Saturday, December 31, 2005
Yesterday was the last day of my airline flying career.
It actually began on day two of a three day trip. After flying “all the way” from Lexington to Cincinnati (27 minutes), we were supposed to fly to Philadelphia for our next overnight. Philadelphia, however, was experiencing long delays due to bad weather and just as the first of our passengers showed up to board the plane, we were told by Air Traffic Control that we had been assigned a “wheels up” time of 8:03PM, more than two hours later than our scheduled departure time. We sent the passengers back into the terminal and shut down the plane.
I immediately began figuring out how this delay would impact the remainder of our trip. Our overnight was a “scheduled reduced rest” of less than 9 hours. "Rest" is computed from 20 minutes after gate arrival to one hour before departure the next morning. Anything between those times is considered "rest," including travel to and from the hotel. By adding the scheduled flight time (block time) to the wheels up time, I knew our rest would be less than 8 hours, which is illegal for a multiple day trip like ours. Reducing our rest to the minimum of 8 hours and shortening our report time in the morning to one half hour before departure would still make the flight late in the morning, but other than cancelling (not my decision), it was the only option. And, by adding the scheduled block time to the adjusted departure time for the next morning meant that we would arrive in Cincinnati 10 minutes after our next leg to Sioux Falls was scheduled to depart. Either the company would allow that flight to run late as well, or another crew would be assigned and we would be “displaced” and assignable to something else that had to finish by the original end of our trip.
After arriving in Philadelphia, I called Crew Scheduling to let them know what our official block-in time so they could compute our report time for the next morning. But when asked, they had no idea whether or not we would be flying the Sioux Falls legs the next morning (too far in advance). They had also inexplicably scheduled the First Officer for a shorter rest period than the rest of the crew! I told the scheduler that the First Officer would report when we did, since they couldn’t use him without the rest of the crew. The hotel van was full, so we were told by the driver we’d have to wait for the next van, which would be along momentarily. That’s ok, we were "resting." Besides, what choice did we have?
Since the leg returning from Sioux Falls was supposed to be my last official flight, there was now a question in my mind of whether or not I would actually fly it. My original plan was to let the First Officer fly the plane to Philadelphia and back, and I would fly to Sioux Falls and back. Now that it was in doubt, I elected to fly the leg back in the morning from Philadelphia. When we got within radio range of Cincinnati, the First Officer called Operations to see if we would keep the plane to Sioux Falls. We were told that the plane we were currently flying was scheduled to go to Omaha, not Sioux Falls. If we were still assigned to fly to Sioux Falls, that meant a plane change, which would further delay the departure. The First Officer prodded a little harder by asking if they knew whether or not this was to be the Captain's last flight. Their response was that the Captain was to call Crew Scheduling after arrival. So we still didn’t know.
It’s a tradition that fire trucks stream crossed arcs of water over the plane as the retiring Captain taxis in to the ramp. We didn’t see any fire trucks, deepening the mystery. I thought that perhaps they weren’t observing that tradition since I was retiring a few months short of my FAA-mandated 60th birthday. Or perhaps I was to fly the Sioux Falls legs (late) after all, or even that I was to be reassigned other legs to a different destination. When we got near our gate, no marshaler showed up to park us, delaying our arrival a few more minutes. Finally, a marshaler appeared and as I taxied up to the gate I saw not one, but eight or nine gate customer service representatives at the walkway. This is unusual, even for a late flight. But then, as I was shutting down the plane, they started to wave at me, which was even more unusual! I looked to my left and saw the Chief Pilot and his staff, smiling and taking pictures. I knew then that I had completed my last flight.
The Chief Pilot took more pictures of me and the crew as we deplaned, the marshaler presented me with the wands he had used for my last taxi-up, and the staff apologized for the absence of the fire trucks. The trucks had been scheduled for the arrival of the Sioux Falls flight at 1:00PM. When the staff realized that we would be late from Philadelphia, and probably not make the Sioux Falls legs, they called to get the trucks out, but the trucks went to the wrong side of the airport! (I wonder if some junior reserve Captain is still trying to figure out why he was met by spraying fire trucks?) The Chief Pilot insisted that he carry my bags to his staff car: “No retiring Captain EVER carries his own bags!!” We drove to his office on the other side of the airport for a short conversation about out-processing procedures, and some very complimentary remarks. He told me that he would mail the pictures he had taken and the usual framed remembrances that are given to all pilots who retire.
I called Crew Scheduling; I was put on hold, so I hung up. I had met the letter of my obligation. I went to check out on the computer terminal, but they all were in use. Besides, the scheduling computer automatically checks us out 20 minutes after our arrival. On the way out the door, I ran in to one of the other two remaining pilots from our new-hire class fourteen and a half years ago. We exchanged goodbyes, and promised to keep in touch. I had a plane to catch. It was the Omaha flight, on the plane that I had flown in from Philadelphia earlier that morning. Even though I had changed out of my uniform, one of the gate agents recognized me as the Captain that had brought the plane in. She congratulated me on my retirement and wished me well.
I have spent almost 11,000 hours carrying thousands of passengers safely across millions of miles to their destinations. In only four instances was I unable to get them to their destinations after we got airborne. In two cases, it was mechanical failures that caused us to divert. In the other two instances, it was because of weather at our destination would have delayed us beyond our capability to remain airborne (ironically, in both cases, the alternate station was the same). In every instance, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at the end of each flight.
Today is the first day of my second retirement. My oft-stated goal of what I would do has been a categorical “NOT be an employee!!” I don’t know how long I’ll be able to abide by that.
But today, I flew again. In my airplane. For me. Alone. On my schedule. For as long as I wanted. Where I wanted to go. On my terms. And I felt a great sense of satisfaction as I sat there listening to the rumble of the old-fashioned radial engine idling before shutdown.
It actually began on day two of a three day trip. After flying “all the way” from Lexington to Cincinnati (27 minutes), we were supposed to fly to Philadelphia for our next overnight. Philadelphia, however, was experiencing long delays due to bad weather and just as the first of our passengers showed up to board the plane, we were told by Air Traffic Control that we had been assigned a “wheels up” time of 8:03PM, more than two hours later than our scheduled departure time. We sent the passengers back into the terminal and shut down the plane.
I immediately began figuring out how this delay would impact the remainder of our trip. Our overnight was a “scheduled reduced rest” of less than 9 hours. "Rest" is computed from 20 minutes after gate arrival to one hour before departure the next morning. Anything between those times is considered "rest," including travel to and from the hotel. By adding the scheduled flight time (block time) to the wheels up time, I knew our rest would be less than 8 hours, which is illegal for a multiple day trip like ours. Reducing our rest to the minimum of 8 hours and shortening our report time in the morning to one half hour before departure would still make the flight late in the morning, but other than cancelling (not my decision), it was the only option. And, by adding the scheduled block time to the adjusted departure time for the next morning meant that we would arrive in Cincinnati 10 minutes after our next leg to Sioux Falls was scheduled to depart. Either the company would allow that flight to run late as well, or another crew would be assigned and we would be “displaced” and assignable to something else that had to finish by the original end of our trip.
After arriving in Philadelphia, I called Crew Scheduling to let them know what our official block-in time so they could compute our report time for the next morning. But when asked, they had no idea whether or not we would be flying the Sioux Falls legs the next morning (too far in advance). They had also inexplicably scheduled the First Officer for a shorter rest period than the rest of the crew! I told the scheduler that the First Officer would report when we did, since they couldn’t use him without the rest of the crew. The hotel van was full, so we were told by the driver we’d have to wait for the next van, which would be along momentarily. That’s ok, we were "resting." Besides, what choice did we have?
Since the leg returning from Sioux Falls was supposed to be my last official flight, there was now a question in my mind of whether or not I would actually fly it. My original plan was to let the First Officer fly the plane to Philadelphia and back, and I would fly to Sioux Falls and back. Now that it was in doubt, I elected to fly the leg back in the morning from Philadelphia. When we got within radio range of Cincinnati, the First Officer called Operations to see if we would keep the plane to Sioux Falls. We were told that the plane we were currently flying was scheduled to go to Omaha, not Sioux Falls. If we were still assigned to fly to Sioux Falls, that meant a plane change, which would further delay the departure. The First Officer prodded a little harder by asking if they knew whether or not this was to be the Captain's last flight. Their response was that the Captain was to call Crew Scheduling after arrival. So we still didn’t know.
It’s a tradition that fire trucks stream crossed arcs of water over the plane as the retiring Captain taxis in to the ramp. We didn’t see any fire trucks, deepening the mystery. I thought that perhaps they weren’t observing that tradition since I was retiring a few months short of my FAA-mandated 60th birthday. Or perhaps I was to fly the Sioux Falls legs (late) after all, or even that I was to be reassigned other legs to a different destination. When we got near our gate, no marshaler showed up to park us, delaying our arrival a few more minutes. Finally, a marshaler appeared and as I taxied up to the gate I saw not one, but eight or nine gate customer service representatives at the walkway. This is unusual, even for a late flight. But then, as I was shutting down the plane, they started to wave at me, which was even more unusual! I looked to my left and saw the Chief Pilot and his staff, smiling and taking pictures. I knew then that I had completed my last flight.
The Chief Pilot took more pictures of me and the crew as we deplaned, the marshaler presented me with the wands he had used for my last taxi-up, and the staff apologized for the absence of the fire trucks. The trucks had been scheduled for the arrival of the Sioux Falls flight at 1:00PM. When the staff realized that we would be late from Philadelphia, and probably not make the Sioux Falls legs, they called to get the trucks out, but the trucks went to the wrong side of the airport! (I wonder if some junior reserve Captain is still trying to figure out why he was met by spraying fire trucks?) The Chief Pilot insisted that he carry my bags to his staff car: “No retiring Captain EVER carries his own bags!!” We drove to his office on the other side of the airport for a short conversation about out-processing procedures, and some very complimentary remarks. He told me that he would mail the pictures he had taken and the usual framed remembrances that are given to all pilots who retire.
I called Crew Scheduling; I was put on hold, so I hung up. I had met the letter of my obligation. I went to check out on the computer terminal, but they all were in use. Besides, the scheduling computer automatically checks us out 20 minutes after our arrival. On the way out the door, I ran in to one of the other two remaining pilots from our new-hire class fourteen and a half years ago. We exchanged goodbyes, and promised to keep in touch. I had a plane to catch. It was the Omaha flight, on the plane that I had flown in from Philadelphia earlier that morning. Even though I had changed out of my uniform, one of the gate agents recognized me as the Captain that had brought the plane in. She congratulated me on my retirement and wished me well.
I have spent almost 11,000 hours carrying thousands of passengers safely across millions of miles to their destinations. In only four instances was I unable to get them to their destinations after we got airborne. In two cases, it was mechanical failures that caused us to divert. In the other two instances, it was because of weather at our destination would have delayed us beyond our capability to remain airborne (ironically, in both cases, the alternate station was the same). In every instance, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at the end of each flight.
Today is the first day of my second retirement. My oft-stated goal of what I would do has been a categorical “NOT be an employee!!” I don’t know how long I’ll be able to abide by that.
But today, I flew again. In my airplane. For me. Alone. On my schedule. For as long as I wanted. Where I wanted to go. On my terms. And I felt a great sense of satisfaction as I sat there listening to the rumble of the old-fashioned radial engine idling before shutdown.
