Post by Hero540 on Mar 28, 2013 18:45:19 GMT -5
[Got a long-winded one for you guys. Recently changed over to direct X 10 and did the shader fixes and such. Had to reinstall FSCaptain, but all is well now with around 60 fps with most everything on max. Amazing way to play FSX!]
When I awoke on the sofa in the crew lounge at Red Bird Airline's cargo division office, it was nothing strange.
Red Bird Airlines was a relatively new US domestic flight operator with old but "restored" Boeing 737-200's in her fleet. She had about 3 for passenger service and 2 for her off-shoot division, Red Bird Air Cargo. Being one of the first few pilots Red Bird had just recently hired, I found myself working a lot. And this was fine by me. I loved the 737, and being as young a captain as I am, I wouldn't find myself with much opportunities to fly them. I had no family to worry about, and only a few friends, most of which worked with me at Red Bird.
By now I had been flying with the cargo division for a few days now. Red Bird usually kept me bouncing back and forth between flying boxes and people, and to be quite honest, I preferred the boxes. Less to worry about if I really messed up and lawn darted (aside from killing myself and my FO and maybe some on the ground...
) and I didn't have to dress snazy, leastways, not until I made the destination and had to walk in somewhere. They wanted us to look respectable then.
I digress...What was strange about waking up on the sofa was not that I had slept a few uncomfortable hours in a crew lounge at KPDX, but that my first officer and best friend Foley Barret was staring at me, styrofoam cup of coffee in hand. It jolted me awake as I didn't expect anyone to appear before my sleep-blurred eyes.
"Morning cap!" Foley blurted out just to add to my shock. Foley Barret was just as young as I was but he was good at his job, and helped me as best as I could ever expect anyone to do.
"Jeez, Foley." was all I could muster to say as I rubbed my eyes and prayed I didn't have slobber hanging off my chin. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Nothing important. Dispatch sent me to find you. We've got another job lined up."
I stretched, in no particular hurry to be awake, let alone going to work.
"So, Mia specifically asked you to come in here and scare the bejesus out of me?" I asked, obviously sarcastic. Mia was part of dispatch, and while she herself was a good person around our age and made attempts to understand what us pilots went through, many didn't like her because of what her job forced her to do.
Foley just shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. Look, this one's interesting." He thrust paperwork from his coffee-free hand into my chest.
The papers were our manifest, and it showed nothing special. Tires, crates of mail, pallets of office supplies, and then, at the bottom: 1 casket.
I had flown for awhile now. I knew that lots of things got shipped by air, including people, or by people I mean, their earthly remians. But I never actually had to fly them myself. And to be honest I was sort of creeped out by the idea. Not to sound like an insensitive jerk, but I mean, it was a dead body. I was fortunate growing up and had not to deal with death. Being an only child, my family was small, and blessed, as most were quite healthy. My parents were still kicking around, living together in Washington. A dead body to me was something bad...something that seemed to garner bad luck.
"It's just to Vancouver," Foley began, perhaps concerned with the look that crossed my face, "straight up, straight back down."
"Yeah. Fine by me." I said, trying to dismiss my thoughts about the casket. It shouldn't bother me, I kept telling myself. I set the paper work down and poured some luke warm coffee for myself.
Based on the times on the manifest the plane was already being loaded on the cargo ramps, so I had just enough time to be a human and do the bodily functions humans need to do but no one likes to talk about.
As Foley and I arrived the plane was having the last containers loaded aboard.
The weather was calm and beatiful, if not a bit chilly. The manifest papers I held in my hands rustled slightly in a gentle breeze. My eyes stayed on the line: 1 casket.
I found myself wondering who they were, what had happened. Too many possibilities and all of it creeped me out. And again I told myself, knock it off. I never did see the casket get loaded onto the plane. And for that I was glad.
When loading was complete, we boarded and started our checks. Mia had filed our relatively short IFR flight into Vancouver and wished us luck. The hardest part about that was keeping Foley from flirting with her.
Straight up and straight back down was right. The flight was incredibly short, up to flight level 250 and a brief cruise until we were vectored in on approach. We had no news from Dispatch if we were to remain in Vancouver or if we were going to load up and take another journey elsewhere, so we had overnight bags stowed away just in case.
Preflight call outs, checks, green lights, systems ready, secure this, that is secured, check, check and then we were being pushed back and the 737's engines were whining as they spooled up.
Frequency this, frequency that, routine, routine, slow roll taxi to our runway. Nothing special...except for that cold chill on the back of my neck. Someone's loved one was back there, no longer his or herself, a sadly departed spirit of a human being I knew nothing about. From where did they come? How many other flights did they take to end up with me? To think of them in their beautifully crafted casket, wedged between car tires and office supplies was depressing.
"Cleared for take off, runway one-zero right." Flaps 25, and we were doing the take off roll with screaming JTD-80's and rumbling gear. Then, the deck dropped away beneath our feet as our 732 gracefully leaped into the sky. I loved flying, and I loved the 737, and her systems and the procedures involved kept my mind off the cargo I was flying. It shouldn't bother me so much.
Heading numbers, acknowledgements, turns, all while climbing, and soon we were at flight level two five zero with no weather in sight over Washington. I thought of my parents as I gazed at the almost cloudless sky. What if that person back there was someone's mom or dad? I was sad about it, and it was ridiculous and I knew it.
"What's the deal with the weather?" I asked Foley. Conversation would stop me from being a moron about something I had no control over.
"Not a clue, my friend. I ain't gonna complain though. No chop, it's a freight dog's dream, man. Simple, simple." Foley rattled off. His three cups of coffee must be working.
The closer we go to leaving Washington the worse the cloud cover became though. We were crossing over cold mountain tops and nearing an apparently weathered up Canada.
Soon Air Traffic was giving us decent and approach instructions and Foley and I began frantic instrument adjustments, checks and re-checks and we were decending through mountain valleys. It was beautiful, but nerve racking for me as most of our descent was in cloud cover. Nothing like seeing red blips on the ground map radar when outside is opaque. Several hundred feet left or right and we'd be a crater on a moutainside. Who said being a pilot was boring? I wanted them on the flight deck.
Finally after what seemed like forever the 732 was out of the mountains and we were over water on the ILS beam to land. I never felt more relieved when we broke out of the clouds at 2,300 feet and I saw the VASI lights. Tracked the ILS and the 732 smoothly lined up. A warning chirp as I kicked off the auto-pilot and made a very average landing. Average in that the descent feet per minute was not bad, but I was off the centerline to the right, something Foley made fun of me for as we taxied in.
We shut off at the cargo ramp and they started in unloading us. Foley and I left the cabin and were on the tarmac from the airstairs. He was off for a visit to the john, and I was staring at the 732. I brought whoever it was home. And I felt good for doing it. That person, whoever he or she was, could now be put to rest.
When I awoke on the sofa in the crew lounge at Red Bird Airline's cargo division office, it was nothing strange.
Red Bird Airlines was a relatively new US domestic flight operator with old but "restored" Boeing 737-200's in her fleet. She had about 3 for passenger service and 2 for her off-shoot division, Red Bird Air Cargo. Being one of the first few pilots Red Bird had just recently hired, I found myself working a lot. And this was fine by me. I loved the 737, and being as young a captain as I am, I wouldn't find myself with much opportunities to fly them. I had no family to worry about, and only a few friends, most of which worked with me at Red Bird.
By now I had been flying with the cargo division for a few days now. Red Bird usually kept me bouncing back and forth between flying boxes and people, and to be quite honest, I preferred the boxes. Less to worry about if I really messed up and lawn darted (aside from killing myself and my FO and maybe some on the ground...
) and I didn't have to dress snazy, leastways, not until I made the destination and had to walk in somewhere. They wanted us to look respectable then.I digress...What was strange about waking up on the sofa was not that I had slept a few uncomfortable hours in a crew lounge at KPDX, but that my first officer and best friend Foley Barret was staring at me, styrofoam cup of coffee in hand. It jolted me awake as I didn't expect anyone to appear before my sleep-blurred eyes.
"Morning cap!" Foley blurted out just to add to my shock. Foley Barret was just as young as I was but he was good at his job, and helped me as best as I could ever expect anyone to do.
"Jeez, Foley." was all I could muster to say as I rubbed my eyes and prayed I didn't have slobber hanging off my chin. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Nothing important. Dispatch sent me to find you. We've got another job lined up."
I stretched, in no particular hurry to be awake, let alone going to work.
"So, Mia specifically asked you to come in here and scare the bejesus out of me?" I asked, obviously sarcastic. Mia was part of dispatch, and while she herself was a good person around our age and made attempts to understand what us pilots went through, many didn't like her because of what her job forced her to do.
Foley just shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. Look, this one's interesting." He thrust paperwork from his coffee-free hand into my chest.
The papers were our manifest, and it showed nothing special. Tires, crates of mail, pallets of office supplies, and then, at the bottom: 1 casket.
I had flown for awhile now. I knew that lots of things got shipped by air, including people, or by people I mean, their earthly remians. But I never actually had to fly them myself. And to be honest I was sort of creeped out by the idea. Not to sound like an insensitive jerk, but I mean, it was a dead body. I was fortunate growing up and had not to deal with death. Being an only child, my family was small, and blessed, as most were quite healthy. My parents were still kicking around, living together in Washington. A dead body to me was something bad...something that seemed to garner bad luck.
"It's just to Vancouver," Foley began, perhaps concerned with the look that crossed my face, "straight up, straight back down."
"Yeah. Fine by me." I said, trying to dismiss my thoughts about the casket. It shouldn't bother me, I kept telling myself. I set the paper work down and poured some luke warm coffee for myself.
Based on the times on the manifest the plane was already being loaded on the cargo ramps, so I had just enough time to be a human and do the bodily functions humans need to do but no one likes to talk about.
As Foley and I arrived the plane was having the last containers loaded aboard.
The weather was calm and beatiful, if not a bit chilly. The manifest papers I held in my hands rustled slightly in a gentle breeze. My eyes stayed on the line: 1 casket.
I found myself wondering who they were, what had happened. Too many possibilities and all of it creeped me out. And again I told myself, knock it off. I never did see the casket get loaded onto the plane. And for that I was glad.
When loading was complete, we boarded and started our checks. Mia had filed our relatively short IFR flight into Vancouver and wished us luck. The hardest part about that was keeping Foley from flirting with her.
Straight up and straight back down was right. The flight was incredibly short, up to flight level 250 and a brief cruise until we were vectored in on approach. We had no news from Dispatch if we were to remain in Vancouver or if we were going to load up and take another journey elsewhere, so we had overnight bags stowed away just in case.
Preflight call outs, checks, green lights, systems ready, secure this, that is secured, check, check and then we were being pushed back and the 737's engines were whining as they spooled up.
Frequency this, frequency that, routine, routine, slow roll taxi to our runway. Nothing special...except for that cold chill on the back of my neck. Someone's loved one was back there, no longer his or herself, a sadly departed spirit of a human being I knew nothing about. From where did they come? How many other flights did they take to end up with me? To think of them in their beautifully crafted casket, wedged between car tires and office supplies was depressing.
"Cleared for take off, runway one-zero right." Flaps 25, and we were doing the take off roll with screaming JTD-80's and rumbling gear. Then, the deck dropped away beneath our feet as our 732 gracefully leaped into the sky. I loved flying, and I loved the 737, and her systems and the procedures involved kept my mind off the cargo I was flying. It shouldn't bother me so much.
Heading numbers, acknowledgements, turns, all while climbing, and soon we were at flight level two five zero with no weather in sight over Washington. I thought of my parents as I gazed at the almost cloudless sky. What if that person back there was someone's mom or dad? I was sad about it, and it was ridiculous and I knew it.
"What's the deal with the weather?" I asked Foley. Conversation would stop me from being a moron about something I had no control over.
"Not a clue, my friend. I ain't gonna complain though. No chop, it's a freight dog's dream, man. Simple, simple." Foley rattled off. His three cups of coffee must be working.
The closer we go to leaving Washington the worse the cloud cover became though. We were crossing over cold mountain tops and nearing an apparently weathered up Canada.
Soon Air Traffic was giving us decent and approach instructions and Foley and I began frantic instrument adjustments, checks and re-checks and we were decending through mountain valleys. It was beautiful, but nerve racking for me as most of our descent was in cloud cover. Nothing like seeing red blips on the ground map radar when outside is opaque. Several hundred feet left or right and we'd be a crater on a moutainside. Who said being a pilot was boring? I wanted them on the flight deck.
Finally after what seemed like forever the 732 was out of the mountains and we were over water on the ILS beam to land. I never felt more relieved when we broke out of the clouds at 2,300 feet and I saw the VASI lights. Tracked the ILS and the 732 smoothly lined up. A warning chirp as I kicked off the auto-pilot and made a very average landing. Average in that the descent feet per minute was not bad, but I was off the centerline to the right, something Foley made fun of me for as we taxied in.
We shut off at the cargo ramp and they started in unloading us. Foley and I left the cabin and were on the tarmac from the airstairs. He was off for a visit to the john, and I was staring at the 732. I brought whoever it was home. And I felt good for doing it. That person, whoever he or she was, could now be put to rest.
