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Diarrhea in a freighter?
- Thread starter Frank Towns
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- Watchers 173
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Bringupthebird
Grumpy? Who-Me?
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2006
- Posts
- 2,182
"When you're cleared direct to Meeker and you're holdin' back a peeker"
"When you and your brown pard'ner aren't gonna make it to Gardner"
When you're about to report leaving the hold...
You name your cocktail of Pepto and Mt. Dew the "Hurry Up and Wait". (Or the Mt. Dew and Mt. Don't)
Positioning to SWF to pick up passengers on a rare passenger trip in the Navajo with a kid looking to build time when "the call" arrives. He gets some alone time in the cockpit while a sick sac suffices but the USA Today has to fill in for Charmin. As I get out the passengers approach the plane saying, "Hey where are you going with the paper?" I reply, "You don't want this it's all bad news."
"When you and your brown pard'ner aren't gonna make it to Gardner"
When you're about to report leaving the hold...
You name your cocktail of Pepto and Mt. Dew the "Hurry Up and Wait". (Or the Mt. Dew and Mt. Don't)
Positioning to SWF to pick up passengers on a rare passenger trip in the Navajo with a kid looking to build time when "the call" arrives. He gets some alone time in the cockpit while a sick sac suffices but the USA Today has to fill in for Charmin. As I get out the passengers approach the plane saying, "Hey where are you going with the paper?" I reply, "You don't want this it's all bad news."
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Bringupthebird
Grumpy? Who-Me?
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2006
- Posts
- 2,182
Commuter tale - didn't happen to me
SPI-MDW in a DO228. Elderly male passenger comes up to the cockpit and says "I need to use the restroom". There is none to be had. A few minutes go by and he returns ,"I really need to use the bathroom" "Sorry, we'll be on the ground in about 30 minutes", the crew says. The aiplane lands, and all the passengers deplane except this man. The captain jumps out, runs to the line shack and comes back with a roll of duct tape. A few minutes later this old man is walking slowly across the ramp with the bottoms of his pant legs taped shut!
I'm sure this captain used this instance in his SWA interview to show his dedication to customer service.
SPI-MDW in a DO228. Elderly male passenger comes up to the cockpit and says "I need to use the restroom". There is none to be had. A few minutes go by and he returns ,"I really need to use the bathroom" "Sorry, we'll be on the ground in about 30 minutes", the crew says. The aiplane lands, and all the passengers deplane except this man. The captain jumps out, runs to the line shack and comes back with a roll of duct tape. A few minutes later this old man is walking slowly across the ramp with the bottoms of his pant legs taped shut!
I'm sure this captain used this instance in his SWA interview to show his dedication to customer service.
crash-proof
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2002
- Posts
- 782
I know a certain chief pilot for aSefofane in Botswana to whom this happened twice....both times in a C208B.
First time all he had were some empty plastic shopping bags and he had to take a d^mp in that, second time he was lucky and there was a big coolerbox (empty) he used. Good thing theres a bit of space behind the last row of seats!
First time all he had were some empty plastic shopping bags and he had to take a d^mp in that, second time he was lucky and there was a big coolerbox (empty) he used. Good thing theres a bit of space behind the last row of seats!
Cassive Mock
How many MEL's?
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2005
- Posts
- 31
infiniti757
Active member
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2006
- Posts
- 29
The Tac Callsign Came Before the Hash Name
Not my story,
found it on this website, while trying to find the audio file of the F-15 pilot that crapped himself:
http://www.half-mind.com/weblog/archives.php?id=A2004121
BTW does any one have that file I am curious to hear it?
When I flew fighters, my “tactical callsign” (nickname) was Skid. How did I get a name like that? Simple: I blew a tire. But enough about my sex life . . .
Tac callsigns, as often as not, are based on notable screw-ups, minor mishaps, and embarrassing personal traits. I flew with guys named Crash, Ripple, Mumbles, Buick, and Tiny Bubbles. Crash crashed (a car, thank goodness, not a jet); Ripple accidentally fired off two live Sidewinders on a training exercise; Mumbles really did mumble; Buick got drunk and puked; TB fell in love with a Korean bar girl who milked him for hundreds of dollars’ worth of champagne cocktails. You messed up, you got a tac callsign.
When I was first assigned to the F-15 I was part of a group of new Eagle pilots destined for a USAF squadron in the Netherlands. We trained together, first at Luke AFB in Phoenix, Arizona, then at Langley AFB in Hampton, Virginia. The instructor pilots who taught us how to fly the Eagle had tac callsigns, but they made it clear to us we were not to name ourselves – our betters would bestow names on us in time, when we earned them. A few guys earned names at Luke and Langley, but the rest of us managed to stay out of trouble until we got to the Netherlands.
I was Warlock for a few months, for want of anything better. And then Prince Claus came to visit. Prince Claus (formerly of the Hitler Jugend and the Wehrmacht) was the husband of Princess Beatrix, later to become Queen Beatrix. Soesterberg Air Base wasn't far from the palace, and members of the royal family would visit from time to time. This time it was Prince Claus, and I happened to be one of two pilots on five-minute air defense alert that day. We figured we’d get a practice scramble during Prince Claus’ visit, and we did, and off we went in full afterburner. An hour later we were back on the ground, rolling out on the runway. I had landed first and was headed for the turnoff at the far end of the runway when I suddenly remembered the last taxiway was closed for resurfacing, and that I was supposed to turn off at the one I was just about to pass. I stomped on the brakes, instantly blew both main tires, and lurched to a stop. The Dutch tower controller made a terse announcement: “Alpha Kilo Zero Two, you have fouled the duty.” The pilot rolling out behind me was able to stop safely, and there we sat, fouling the duty.
Lo and behold, Prince Claus was still on base, and up he rolled in a staff car with my squadron commander, Buzzard. By now I'd shut down the engines and opened the canopy, and as I sat there, sixteen feet above my shredded tires, Buzzard and Prince Hitler Jugend walked around the jet, surveying the carnage. Finally Buzzard looked up and said, “How do you like your new tac callsign, Skid?”
So that’s how I earned the name I flew under for the rest of my USAF career. Indeed, Skid followed me into retirement, when I went to work as a civilian contractor to the USAF, training fighter pilots in cockpit resource management (a flying safety methodology).
I’m not the only Skid. There are several others, tire-blowers to a man (and one woman, who currently flies A-10s at Pope AFB in North Carolina) . . . except for one.
As a CRM instructor I was always on the road, traveling to USAF bases in the USA and across the Pacific. I particularly loved going to Nellis AFB in Las Vegas, Nevada – I was stationed there before I retired, my son and his family live there, and there’s a great hash house harrier club in town – so whenever they needed CRM training at Nellis, I was always the first to volunteer to go. On my last CRM trip to Nellis, about four years ago, I was scheduled to train the USAF Aerial Demonstration Squadron, the Thunderbirds. The Thunderbirds are based at Nellis; not only do they fly together, they take their ground training together, and I had the entire team in my classroom.
I always started training sessions by introducing myself as Skid and explaining how I got the name. This time, though, as I wrote my tac callsign on the whiteboard, I heard a couple of chuckles, and when I turned around to face the group, there was a Thunderbird pilot in the front row wearing a Skid nametag. I said “Hey, I bet you know how I got my tac callsign.” And he said, “Did you sh17 your pants in the centrifuge too?”
That’s such a good story I think I’ll end it right there!
Not my story,
found it on this website, while trying to find the audio file of the F-15 pilot that crapped himself:
http://www.half-mind.com/weblog/archives.php?id=A2004121
BTW does any one have that file I am curious to hear it?
When I flew fighters, my “tactical callsign” (nickname) was Skid. How did I get a name like that? Simple: I blew a tire. But enough about my sex life . . .
Tac callsigns, as often as not, are based on notable screw-ups, minor mishaps, and embarrassing personal traits. I flew with guys named Crash, Ripple, Mumbles, Buick, and Tiny Bubbles. Crash crashed (a car, thank goodness, not a jet); Ripple accidentally fired off two live Sidewinders on a training exercise; Mumbles really did mumble; Buick got drunk and puked; TB fell in love with a Korean bar girl who milked him for hundreds of dollars’ worth of champagne cocktails. You messed up, you got a tac callsign.
When I was first assigned to the F-15 I was part of a group of new Eagle pilots destined for a USAF squadron in the Netherlands. We trained together, first at Luke AFB in Phoenix, Arizona, then at Langley AFB in Hampton, Virginia. The instructor pilots who taught us how to fly the Eagle had tac callsigns, but they made it clear to us we were not to name ourselves – our betters would bestow names on us in time, when we earned them. A few guys earned names at Luke and Langley, but the rest of us managed to stay out of trouble until we got to the Netherlands.
I was Warlock for a few months, for want of anything better. And then Prince Claus came to visit. Prince Claus (formerly of the Hitler Jugend and the Wehrmacht) was the husband of Princess Beatrix, later to become Queen Beatrix. Soesterberg Air Base wasn't far from the palace, and members of the royal family would visit from time to time. This time it was Prince Claus, and I happened to be one of two pilots on five-minute air defense alert that day. We figured we’d get a practice scramble during Prince Claus’ visit, and we did, and off we went in full afterburner. An hour later we were back on the ground, rolling out on the runway. I had landed first and was headed for the turnoff at the far end of the runway when I suddenly remembered the last taxiway was closed for resurfacing, and that I was supposed to turn off at the one I was just about to pass. I stomped on the brakes, instantly blew both main tires, and lurched to a stop. The Dutch tower controller made a terse announcement: “Alpha Kilo Zero Two, you have fouled the duty.” The pilot rolling out behind me was able to stop safely, and there we sat, fouling the duty.
Lo and behold, Prince Claus was still on base, and up he rolled in a staff car with my squadron commander, Buzzard. By now I'd shut down the engines and opened the canopy, and as I sat there, sixteen feet above my shredded tires, Buzzard and Prince Hitler Jugend walked around the jet, surveying the carnage. Finally Buzzard looked up and said, “How do you like your new tac callsign, Skid?”
So that’s how I earned the name I flew under for the rest of my USAF career. Indeed, Skid followed me into retirement, when I went to work as a civilian contractor to the USAF, training fighter pilots in cockpit resource management (a flying safety methodology).
I’m not the only Skid. There are several others, tire-blowers to a man (and one woman, who currently flies A-10s at Pope AFB in North Carolina) . . . except for one.
As a CRM instructor I was always on the road, traveling to USAF bases in the USA and across the Pacific. I particularly loved going to Nellis AFB in Las Vegas, Nevada – I was stationed there before I retired, my son and his family live there, and there’s a great hash house harrier club in town – so whenever they needed CRM training at Nellis, I was always the first to volunteer to go. On my last CRM trip to Nellis, about four years ago, I was scheduled to train the USAF Aerial Demonstration Squadron, the Thunderbirds. The Thunderbirds are based at Nellis; not only do they fly together, they take their ground training together, and I had the entire team in my classroom.
I always started training sessions by introducing myself as Skid and explaining how I got the name. This time, though, as I wrote my tac callsign on the whiteboard, I heard a couple of chuckles, and when I turned around to face the group, there was a Thunderbird pilot in the front row wearing a Skid nametag. I said “Hey, I bet you know how I got my tac callsign.” And he said, “Did you sh17 your pants in the centrifuge too?”
That’s such a good story I think I’ll end it right there!
Last edited:
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