Stupid remarks<-
Taking off in a metro out of Cedar Rapids, Iowa to CVG. A bad thunderstorm was overhead kicking the crap out of the corn. I launched out into the crap to race and get a warm bunk at the CVG DHL bunkhouse. Like any frieght dog does and the controller asked what the ride was like. As I couldn't read the instruments, our focus on anything much, the plane shake rattled and rolled under the heavy overcast above, and solid red/magenta on the radar. I managed to key the mike and speak proudly, "It is better then the three dollar ride at the state fair!" At the time I saw nothing wrong with this statement or flying single pilot in tornado alley.
Another almost stupid statement was a couple years back flying into Huntsville from Birmingham AL, I noticed this rocket down below the broken clouds, and I was thinking what truckstop/hillbilly, has a huge rocket on display. I was ready to key the mike and insert foot here, when I finally figure out it was NASA's space camp. I was glad I didn't shame myself then, but I can laugh about it now.
I used to fly floatplanes and in Canada and you were restricted to flying during the day in legal light. Legal light was a complicated 6 degree calculation of the sun below the horizon to give you some mythical exact time of sun up and sun down. For bush pilots the key was legal dark. Who gave a crap if you took off in the morning a few minutes too early, hell it would be light when you landed. The key was to be on the water before legal dark. We had rules to protect each other and when to and when not to make radio calls, when you ssttrreettcchheedd legal dark. We even had code words and phrases, secondary landing sites out of town to save your butt. With competion between companies at a tense level, the pilots didn't care but the old owners you couldn't trust not to make that call to the police to come visit you as you taxied up to the dock. We even had nicknames given to guys for their tendancy to land after dark. Batman, Vampire, etc.
Well the story in this is your radio calls. You could sneak in if you stayed low, tree top level landed away from town and taxied in quitely. We operated in an area with a remote flight service you made radio calls to flight service like a unicom. But if you didn't key your mike they had no idea you were there. They were located 300 miles away at another airport.
Sitting in the office one night drinking a few cold Canadian beers, we hear Beaver Fox Delta Yankee ten miles north of Pickle Lake inboard for the water. Thunder Bay radio, calls back in a curious manner, knowing it has been dark for not just a few minutes but more like 45 minutes. Which for an IFR rated pilot and equiped aircraft is no big deal. For a 50 year old airplane, with a Bush Pilot at the controls flying at night scares the hell out of you. Landing on black water is about as enjoyable as being checked for prostate cancer. If your too young to know what that means, it sucks.
So Thunder Bay radio is trying to help the guy out, but you know everything is on tape these days. It calls back, " Roger check you inbound for the airport winds such and such, when did you get the amphibious floats installed and such." Leading them off the hook. But this guy, asks when is legal dark. And states he is inbound for the water. So I make a few calls to my friends to line up the truck head lights along the water so they can see to land.
Hell ten miles in a beaver takes eight minutes straight in, not considering circling overhead before you land to check your surface. But landing at night it was dark so what could they see any way. Also on this particular day most of us hadn't turned a prop because of the winds. High winds had kept our company grounded all day.
Another side note, hell that is the best part for me remembering this story, In a small town one call either to the bar or the coffee shoppe and half the town can be on high alert in a matter of minutes. So over hearing the radio chatter from FDY and Thunder Bay radio, a dozen or so of us lined the trucks up for light for them to land. Like I said half the town.
We could still feel the stiff winds and see the white caps on the lake from the south wind. And faintly we could see the lonely lights of the Beaver struggling into the head winds from the north. We stood and watched as it came closer to land on the water. The first few waves splashed up over the floats and into the prop, washing out the figure of the plane on the horizon. But slowly the plane came off the step and began to struggle to taxi back to the dock. Floatplanes don't handle turns well against large waves, and on this particular night this was definately no exception. So we reached back and turned off the lights, not to blind the pilot as he was trying to taxi to shore. A few more towns folk, came buy to see what all the fuss was about. Old stories where exchanged. The Police drove by stopped to chat, but thankfully had more important business to attend to. We gathered ropes, and poles to help the plane approach the dock with other aircraft already straining their own tie downs. There were several close calls of wings overlapping wings, but pilots for all of the companies, held on tight to the ropes, as we were all cold and wet, we totally forgot that legal dark was so important. A few minutes later as we were all secured in warmer surroundings and the planes secure for the night. Someone asked why he had flown south into high winds approaching the night fall. Then as the pilots wife arrived from the airport, She lived in Saskatchewan, several hundred miles away, and apparently it became much clearer to us all with no wives or significant others. Besides the beer, and flying. The pilot's eyes met hers, and though she was still too far away to hear what he said. Stood up, and said, " I haven't been laid in three months, and the Indian Maiden at the trapper's cabin today was looking too good." We all laughed and filed out of the office to the bar. The pilot never did get violated by Transport Canada, hell we were all proud of him, knowing full well, she was a city girl and very cute. As the pilot walked away Someone yelled out, "Which lake is that trappers cabin on?" The pilot never heard the question and I leaned over and said I will find out for you later.
True enough, stupid stuff does have funny and happy endings everyonce in a while.
I realized it as soon as I stopped talking and through my own laughter I had to repeat the whole thing over again (much less professionally). Due to laughter, the capt. only flew through the LOC a *little* bit!
