As I look out side while I write this I would be fouled to think that it is Christmas time. With no snow on the ground and the weather near 40 degrees out I am still holding out for a Christmas miracle to happen. For me in Ohio, it is rare that I dont see a white layer of snow on the ground as I open presents on Christmas morning. This year I suppose, may just be a non-scenic Christmas. Aside from no snow, I am sick as well. All in all though I am happy because no one can complain around Christmas time. Yesterday I got the best Christmas present of all… I asked my girlfriend to, well be my girlfriend (That makes my Christmas right there). When I picked her up yesterday to spend a wonderful day with her, her father gave me a Boeing 737 cockpit poster! If I forgot to mention her father is a Southwest First Officer! To be honest I was excited because I love aviation posters so it was great.
Although this post doesn’t pertain much to flying, I wanted to take a little time to wish all of my readers out there a Merry Christmas! I hope that all of you are safe during this holiday season and if you are flying over Christmas I wish you all a happy terminal filled weekend! I know one of my dear friends is flying to Amsterdam on the holidays and I wish him a very special over seas Merry Christmas. I sure hope that all of you pilots out there get all the FAA charts, foggles, Ray-Ban Aviators, knee-boards, and all other aviation goodies you had on your list for Santa this year. But other than that quit reading this and be with the ones you love, because that is truly what this time of the year is all about.
I found this funny aviation translated story of: “Twas the Night before Christmas”, and though I would share it with you.
”Santa’s Quick Turn”
Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tie downs with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fire trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the watch desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I’d have sworn that the call sign he used was “St. Nick”.
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
“St. Nicholas One, turnin’ left onto final.”
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glide slope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
“Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!” What pills was he takin’?
The controllers were sittin’, and scratchin’ their head,
They phoned my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
“When Santa pulls in, please have him call the tower.”
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard “Left at Charlie,” and “Taxi to parking.”
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a “Ho, ho, ho.”
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I responded with Crash One, the fire truck that can rock.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all brown from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on his pipe, but he didn’t inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly;
His boots were as black as a crop duster’s belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked where to fill it, with hundred low lead.
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump;
I knew he was anxious for drainin’ the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
Fire-guarding the sleigh, like an eager young Turk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset and I heard him yell, “Clear!”
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
“Use runway 30 for a northbound direction,
Depart heading three-six-zero at pilot’s discretion”
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
“Your traffic’s a Cessna, inbound from the west.”
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
“Merry Christmas to all, I have traffic in sight” -Unknown
Until Next Time,