Every time I fly into Wichita, I can’t help but get that White Stripes tune in my head.
I’m going to Wichita, far from this opera for evermore…
That’s beside the point. Anyway, the other day I had been given a somewhat last-minute assignment – fly to Wichita. Really, it wasn’t last minute, but it was close. I had ninety minutes to get to the plane. I made it there in sixty, so I guess that makes me the man. When I got to the gate I greeted a handful of the passengers and smiled at them sure that we would be pushing back for an “on time departure.”
Right.
Well, I got down to the plane. I looked around a little bit, and discovered that this plane had not yet flown that day. That means that there are a whole lot of additional checks that need to be done. No big deal, but there was one problem: where is the Captain? Oh well, I thought. I’d just do my jobs and his and those checks that need to be done. That’s what you do unless your a total douchébag. Nobody wants to be known as that guy who throws the other guy under the bus. If you’ve got the time, help out. What goes around comes around and all that.
I had gotten nearly everything done when I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes till push. “I’ll give him five more minutes.” We were ready to go anyway. All he needed to do was sit down really. I waited for five more minutes and then I made the call.
“Crew tracking this is Donna!”
“Hi Donna, this is Jack Ensor, I’m working the 2135 to Wichita. I’m sans Captain.”
“Oh we know. He’s going to be a little late. He’s doing some ‘paperwork’ and wont be there for another 45 minutes. You’re going to take a delay.”
Well, you know, delays happen. There is nothing that can be done about the majority of them. Anything that can be scheduled can be delayed. So there I was. I called air traffic control and told them to extend our flight plan, and went inside. Inside, the people had already been notified that the flight was delayed. The nice Wichita people that I had seen before weren’t so smiley. Some of them looked panicked. I sympathize with these people though. I know that they have weddings to attend and in-laws picking them up and business to take care of. Delays suck. Period. A few of them scowled at me. I don’t feel badly for those people. I mean, believe me, if I could have legally taken them myself, I would have, but I can’t. Don’t scowl at me. I’m the one who is here. I’ve grown pretty tough skin though, and I kind of give those people my best customer service shiteating grin.
I went back out to the plane and saw that I missed a call on my phone while walking around on the noisy ramp (apron for the Canucks). Donna called me to tell me that the Captain was going to be late at least another hour, and she hoped that I hadn’t boarded the passengers already. Of course I hadn’t boarded them. Who would put fifty people on a plane in that was missing half its flight crew? Come on.
Anyway, back out in the airplane I noticed that I was starting to feel a little tired. I wasn’t fatigued, but just a little tired, so I did some investigating. “Hmm…I’ve been at work for thirteen hours. Woah wait.” Little flags start going off after you’ve been at work for more than twelve hours. Don’t get me wrong a twelve to fourteen-hour workday is pretty common for us, but usually we’re on our way to the hotel by that time. I still had a two-hour flight ahead of me. That meant that even if we left right then I would finish my day at fifteen hours of duty. In the US there is a regulation that says that there must be a minimum of eight ours of duty-off time in any twenty four hour period. Needless to say, if you exceed sixteen hours at work, you’re in violation of that rule. Look, I know that might sound complicated, but let’s just say that if the flight cannot be completed with a reasonable expectation that we will park at the destination (Wichita in this case) under sixteen hours, the flight cannot take off. So I called Donna.
“Donna, we need to find a Captain fast.”
“Why?”
“Because if we’re not airborne in fifty-five minutes, I’ll turn into a pumpkin and we’ll have to return to the gate.”
“Ok, he’s on his way”
Well, needless to say and to no fault of his own, it took the Captain thirty more minutes to get there. We boarded the angry passengers and pushed back. At that point we had five minutes to get the plane in the air. We made the last turn around the terminal to find ourselves in line behind about fifteen other aircraft for take off. We missed the window. We lapped around Terminal four at Sky Harbor Airport. The Captain looked at me, “you’re the one who just timed out, you tell them.”
The “them” was the fifty delayed and extremely pissed off passengers in the seats behind me. I had a pretty good feeling that the flight was going to cancel, but it’s not my decision, so I kept it positive.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking. Again I want to thank you for your incredible patients this evening in our late departure, and unfortunately I have some bad news. I began my workday this morning at 6:30 am and due to federal regulation and our previous delay, I cannot complete this flight within the allotted and prescribed time. We are not able to take off. We will be returning to the gate. I am certain that XYZ airlines will do everything in their power to find a replacement for me. Thank you again for your patience, and again I am sorry for this situation. If you need to use your cellphones to call your people in Wichita, please feel free to do so while we taxi back to the gate.”
I think that the public address system must have been somewhat garbled. Based on the looks on their faces when I was getting off the plane I think the passengers heard, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m a douchebag, and you’re not getting to Wichita tonight. I hate you and I’m going to bed.”
Donna called me as I was getting off the plane. “We’re deadheading you to Wichita in the morning.” A deadhead is a repositioning of a crew member. Basically, I wasn’t going to be the pilot flying to Wichita, but I needed to be in Wichita to fly a plane out of there. So they basically but me in a seat in the back.
I went to my apartment, wrapped myself in one of Jason’s sleeping bags and crashed on the futon. I got up in the morning and headed back to the airport to catch my deadhead to Wichita. As I rounded the corner to the boarding area I stopped dead in my tracks. I guess they canceled the my flight from the night before, because all of those people were in the boarding area. We were all going to be riding to Wichita together in coach. I went up to the crewroom and changed out of my uniform. I put on my regular pants and a green collared shirt and a ball cap. I didn’t want any of these people recognizing me. I boarded the plane and sat down in my seat. Across the aisle from me was a man and a woman. I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“That f@#$ing copilot asshole. I can’t believe that he did that to us last night.” My face went stark. ‘Oh she didn’t just call me a copilot did she?’ The man looked at me, “Sorry, our flight last night to Wichita canceled because some pilot needed some sleep.” I raised my eyebrows, “Oh, how terrible for you. I hope the rest of your weekend gets better.” The woman downed her Jack Daniels. “I f@#$ing hope so. I mean everybody has a bad day, but that copilot was a real dick.” I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a real downer.” If you didn’t catch it, she was talking about me. Hehehehehehe. I just let her go.
About half way through the flight I had gotten up to throw something away, as I was walking back to my seat a man sitting directly behind the potty-mouthed woman made eye contact with me. ‘Damnit,’ I though, ‘I’ve been made! Just keep a lid on it man. They’ll crucify me’ He piped up, “HEY, THAT’S THE PILOT FROM LAST NIGHT! Did you get some sleep buddy?” I smiled and said nothing. I gave the man a half salute and moved for my seat. Ms. Potty Mouth looked like she had had a stroke. She glanced at me in horror and then she stared out the window for the remainder of the flight.
This copilot drank his Diet Coke with a smile the rest of the way to Wichita.
