They say “write what you know” and I haven’t bored you with flying stories in a while so I thought I’d share a somewhat typical week at work with you.
In the airline world, everything in based on seniority. Having clawed my way to 16% seniority in my “seat”, I now pretty much get my pick of trips.
I could “chase the money” and upgrade to Captain on the 757, but I’d be back to flying Detroit-Newark or some other crappy trip and I don’t really need the extra money. Cheap bastard that I am, I’m still living in my starter-home and I don’t have expensive hobbies.
Instead I stay senior in the right seat of the 767 and enjoy flying a fairly easy schedule, at least as far as night freight goes.
My favorite trip these days goes LA to Oakland and back. I will fly that trip 2 or 3 weeks out of a given month. At least until the schedulers decide to screw it up and I have to bid something else.
I like this trip partly because it’s a “double deadhead” meaning I get a commercial airline ticket to and from work. It’s two short legs and it avoids deicing in the Midwest. Plus thunderstorms are at least not that common in California (I hate those things).
A deice event at our Indianapolis hub or God-forbid Memphis is like getting a root canal during your IRS audit, while waiting in line at the DMV. Times a thousand. If aviation had been around in Dante’s time he would have made deicing in Memphis his 10th circle of hell.
Now the one bad part part of this trip is the company expects me to take an early AM deadhead out to the west coast on Monday morning, get 12 hours of crew rest, and then start night flying. It’s a legal pairing but it’s not smart. I always go a day early. That gives me a “pad” if something goes wrong and I also get more rest.
I may end up eating the cost of a hotel room for a night but it’s cheap insurance versus missing a connection and losing a full week’s pay.
Monday night goes pretty much as expected. The Captain lives in LA so I don’t see him until I’m at the ramp office. He was with Flying Tigers before the merger in 1996. I like the former Tigers guys, most of them are pretty easy going.
We walk out to the jet about 45 minutes before scheduled pushback. I wear my yellow “vest of shame” to keep the company lawyers happy if I get run over by a tug. I hate the stupid vest but the ramp is a dangerous place and I can see why they want us to wear them. For what they pay me I’d wear a pink tutu and ballet shoes (wait, you weren’t supposed to hear that).
I do my walk-around inspection of the jet while the Captain goes up and starts getting the cockpit ready. The load crew is already starting to put freight on the jet which tells me we’ll probably get out on time.
This is very important because an on-time departure means an on-time arrival which means I get my nap. Because it’s all about me.
You may think that jet thrust makes the plane fly but it’s really paperwork that makes it go. Take off without the maintenance log on board (it’s happened) and you will hear from one or more not-so-friendly three letter government agencies.
Ultimately the Captain is responsible, but I’m supposed to back him up so I’ll probably “hang” right alongside them if we screw up.
Most of these are legal documents and when the Captain signs his name to them he’s accepting responsibility for them being correct.
Once we’ve both sat down and “built our nest” we start checking the flight plan, get our clearance from ATC, and then brief the departure procedure.
One of the mechanics brings up a fuel ticket, which I use to verify that we have the correct fuel load. Very important. I don’t want to be the next “Gimli Glider”, which I’ll write about another day.
At some point we get an electronic weight and balance which I use to calculate our takeoff data.
Usually the last thing I have to do is check the hazardous materials. We carry a lot of nasty stuff that you can’t put on a passenger jet.
I see we have a lot of dry ice, which means we’re hauling some stuff that needs to be kept cold. Maybe pharmaceuticals. Above a certain amount of dry ice we have use CO2 monitors to make sure it doesn’t build up in the cockpit.
We have a shit-ton of lithium ion batteries. Make that a metric shit-ton, which is heavier than an English shit-ton. I make note of this because lithium ion batteries have been known to catch fire. UPS lost a 747 a few years ago for that very reason. Unless we’re hauling critters tonight, I’ll plan to keep the cargo compartments cold, which helps keep the batteries happy.
Let’s see what other goodies we’re carrying:
We have some kind of infectious substance (great!)
We also have radioactive material. Woo hoo! Maybe I’ll get superpowers!
Once the jet is loaded and all the paperwork accounted for, I go back, say goodbye to the Ramp Agent and button up the crew entry door.
Once I’m back in the seat we run through the Before Start checklist. When we turn our red rotating beacon on that’s the signal for the pushback tug to hook up.
The worst part of this trip is trying to get out of LAX. It’s incredibly busy even at 9:30 PM. I start trying to call for pushback clearance but I’m not optimistic. I can tell by his voice that the ground controller is the one I refer to as “that guy”.
I don’t know who “that guy” is, but I think he used to work as an auctioneer. Normally a controller will issue an instruction, then pause for a second. That pause is when someone like me jumps in to talk.
This guy never shuts up even to breath. He must have the lung capacity of Luciano Pavarotti in his heyday.
“United105turnleftontangoSkywest950exitatthesecondtaxiwayDelta75heavycontacttoweron120.95Chinacargo36heavyholdshortoftaxiwayfoxtrot...”
After about 5 minutes of this (I really don’t know how he does it) I try to carefully time it so I’m not “stepping on” another crew’s transmission. Not an easy task because everyone else is trying to do the same thing.
“Boxhauler 65 Heavy request pushback onto taxiway Alpha”
Usually it takes me about three tries until I actually get through but tonight’s my lucky night.
“Boxhauler 65 Heavy cleared to push onto Alpha, tail west”
LAX normally enjoys a light offshore breeze so most of the time we takeoff to the west.
There are four runways. Runway 24 Right and 24 Left are the “North Complex”. Runway 25 Right and 25 Left are the “South Complex”. Our ramp is on the South Complex, so we normally take off from one of the 25’s.
Generally they run departures off the inner two runways while arrivals land on the outer runways.
I calculate the takeoff numbers for “Runway 25 Generic” which gives us the same set of numbers for either of the 25’s.
Here’s where it gets tricky. We have to program the departure runway into “the box” as we call our Flight Management System (FMS). LAX however likes to throw last minute runway changes at us. Normally they send departures off the right, while people land on the left runway. Sometimes however they’ll try to squeeze us off the left runway in between landings.
The FMS has to be reprogrammed for the new runway because the first waypoint on the departure is different for each runway. It’s not like the old 727 days when we could just go.
This is what “the box” looks like. Oh wait, you weren’t supposed to see that.
This is where a little “corporate knowledge” can be helpful.
Tower calls us and says “Boxhauler 65 Heavy be ready to go off the left”.
As the guy on Star Wars said “It’s a trap!”. If I reprogram the departure now he may change his mind and send us off the right and I’ll have to do it all over again. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I load the departure change into the box but I don’t hit “execute” yet. This way if they change their mind I just hit “erase” and we’re good. I also have the takeoff speeds written down because I know changing runways will “dump” the speeds from the computer. That’s one of those little services you get from a seasoned First Officer. You’re welcome Captain.
“Boxhauler 65 Heavy RNAV to HIIPR cleared takeoff 25 left”. OK it looks like he didn’t change his mind this time.
I’m required to read back the takeoff clearance verbatim and I do.
“Boxhauler 65 Heavy RNAV HIIPR cleared takeoff 25 left”
I hit “execute”, changing the runway and quickly type the takeoff speeds back in.
Right around this time one of the automated voices on the jet (I call her Betty) chimes in with:
“Approaching Runway 25 Left”
“Final’s clear”. Even though tower cleared us onto the runway we still make sure nobody’s trying to land on it. Anyone can make a mistake.
The Captain calls for the Before Takeoff checklist and I rattle it off:
“Runway 25 left verified” (This is to make sure we don’t try to depart the wrong runway). I’d like to keep collecting my paychecks.
“Takeoff Configuration is Checked” (Flaps and Trim are set properly and speed brakes are stowed)
“V Speeds” “Checked” “Checked” (These are our takeoff speeds and we both have to verify them)
“MCP” (This is the control panel for the flight directors and autopilot)
“153 LNAV 5000” (climb speed if we lose an engine is 153 knots, we’ll be flying the departure course programmed into the FMS and our initial level off will be 5000 feet)
The last step is for me to turn all the exterior lights on and we’re good to go.
“Before takeoff checklist complete”
As he pushes up the throttles the Captain hits the “thrust” switch and calls “Set standard power”. This is a reduced thrust setting to save wear and tear on the engines. We only use Max thrust when we need it.
I make sure the autothrottles move to the correct thrust setting and call “Standard power set”.
We’re fairly heavy tonight. We’re carrying 95,000 pounds of freight plus “tankering” extra fuel up to Oakland. Fuel must be cheaper in LA which is why we do that. This puts us at around 325,000 pounds gross weight. Takeoff acceleration is somewhat leisurely at this weight.
“80 knots” “Checked” (We make sure our airspeed indicators are both functioning)
“V1…...Rotate”
“Positive Rate”
“Gear Up”
And we’re off. At 400 feet we verify that we’re getting good LNAV course guidance. At 1000 feet the Captain calls for VNAV (Vertical Guidance). We start accelerating and “cleaning up” the aircraft. Once the flaps are up we accelerate to 250 knots and follow the departure.
The tower controller has us contact SOCAL departure control and we’re cleared to “climb via” the departure. This means we follow both the lateral and vertical pathways up to the top altitude depicted on the departure procedure. Sometimes they’ll make us fly the whole thing and other times they’ll give us a shortcut towards Oakland. Just depends on how much air traffic there is.
It’s roughly an hour flight up to Oakland. Just about perfect. Enough time to get up to cruise altitude and get ready for the arrival into Oakland but not long enough to get bored.
We check the automated weather (ATIS) for Oakland and it’s good. A few clouds and light winds.
I calculate our landing data based on what our weight will be when we get there. Then we go over the arrival procedure and the final approach.
We want to make sure we can stop and not end up like the 737 in the picture. I’ve landed at Burbank and it’s tight even on a good day. Landing there with a wet runway would be pretty dicey. Note that this plane was saved by the EMAS which is a kind of “squishy concrete” they put in the overrun. It stops the plane without doing too much damage to it. Beats having to merge into traffic when you go off the end of the runway and onto the freeway.
Oakland has a much longer runway than Burbank but we run the numbers anyway just to be safe (and legal).
The arrival into Oakland normally brings us in east of San Jose and up the east side of the bay. Somewhere around Hayward the arrival makes a jink to line up with the approach to Runway 30. This is the “normal” runway for Oakland and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve landed going the other direction.
One “gotcha” that’s not on the chart. Oakland sits under the “Class B” airspace for SFO (San Francisco). This means we have to slow down to 200 knots or less when we go under their airspace. It’s not marked on the arrival chart so we take our best guess and program the box to slow us down when we think we’ll be there.
NORCAL turns us onto final about 5 miles behind “company traffic” meaning it’s one of our jets. We slow to approach speed a little early so we don’t start running up behind them. A go-around and second approach would cost us at least 15 minutes.
The jet ahead of us gets off the runway in time so we’re cleared to land.
It’s the Captain’s leg and his approach and landing are good. He has a Heads Up Display on his side of the cockpit that makes approaches easy. I don’t rate one of those so I have to do it the old fashioned way.
The autobrakes do their thing and we exit the runway onto the high-speed taxiway. I run the after landing checklist, call ground control on the radio and then call our ramp to confirm our gate. We have to wait for them to move another plane out of our gate, which annoys me because it’s cutting into my nap time. Finally we get to park. That’s 5 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
We go out through security and the van from the airport Holiday Inn is waiting for us. It’s the same driver all the time and he’s great. I’ve never had to wait for him. He’s always there.
The clerk at the hotel recognizes me because I fly this trip all the time.
I get to the room. Let’s see, showtime is at 1:40 AM so I set my alarm for 1:20 AM. It’s now 11:40 PM. I was hoping for a 2 hour nap but that’s not going to happen tonight. Still, even a short nap is better than trying to hold my eyelids open on final approach into LA.
I wake up at 1:15 on my own so I guess I got what I needed. I quickly dress and make a cup of coffee. By my count this is the third cup for the night.
I meet downstairs at 1:40 and the van whisks us and one other crew back to the Oakland ramp. There’s very little conversation. We all look like extras from a Living Dead episode. I tip the driver and do my third bag-drag of the night back through security.
The exhausted looking box tossers are starting to filter out through security as we go in. I take this as a good sign. If they’re going home that means the “sort” is done and we’ll probably get out on time. Which means I get to LA on time and back to sleep. Remember, it’s all about me.
We go upstairs and check the flight plan while I drink coffee number four. Pro tip, if you mix in half a packet of cocoa mix you have a poor man’s cafe mocha. I finish my coffee and we head out to the jet.
Unlike a passenger 767, our freighter has a single entry door that opens like a garage door. I usually keep it closed because it’s cold out there plus the ramp is a noisy place.
We try not to run the APU to save fuel, so we don’t have any heat in the cockpit right now. At least once during the preflight someone will come through that door and leave it open, which annoys me. They’re bundled up in parkas (50 degrees in California is parka weather) and we’re not.
Oakland airport at 3:00 AM is pretty much dead except for us freighters. We push back on time and taxi right out to Runway 30.
We don’t have nearly as much freight going down to LAX. Takeoff performance is pretty brisk. Not much going on over the bay this time of morning so NORCAL just gives us a left turn to 120 heading and an initial climb to 19,000.
Here’s a little gamesmanship. Our normal climb profile is to partially level off at 1000 feet, bring the flaps up and accelerate to 250 knots. That’s what the flight director needles on my display are telling me to do.
However, if we’re going the wrong direction, there’s no point in going there fast. I ignore the flight director and keep the nose up, holding us at maneuvering speed for this flap setting. I’ve already told the Captain I’m going to do this so he’s not surprised.
I maintain this speed until we’re pointed south. Once we’re headed in the right direction I let the nose come down and we start to accelerate and bring the flaps up.
LAX in the early morning is kind of weird. Wind permitting, they’re usually sending departures out to the west, off the south complex. Meanwhile they have us landing to the east on the north complex. This is for noise abatement as it keeps everybody out over the Pacific instead of over the neighborhoods east of the airport.
On the descent, the box normally flies a programmed vertical “path”. I have a little indicator that tells me if we’re above, below or on the path. SOCAL has us arriving for Runway 06 Left, but then they switch us to Runway 06 Right late in the game.
Since I’m flying the Captain programs the runway change into the box and we both do a quick briefing on the new runway. The box is usually pretty smart but it doesn’t like last-minute changes.
Tonight it goes “stupid” on us. Even worse, it doesn’t tell us that it’s gone stupid. It’s showing us on “the path” but my mental math is telling that we’re not coming down nearly fast enough to make the next altitude restriction. We have to be at 6000 feet and 210 knots at the next point and I can tell we’re not coming down nearly fast enough to do it.
I change modes on the autopilot to “go down as fast as you can” and throw out the speed brakes. We make the restriction, barely. If we’d sat there fat, dumb and happy we’d have probably blown right past the restriction and maybe got the dreaded “call this number after you land” from approach control.
Automation is great but you have to keep an eye on it or it can bite you. This wasn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last.
My landing is better than the Captain’s was (ha!). We’re fairly light so I kick the autobrakes off and brake manually to make the first high-speed taxiway. It’s a very long taxi all the way down to the south complex.
Our LAX ramp is pretty tight and most of the gates require us to be towed in. Fortunately the tug drivers get a lot of practice so they make quick work of the job.
We don our yellow vests and walk in through the sort facility, doing our best not to get run over by a tug. The sort facility is best compared to a bee hive or an ant farm. It looks like barely controlled chaos but it all works somehow.
Out through security and the LA van driver is waiting. I like this guy but he’s “chatty”. I’m not very chatty at 4:30 AM after a night at work. It’s a very short drive to the hotel in El Segundo. We could almost walk there.
I’m in bed by 5:00 AM. Not too bad really. I used to fly a Nashville trip on the 757 that didn’t get us to the hotel until after 9:00. Even so I’m asleep the moment I lay down.
Mmmmmmm! I love you bed! I love you pillow!
(to be continued)