him a little concerning the facts of drug usage, but to no avail.
To complete my dissatisfied state, I'm having troubles with my new (relatively) laptop. I won't bore you with the details.
I know, bitch, bitch, but that's what pilots do. <g>
One of the people on the list of those receiving these emails once complained that they were so negative. That's true because it's the negative things, the problems and what you have to do to work around them that make things interesting. For example, an approach and landing on a calm, clear, sunny day is neither challenging nor noteworthy. An approach in a thunderstorm, heavy rain, strong crosswind and things on the airplane not working is challenging and noteworthy.
Okay, I've got to go find a laundromat and do my washing. I'm one uniform shirt short of having enough for the trip, and there's always the possibility they'll extend me.
Everybody take care...Terry
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