Pilots Their World:
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Pilots Their World:
Pilots Their World (One)
¡°You see them at airport terminals around the world. You see them in the morning early, sometimes at night. They come neatly uniformed and hatted, sleeves striped, they show up looking fresh. There¡¯s a brisk, young-old look of efficiency about them.
They arrive fresh from home, from hotels, carrying suitcases and battered briefcases bulging with a wealth of technical information, regulations, rules and procedures.
They know the up and down walks to the gates at Boston, Bahrain, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and dozens of others.
They understand the cluttered approach to Newark, they respect foggy San Francisco, they know but do not relish threading the needle at Hong Kong and they accept the danger of an ice slick runway in Seoul. They marvel at the exquisite good taste of hot coffee in Anchorage or a cold beer in Guam and they like the smell of burning kerosene on a cold winter morning.
They understand about short runways, antiquated fire equipment, inadequate approach lighting, but they don¡¯t understand or accept complacency.
They know the remoteness of the 747 cockpit, the roominess of the DC-10 cockpit and the snug fit of the 737. They like the new glass panel but wonder about the side stick.
They speak a language unknown to Webster or Collins. They discuss epr¡¯s, fans, mach, bogies, piano keys, cobblestones, mares tails, bugs, rat, cat, thumpers, parrots, slots, grooves, runners, scud, sky pointers, fusible plugs, eye ball bounce, digging holes and the girls down the back. Only pilots can talk of such things and it is little wonder they change the subject when the uninitiated approach.
They have tasted the characteristic loneliness of the sky, and occasionally the adrenaline of danger. They respect the unseen thing called turbulence; they know what it means to fight for self-control, to discipline one¡¯s senses. They buy life insurance but make no concession to the possibility of complete disaster, for they have uncommon faith in themselves and what they are doing. They concede that some of the glamour is gone from flying. They deny that a man is through at sixty. They know that tomorrow, or the following night, something will come along that they have never met before; they know that flying requires perseverance and vigilance and they know they must practice, lest they retrograde.
As a group, they defy mortality tables, yet approach semi-annual physical examinations with trepidation. They are individualistic, yet bonded together. They are family men, yet rated poor marriage bets. They are reputedly overpaid, yet entrusted with equipment worth millions. They are daily trusted with lives, many, many lives.
They have watched a satellite streak across a starry sky, seen the clear deep blue of the stratosphere. They have marvelled at sun-streaked evenings, dappled earth, velvet night; spun silver clouds, sculptured cumulus. They have viewed the Northern Lights, a wilderness of sky, a pilot¡¯s halo, a bomber¡¯s moon, horizontal rain, contrails and St Elmo¡¯s Fire.¡±
Only pilots understand all this. It is their world. (Author unknown)
Pilots Their World (Two)
---------etc etc etc ¡°a friend who had elected to retire soon.¡± ¡°Yes¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t want any more of this three in the morning sort of thing. I don¡¯t care if I ever have to wait for another hotel van or taxi. I¡¯m tired of being tired. I¡¯m tired of what this business has become. I¡¯m tired of the constant tests, the checks, the physicals, the drug tests, soon to include alcohol tests and I abhor pilot security screening. I don¡¯t want to play ¡®you bet your career¡¯ every six months anymore. I¡¯m tired of suitcases and hotels and company politicians and bureaucrats in my life. I don¡¯t want to wonder every day if we will have a job tomorrow. I don¡¯t want to go through another merger or mega-buck CEO telling me I¡¯m overpaid. I don¡¯t envy you any of that, and you have a lot left to endure. But I do envy you one thing. I will miss what we¡¯re doing right now. I will miss you guys. I¡¯ll miss the stories, the sense of adventure, the sense of having a mission, the flight planning and the maps and the flight plans.
I 'll miss just touching them¡± etc etc etc.
Only pilots understand all this. It is their world.
Prince of Dzun Author R. Drury
¡°You see them at airport terminals around the world. You see them in the morning early, sometimes at night. They come neatly uniformed and hatted, sleeves striped, they show up looking fresh. There¡¯s a brisk, young-old look of efficiency about them.
They arrive fresh from home, from hotels, carrying suitcases and battered briefcases bulging with a wealth of technical information, regulations, rules and procedures.
They know the up and down walks to the gates at Boston, Bahrain, Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and dozens of others.
They understand the cluttered approach to Newark, they respect foggy San Francisco, they know but do not relish threading the needle at Hong Kong and they accept the danger of an ice slick runway in Seoul. They marvel at the exquisite good taste of hot coffee in Anchorage or a cold beer in Guam and they like the smell of burning kerosene on a cold winter morning.
They understand about short runways, antiquated fire equipment, inadequate approach lighting, but they don¡¯t understand or accept complacency.
They know the remoteness of the 747 cockpit, the roominess of the DC-10 cockpit and the snug fit of the 737. They like the new glass panel but wonder about the side stick.
They speak a language unknown to Webster or Collins. They discuss epr¡¯s, fans, mach, bogies, piano keys, cobblestones, mares tails, bugs, rat, cat, thumpers, parrots, slots, grooves, runners, scud, sky pointers, fusible plugs, eye ball bounce, digging holes and the girls down the back. Only pilots can talk of such things and it is little wonder they change the subject when the uninitiated approach.
They have tasted the characteristic loneliness of the sky, and occasionally the adrenaline of danger. They respect the unseen thing called turbulence; they know what it means to fight for self-control, to discipline one¡¯s senses. They buy life insurance but make no concession to the possibility of complete disaster, for they have uncommon faith in themselves and what they are doing. They concede that some of the glamour is gone from flying. They deny that a man is through at sixty. They know that tomorrow, or the following night, something will come along that they have never met before; they know that flying requires perseverance and vigilance and they know they must practice, lest they retrograde.
As a group, they defy mortality tables, yet approach semi-annual physical examinations with trepidation. They are individualistic, yet bonded together. They are family men, yet rated poor marriage bets. They are reputedly overpaid, yet entrusted with equipment worth millions. They are daily trusted with lives, many, many lives.
They have watched a satellite streak across a starry sky, seen the clear deep blue of the stratosphere. They have marvelled at sun-streaked evenings, dappled earth, velvet night; spun silver clouds, sculptured cumulus. They have viewed the Northern Lights, a wilderness of sky, a pilot¡¯s halo, a bomber¡¯s moon, horizontal rain, contrails and St Elmo¡¯s Fire.¡±
Only pilots understand all this. It is their world. (Author unknown)
Pilots Their World (Two)
---------etc etc etc ¡°a friend who had elected to retire soon.¡± ¡°Yes¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t want any more of this three in the morning sort of thing. I don¡¯t care if I ever have to wait for another hotel van or taxi. I¡¯m tired of being tired. I¡¯m tired of what this business has become. I¡¯m tired of the constant tests, the checks, the physicals, the drug tests, soon to include alcohol tests and I abhor pilot security screening. I don¡¯t want to play ¡®you bet your career¡¯ every six months anymore. I¡¯m tired of suitcases and hotels and company politicians and bureaucrats in my life. I don¡¯t want to wonder every day if we will have a job tomorrow. I don¡¯t want to go through another merger or mega-buck CEO telling me I¡¯m overpaid. I don¡¯t envy you any of that, and you have a lot left to endure. But I do envy you one thing. I will miss what we¡¯re doing right now. I will miss you guys. I¡¯ll miss the stories, the sense of adventure, the sense of having a mission, the flight planning and the maps and the flight plans.
I 'll miss just touching them¡± etc etc etc.
Only pilots understand all this. It is their world.
Prince of Dzun Author R. Drury
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: North America
Posts: 119
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He Speaks of truth
As a twenty year veteran of this business we call aviation, I must agree.
As a student pilot you learn early that in order to succeed in this business it must consume you, there is no other way.
But as I have seen, as we all have, the decline of terms and conditions, I must admit the as a profession leaves little to be desired today.
I will always enjoy climbing into a cockipt of any airplane and soring the sky, there is nothing like it, but much like medicine and the direction health care has taken, aviation has been taken over by greedy business men who screw the populas as well as the professional pilot.
We all need to make a living, but I am tired of the sacrifice, to line other pockets.
There are indeed better ways to make a living, maybe not as thrilling.
As a student pilot you learn early that in order to succeed in this business it must consume you, there is no other way.
But as I have seen, as we all have, the decline of terms and conditions, I must admit the as a profession leaves little to be desired today.
I will always enjoy climbing into a cockipt of any airplane and soring the sky, there is nothing like it, but much like medicine and the direction health care has taken, aviation has been taken over by greedy business men who screw the populas as well as the professional pilot.
We all need to make a living, but I am tired of the sacrifice, to line other pockets.
There are indeed better ways to make a living, maybe not as thrilling.
