FurloughedAgain
Cabin Heating & Air Tech.
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2002
- Posts
- 1,657
One year ago at this very moment the cockpit door clicked shut. I took another sip of my coffee before setting it down.
"Turn Two" the captain called and I complied, turning the start selector of engine number two. The familiar vibration and soft whirring reverberated through the airplane from 70 feet behind my seat.
We were in Allentown, Pennsylvania and the Captain and I were frustrated with -- of all things -- security. We had just "beeped" when we went through security and were forced to suffer the indignity of being "scanned" in front of our customers. When I climbed into the cockpit I noticed ground-support workers, many in civilian clothes, walking across the ramp -- they had never gone through security. "Look at that!", I quipped, "Those guys have been in the country for about 2 weeks and they dont have to go through security -- we FLY the planes and we get molested!"
But the time for anger and frustration had passed. We started the left engine as the tug pushed us away from the terminal building. The 120,000 pound Boeing slowly lumbered across the apron and towards the runway. The ACARS flashed "W/B" and I ran my finger across the touchscreen, transcribing the weight and balance data from the ACARS to the FMS. I programmed weights and speeds until the familiar "Preflight Complete" message was displayed.
Its my leg and the captain relinquished the controls of the 737 to this "newhire" -- at US Airways if you worked there less than 15 years you were a newhire. For me after two and a half years in the right seat of Douglas and Boeing jetliners, I still loved the feeling of pushing the throttles forward. I'd "stand them up" and wait...god I loved that sound...the engines slowly spooling up from somewhere behind me. I pushed them up to within 10% of the calculated takeoff thrust and clicked the TOGA buttons, the Boeing autothrottles precisely setting the power for me.
"80 Knots....V1....Rotate...Positive Rate...Gear Up." The airplane roared skyward just as the rising sun flashed across the eastern horizon. "1000 feet", called the Captain, "N1, Bug-me-up, flaps 1" I replied. I hand-flew to 10,000 feet and then selected the autopilot. Now coupled to both Lateral and Vertical Nav the airplane settled in to its preprogrammed course towards North Carolina.
Out of ten-thousand feet we grumbled a time or two about security again, but soon settled into our own thoughts. For me, I stared out the window. I had 3 weeks remaining before I was to be married. There was still quite a bit to be done when I came home from this trip. The sky was so smooth... not a cloud to be seen anywhere.
An hour later we descended towards Charlotte with no idea that our nation was under attack. We were vectored towards runway 36-Right and, as I often did, I disconnected the autopilot, flightdirector, and autothrottles below 10,000 feet. The captain chuckled and mumbled something about how I'd be happier in a twin-Cessna.
We saw the airport from 50 miles northeast on the arrival. We were vectored over Lake Norman, and then directly over Charlotte and past the airport on a right downwind. The Captain had pulled his seat up and was peering over me towards the airport below. "What the hell?" he muttered... directing my attention to the airport over my right shoulder.
"They're all going back to the gate...", I commented. We turned base, and then final. Sure enough the airplanes on the ground were turning around. Runway 5/23 was nearly filled with parked airplanes. The frequency filled with chatter, dozens of airplanes asking what was going on.
"We're out of business", the Captain whispered, his voice cracking. "This is exactly what happened at Braniff". The captain, obviously, recalling a memory from his own troubled past, had determined that our airline was being shut down -- we still had no idea.
The main gear brushed the ground and, holding the nose from the pavement, I pulled the thrust-reverse levers to the first detent, the cascade-type reversers sliding backwards. I did not pull them any further, not interested in applying reverse thrust. We would not exit the runway until after we had passed the intersection of 5/23 on the north side of the field. I held the nose off and allowed the autobrakes to apply their soft pressure. I tapped them off with my feet and we taxied clear of the runway.
The ramp control frequency was nightmarish. Dozens of airplanes returning to the gates, demanding information. "Silvertop Boeing just off 36R -- proceed to the gate, deplane your passengers and flight attendants, then call me to push back, we're going to put you on 5/23"
I never had the opportunity to respond. The captain was already on his cellphone, calling his wife. He clicked off his phone and looked at me -- "There has been a terrorist attack in New York", he told me "an airplane just hit the World-Trade Center".
"An Airliner??? I gasped. We were marshelled into the gate and the jetway quickly attached. The captain got on the PA, with a final announcement for our customers who would now, for at least a week, be stuck in Charlotte with us.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Look at your watch. Today we are witnessing history in the making. The United States has been attacked by terrorists. The government has, for the first time in history, elected to shut-down all of the airspace over our country. Hopefully there will be more information when you get into the terminal. God bless us all."
The flight attendants - supposedly trained to be calm during emergencies - were in tears, desperate for information. Already it became difficult for our cell-phones to connect. Cellular traffic was high. I managed to get a call to my fiance's voicemail... to my brother, and to my parents.
We taxied the airplane to runway 5 and were marshelled to a stop, parked close to the string of airplanes that lined the runway. As the engines shut down airstairs pulled to the airplane a van awaited the captain and I. We boarded the van with other flight crews and it quickly drove to the crew-room where a supervisor was handing out hotel information.
"Remove your stripes, jackets, hats and ID. Go to your hotel and dont call us -- we'll call you."
5 days laters the phone rang in my hotel room...scheduling asking us to ferry an airplane to Buffalo. The sky was silent that night...very few airplanes in the air. Neither the captain, nor I, said anything -- save our checklists.
He was the first to break the silence. "The world has changed," he sighed. "You know, there are going to be furloughs", he said matter of factly.
It is now a year later and as I type this I am in a hotel in Philadelphia. After I was furloughed I was invited to several regional airline interviews. I was fortunate enough to find a job as a turboprop F/O. I've been here several months now and have settled in to my new lifestyle, pleased to be flying again a year after these attacks.
That memory is burned into my mind. I can picture the look on the Captains face. I can feel the wheels touching the ground in Charlotte that morning. I remember the relief I felt when I finally spoke with my then-fiance'.
It seems like it was yesterday.
God Bless America
"Turn Two" the captain called and I complied, turning the start selector of engine number two. The familiar vibration and soft whirring reverberated through the airplane from 70 feet behind my seat.
We were in Allentown, Pennsylvania and the Captain and I were frustrated with -- of all things -- security. We had just "beeped" when we went through security and were forced to suffer the indignity of being "scanned" in front of our customers. When I climbed into the cockpit I noticed ground-support workers, many in civilian clothes, walking across the ramp -- they had never gone through security. "Look at that!", I quipped, "Those guys have been in the country for about 2 weeks and they dont have to go through security -- we FLY the planes and we get molested!"
But the time for anger and frustration had passed. We started the left engine as the tug pushed us away from the terminal building. The 120,000 pound Boeing slowly lumbered across the apron and towards the runway. The ACARS flashed "W/B" and I ran my finger across the touchscreen, transcribing the weight and balance data from the ACARS to the FMS. I programmed weights and speeds until the familiar "Preflight Complete" message was displayed.
Its my leg and the captain relinquished the controls of the 737 to this "newhire" -- at US Airways if you worked there less than 15 years you were a newhire. For me after two and a half years in the right seat of Douglas and Boeing jetliners, I still loved the feeling of pushing the throttles forward. I'd "stand them up" and wait...god I loved that sound...the engines slowly spooling up from somewhere behind me. I pushed them up to within 10% of the calculated takeoff thrust and clicked the TOGA buttons, the Boeing autothrottles precisely setting the power for me.
"80 Knots....V1....Rotate...Positive Rate...Gear Up." The airplane roared skyward just as the rising sun flashed across the eastern horizon. "1000 feet", called the Captain, "N1, Bug-me-up, flaps 1" I replied. I hand-flew to 10,000 feet and then selected the autopilot. Now coupled to both Lateral and Vertical Nav the airplane settled in to its preprogrammed course towards North Carolina.
Out of ten-thousand feet we grumbled a time or two about security again, but soon settled into our own thoughts. For me, I stared out the window. I had 3 weeks remaining before I was to be married. There was still quite a bit to be done when I came home from this trip. The sky was so smooth... not a cloud to be seen anywhere.
An hour later we descended towards Charlotte with no idea that our nation was under attack. We were vectored towards runway 36-Right and, as I often did, I disconnected the autopilot, flightdirector, and autothrottles below 10,000 feet. The captain chuckled and mumbled something about how I'd be happier in a twin-Cessna.
We saw the airport from 50 miles northeast on the arrival. We were vectored over Lake Norman, and then directly over Charlotte and past the airport on a right downwind. The Captain had pulled his seat up and was peering over me towards the airport below. "What the hell?" he muttered... directing my attention to the airport over my right shoulder.
"They're all going back to the gate...", I commented. We turned base, and then final. Sure enough the airplanes on the ground were turning around. Runway 5/23 was nearly filled with parked airplanes. The frequency filled with chatter, dozens of airplanes asking what was going on.
"We're out of business", the Captain whispered, his voice cracking. "This is exactly what happened at Braniff". The captain, obviously, recalling a memory from his own troubled past, had determined that our airline was being shut down -- we still had no idea.
The main gear brushed the ground and, holding the nose from the pavement, I pulled the thrust-reverse levers to the first detent, the cascade-type reversers sliding backwards. I did not pull them any further, not interested in applying reverse thrust. We would not exit the runway until after we had passed the intersection of 5/23 on the north side of the field. I held the nose off and allowed the autobrakes to apply their soft pressure. I tapped them off with my feet and we taxied clear of the runway.
The ramp control frequency was nightmarish. Dozens of airplanes returning to the gates, demanding information. "Silvertop Boeing just off 36R -- proceed to the gate, deplane your passengers and flight attendants, then call me to push back, we're going to put you on 5/23"
I never had the opportunity to respond. The captain was already on his cellphone, calling his wife. He clicked off his phone and looked at me -- "There has been a terrorist attack in New York", he told me "an airplane just hit the World-Trade Center".
"An Airliner??? I gasped. We were marshelled into the gate and the jetway quickly attached. The captain got on the PA, with a final announcement for our customers who would now, for at least a week, be stuck in Charlotte with us.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Look at your watch. Today we are witnessing history in the making. The United States has been attacked by terrorists. The government has, for the first time in history, elected to shut-down all of the airspace over our country. Hopefully there will be more information when you get into the terminal. God bless us all."
The flight attendants - supposedly trained to be calm during emergencies - were in tears, desperate for information. Already it became difficult for our cell-phones to connect. Cellular traffic was high. I managed to get a call to my fiance's voicemail... to my brother, and to my parents.
We taxied the airplane to runway 5 and were marshelled to a stop, parked close to the string of airplanes that lined the runway. As the engines shut down airstairs pulled to the airplane a van awaited the captain and I. We boarded the van with other flight crews and it quickly drove to the crew-room where a supervisor was handing out hotel information.
"Remove your stripes, jackets, hats and ID. Go to your hotel and dont call us -- we'll call you."
5 days laters the phone rang in my hotel room...scheduling asking us to ferry an airplane to Buffalo. The sky was silent that night...very few airplanes in the air. Neither the captain, nor I, said anything -- save our checklists.
He was the first to break the silence. "The world has changed," he sighed. "You know, there are going to be furloughs", he said matter of factly.
It is now a year later and as I type this I am in a hotel in Philadelphia. After I was furloughed I was invited to several regional airline interviews. I was fortunate enough to find a job as a turboprop F/O. I've been here several months now and have settled in to my new lifestyle, pleased to be flying again a year after these attacks.
That memory is burned into my mind. I can picture the look on the Captains face. I can feel the wheels touching the ground in Charlotte that morning. I remember the relief I felt when I finally spoke with my then-fiance'.
It seems like it was yesterday.
God Bless America
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