what is your funniest training story with a student

[Major Bedhead]

Had a student doing a checkout on C210T.

This was for a contract that represented a lot of flying for the upcoming season (ie. look out bad guys) so he wanted to impress.

On descent from 5K I told him that the gear wasn't cycling ...

He did the checks with no luck and started the manual gear extension.

For those who haven't had the fun of the Centurion, there is handle on the left seat that you have to turn ONE MILLION times (no it's 50 according to the POH .. but it feels like a million) to manually extend the gear.

So the student checks the breakers, gear lever etc. etc etc. and starts frantically ... and I mean frantically cranking the gear lever.

Problem is .. he's cranking the seat adjustment .... and like the Jeffersons .. moving on up.

All the meantime ATC is giving him vectors and all kinds of info that he really doesn't want to hear ... but he's still cranking and acknowledging.

With his head pretty well perpendicular to the ceiling .. he looks at me .. like Bambi with an 18 wheeler bearing down ...

As a good instructor I say .. Don't look at me .. they're talking to you!

His nickname for the duration of his training .. was OFFWHITE ... and yes I bought him a Tshirt with this printed ...

[TTJJ]

I suppose we shouldn't just beat on the students.
I wasn't going to tell this, but what the heck.

Me as a student on a DC-10-30.

My very first flight on the A/C, going from Brazil to KLAX.

Over Mexico at FL350, my instructor is giving me a lesson on the TOGA (Take Off and Go Around switch). Fine and dandy

(It is not supposed to arm below 2500' radio altimeter as I remember)
He is going "yackity, yackity, yack while you are on approach and then you hit the TOGA like this. "

Boom

The plane goes nuts.

From Mach .82 it tries to pitch up to find Vref +10 (about 145kts). The pitch for Vref +10 at this speed is roughly 90 degrees straight up because the pitch limitation also died. I remember seeing a real nice full moon in the windscreen.

I am the student. It is my first flight. I don't know what the heck he is doing, so I just sit and watch the show. Neat show.

He is going wacko trying to turn off the A/P. The PFE (Professional Flight Engineer, a career 2nd Off.) is trying to pull CB's. The F/A's are hanging on because they were serving breakfast. The pax are covered with food and puke.

Of course nothing would re-engage, so I got to hand fly the thing for 3 hours.
And I thought Commercial Flying was going to be boring!!!

Strangely enough, I had a new instructor on my next flight.


This cemented in my mind my style of flying as a captain years later.

When I wake up from my own loud snoring, I ask the F/O if he is OK or has to go to the bathroom. I then look arround, and if everything is OK I don't touch anything and go back to sleep.

Easy!!!

Commercial Flying is kind of boring afterall.

[tequesta]

Had to jump in here with a few !!!

My first student was the worse smelling individual on earth (breath mainly). I would always taxi with the door open even in -20 weather to keep some fresh air circulating. He would always ask "Aren't you cold" ! Anyway, one day he asked me a question about the rolling instrument ck and our heads turned towards eachother and our faces met as he was exhaling and I was inhaling. I then turned promptly and puked out the door. No jokes !

I also had a girl over Simcoe doing steep turns when she started to cry and asked for a barf bag. I gave her the bag and as she leaned forward to puke into a bag in went her head set mike right into the bottom of the bag. The 30 minute flight home all I could here was gurgling and barf short circuiting her David Clarks. Laughed my ass off.

Had one guy who came storming in when I was working dispatch bitching about radio problems and how we sold him a shitty headset. When outside and the idiot had his head set jacks plugged into a crack in the dash board. How stupid can you be.

Lastly - I was flying with this Persian guy who was a natural but had no clue when it came to the radio work. I made him a little radio sheet to put on his knee board with the pertinent calls. YKZ gets pretty busy so I found it helpful for them to have a reference. Sitting in the holding bay for 33 I told him to call ready for T/O. He hits the PTT and says "Buttonville Tower GJOB is clear north at 2400 feet". We were in the f'in holding bay. Response from tower was "Is there an instructor on board". I came bace with an "Affirmative" in the best girls voice I could do.

Lots more but no time.........

[Right Seat Captain]

One day there was a guy on the field who had bought an aircraft, and decided to test out the radios. He was by himself, and we could see him from the clubhouse rearranging his headset and seaming pretty frustrated. We never heard him call for any radio checks at the Unicom. He came in and complained that he was gypped and bought a faulty radio. So I went out there to have a look. Turned on the master, set the frequency and did the radio check:
"Rockcliffe unicom, FXXX for a radio check" They reply:
"Rockcliffe Unicom reads you 5 by 5, and FSS called and asked that someone quit trying to make radio checks on 121.5."

Apparently the lad had made numerous calls on 121.5, and they even called him back on 121.5 to tell him to stop, but he didn't get it.

[Shtinky]

Had to jump in here with a few !!!

My first student was the worse smelling individual on earth (breath mainly)....and our faces met as he was exhaling and I was inhaling. I then turned promptly and puked out the door. No jokes

Had one guy who came storming in when I was working dispatch bitching about radio problems and how we sold him a shitty headset. When outside and the idiot had his head set jacks plugged into a crack in the dash board. How stupid can you be.

Tequesta...that's f****** hilarious!

[duplicate2]

Okay, this didn't happen to me, but I heard it from a friend.

A student who finished up his PPL was getting checked out on a new aircraft. As they flew back from the practice area, the student asked if he could try the AUTO function on the radio selector panel. The instructor saw no harm in this and told him to go ahead. The student fiddles with the switch for a bit and then promptly lets go of the controls. After a bit, as the aircraft begins to spiral, the instructor takes control and asks the student what the f#ck he was doing. Seems this poor lad thought 172s were way better equipped than the 150s he was used to.

[TTJJ]

Years later I am an instructor on B-737-200's.

I received a student who had been sent back to the training dept. because of attitude. He never stopped talking about what he knew.

His nickname was "7-11" because his mouth was open 24 hours a day.

He was 50, had been a maintenance inspector for 20 years, then a PFE for 6 and now wanted to finish his career as a pilot.

He had already progressed through the CMG phase of his career (Call Me God) to the final GCMG (God Calls Me God) phase.

O boy...

Getting close to SBLO (look it up) it was pouring rain. It has an NDB App. so I asked him if he wanted me to do it. He replied "What’s the matter, you think I can't"

Ok fine.

Turning inbound off of the procedure turn it is supposed to be "Gear down, Flaps 15, Landing checklist down to flaps". The gear goes first because of the gear warning horn.

There we were inbound, and he calls "Flaps 15"

Me....”uh, OK”......gear horn....BBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

He looks arround like he is searching for a mosquito that is bothering him.

"Flaps 25",he calls...........BBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...he is frantically looking around......the mosquito is REALLY bugging him now.

I figured we are about 5 miles out so I asked 'you want the landing checklist?"

He yells over the horn and the God awful "Schuwacka" sound of the wipers" Yeah"
I have no idea why he turned on the wipers while in the cloud.

(NB. For those of you who have never flown a Boeing, the windshield wipers do everything EXCEPT clear the windshield. If you ascribe to the Duck Theorem, (as in, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..then it is a duck), you would swear that they were indeed windshield wipers. After all they look like wipers, move like wipers and kind of sound like wipers.......but they are not. All that they do is flail around and make noise and scratch the wind shield. When not in use, they invariably sit parked exactly in front of your aiming point on the runway thereby blocking it from view.
There used to be a thing called Rain Repellent. It worked great. But the tree huggers decided that it was bad for the environment and it was removed.
Personally, I think that spreading 100,000lbs of plane, fuel and guts all over the landscape, because you couldn’t see dick while landing in the rain is worse for the environment. But hey, what do I know......)

Sadly, I find that as I age I tend to ramble on more and more.

I digress....

Me ok "Landing checklist......blah, blah, blah..Gear?......."
Him,"down 3 green"
Me, "Hmmmmmm.......this going to get interesting"

The rain is pounding, the cockpit rings of BBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAA and Schuwacka,schuwacka,schuwacka of the wipers, and 7-11 is heading for minimums, all the while looking around to find the source of all those hordes of demons from hell that are screaming at him.

"Landing Flaps 40" he positively bellows over the din.

Fine with me.

We level at the MDA and wait for the runway to come into view. BBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, SCHUWACKA....... SCHUWACKA ... SCHUWACKA ......raining sloshing on the windscreen from wind gusts....when the GPWS enters the fray screaming “TOO LOW GEAR, TOO LOW GEAR...”
I thought that last bit might have given the guy a hint as to the problem. No such luck.

I’d had about as much fun as I could take for one approach, so I bellowed " It is frigging noisy in here don't you think?"
"Sure is. It is driving me nuts"
"You want me to maybe try and fix it?", my voice echoed about the cockpit.
"Can you?" he asks
'I'll try my best", I managed to mouth while reaching over for the gear handle.

...Kaboomp.....horn ends.....GPWS shuts up. "Gear down. Landing checklist complete," I state.

Then I said, "Runway in sight 12 o’clock, we just broke out visual...and it even kinda stopped raining. Do you want to kill the wipers?"

...............silence, beautiful silence........

We landed, and I was wondering how to talk about the approach with out stepping on the guy.

"Well, what did you think about your approach?" I asked him

He said, "I made a really smooth landing didn’t I. And you thought I couldn't do it," while giving me a know-all wink and a playful punch on my arm.

..........I got stuck 40 more days with him.......



To all the Aviation Medical Examiners out there;
this is why I drink. Please don't ask me anymore how much I drink per week, 'cause I'm going to have to lie to you. I don’t want to lie to you............but I’m going to have to.

Just leave me be.

[TTJJ]

This thread has led me to reminisce (something that I normally adroitly avoid due to the inevitable attack of gastritis that it brings on) on experiences with students in Airline Training. This is in no way meant to snub AB Initio training stories as I, alas, hail from the camp of ex-starving instructors in Canada.

These stories are all true. Not one is fiction. They are meant to show that those students, whom we have all had, who:
- had obviously skipped their basic co-ordination classes early in life,
- those students who made us rolled our eyes to the ceiling upon seeing their name on our booking sheet
- those students who would not normally be aloud out in public without adult supervision but have enough money to demand a pilots licence,
- those students who, lets face it, were a waste of perfectly good DNA

can and sometimes DO stumble through their careers to arrive at the upper echelons of our profession, exactly as they left their flight schools years before. That is, with out much of a clue but having somehow passed all of the tests.

These students all seemed to land in my lap. From this I can deduce that either our Training Dept. thought that I was the most patient and qualified instructor in our company, or that someone in the Scheduling Dept. hated my guts.

I am more inclined to believe the second.

To all the starving instructors out there I say, “Have faith!” One day you will be out of your current position. And should you so choose an airline career, the day will come when being an Airline Training Captain,
- you will roll your eyes at the thought of the student you have been given,
- wonder how they can be let to walk in public unsupervised,
- and wonder what MOT was thinking all these years to not have weeded out these guys.

To wit:

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE ON FINAL


My candidate for an initial F/O spot on a B-737-200 (for our purposes we will name him George) was a likeable chap of 24. He was an accountant by training, was about 6’2 and weighed around 240lbs. Most of his weight seemed to be comprised of sort of an off jaundiced coloured Jell-O.

He was, as a pilot, what one would generously call “ballast”. That is he was merely present, doing not much more that adding to the lateral stability of the aircraft.

George had obviously followed religiously the co-ordination trait number one as listed above.

On decent one day as is the norm, George donned the aircraft headset and pulled forth and connected his shoulder harness. (Headsets were only mandatory during Taxi, Climb and Decent. They were inserted way up over ones outboard shoulder. About six inches from the plugs the wires were screwed to the fuselage in a bracket to prevent theft. You could use your own, but the aircraft’s was firmly attached.) He had a bit of a fight with it though as it became entangled with his sunglass strap and his headset wires. But by and by he sorted things out.

Unbeknownst to him, he had somehow put a loop around his neck and had placed his shoulder harness OVER the wires, clamping them. The wires were coated with a rubbery substance, not being slippery at all.

When I called for the gear, George leaned forward to reach the handle. The loop around his neck tightened and the cord made a half hitch, biting deeply and disappearing into his oh so fleshy protuberance where a neck would normally reside.

George started to make the most ghastly noises, and our sterile cockpit below 10,000 instantly became un-so.

With George’s hands at his throat and me over the outer marker, we were in a bit of a situation.

George released his harness and tried to STAND on his seat all the while yanking at the headset plugs. This of course did nothing as the headset was screwed down tight to the aircraft.

I bellowed for the flight attendant to help as George was quite panicked and was grabbing everything in sight, including the column.

The Chief Purser was himself a burly creature who rose to the challenge of bulldogging George with gusto. He was also it seemed to be a fan of Saturday Night Wrestling as he tried to apply all manner of headlock and armlock on George, all to no avail. Pity, there was no room for a figure-4 leg lock, as that probably would have done the trick.

A quick thinking F/A brought forward a small pair of scissors (9-11 not withstanding) that she carried for her nails. The Chief Purser managed to cut the wires, but they were so buried in George’s neck as to still be choking him. No manner of simple relief was in sight for George with him flailing about, so the Chief Purser reared back and gave George such a shot on the nose as to make ANY Olympic Boxing Gold Medallist proud.

The ensuing blood storm seemed to capture George’s attention long enough for the Chief Purser to shove his fingers into that gelatinous mass about George’s neck and YANK free the cord. This caused a great gash rather ominously close to his jugular.

As all the blood seemed to be eminating from somewhere near the center of George’s face, I concluded that the jugular had been missed.

The GPWS called “TOO LOW GEAR”. I then realised that with all George’s shenanigans, we hadn’t even lowered the gear!

I set the plane up correctly with the Chief Purser holding onto George with a bear hug.

The landing as such, was uneventful.

After turning off the runway I looked back in the cabin to see that no one had closed the curtain to the galley. There were 100 heads leaning into the corridor with 100 pairs of eyes bugging out of their respective heads.

I had thought to make a little announcement over the PA, but what would one say? "This the Captain, welcome to ---. The F/O just tried to hang himself. Please mind the blood on your way out..." Some things are best left un-said.

George left aviation and went back to bean counting after having recovered from his plastic surgery. He now makes about 10 times more than I do.

I received a new student.

The Chief Purser received an award.
(He also left aviation, when weeks later on an overnight his wife called his room at 2:00 AM. He had arranged for a local lass to spend that night with him. It was she who answered his phone in a sleepy daze at this un-Godly hour.
“You want to talk with who? It’s for you dear.” She said, handing the phone to our recent hero, then turning over and going back to sleep
“Hello?”
“AND WHO THE HELL IS THAT WHO ANSWERED THE PHONE?” his wife demanded
“Uhhhhh...”)

He will be missed.

[PA31 Driver]

I'm really enjoying these stories

[flynbutcher]

I know a student that really bent the prop out of shape after a botched landing on his cross country, after examining the inward bent prop he decided to fly it back to the flight school and then left without telling anyone. It was only when the next kid came out to do his walkaround that it was discovered. Needless to say he got the boot.

[PA31 Driver]

This just happened today....................not that funny but one of my students went solo today and when he was done he pulled the plane up to the school and I noticed the plugs were still in it.......( lol ) ...... he flew for an hour and never took them out........Always good for a laugh........

[TTJJ]

We as instructors have the best interests of our students at heart. We challenge them, console them, and even upbraid them for their own good. If a student is weak, although keen, we tend to wrack our brains to figure out what the guy/gal really needs to improve.

I had a candidate for Capt. who was transitioning from a different aircraft to the B-737-200 just like that. He was coming from a 3-crew aircraft where he had been a F/O.

The cushiest job in aviation is being a F/O on an aircraft that has a 2nd Officer. The 2nd Officer does the walk around, the checklist, the takeoff computations, the emergency checklist, the works. As a F/O you just have to fly, talk on the radio and keep your nose clean. Easy enough even for me. It is even better if you have PFE’s in your company (Professional Flight Engineer) because they are just as old and as tired as the Captain at the end of the day. That leaves just YOU and the flight attendants to hit the overnight! (heh heh heh)

The down side of this cushy job is that you don’t do anything and your brain turns to mush. The hardest thing I found giving initial Captain training to these guys is that they act like new Private Pilot students in that they can’t really think fast anymore.

My guy, Pete, was like that. We had been together for about a week and it was obvious that Pete was going to take a while longer than normal. He also had a confidence problem from having flown with the old “Sky Gods” in our company (they were the old 30-year in jerks) for the past 8 years.

While Pete was in the bathroom I set up a little “gotcha” to see if he would pick up on it. On a 737, if you do a fuel gauge test, the needles on each tank will drive themselves to zero. If you wait until the needles are really low and then you pull the circuit breaker for the gauges, the needles will stay in that position looking for all the world like you are about to run out of fuel. Classic gag, but this was a training exercise. Uh huh...

(One thing I must mention to the new lads in the crowd is that the VERY FIRST THING you learn in a simulator is that if you have ANY problem electrical you first check the circuit breakers. Some you reset some you don’t, but you check them.)

I thought that I would leave Pete alone in the cockpit for a while. (Not withstanding the CARS, this is a GREAT confidence builder. It is kind of like sending a guy solo in a multicrew aircraft.). Pete came back and I went to the galley for some coffee and a chat. We started getting a bit of turbulence and I felt the aircraft start to descend.

“Smart lad”, I thought. He is looking for smoother air and it felt like he was turning and deviating from some storm cells as well. I didn’t remember having seen anything on the radar, but I figured that I would leave him alone in the cockpit with his decisions for a while just to build up his self-confidence.

After about 5 minutes we were strangely still going down and I returned to my seat.

Lo and behold, Pete had indeed seen the fuel gauges,

and-Pete-went-nuts.

Pete had declared a fuel emergency, stated his estimated fuel remaining as 30minutes (we had 3.5 hours on board) and had informed ATC that we were heading for an airport about 60 degree left of course. He had already descended about 12,000 ft from our cruising altitude of 31,000. As we were in the middle of nowhere, we were using the HF radios, which was iffy at the best of times in this area. Try as I may I couldn’t get through to cancel his friggen mayday call.

We had been cleared down to 15,000 ft., which was the base of controlled airspace in that area. I couldn’t climb back up to try and raise someone on VHF because he had acknowledged the clearance. We had another 1.5 hours to go to destination and the airport he was headed for was about 60 miles (12 min.) away. The airport poor Pete had picked was closed after Midnight and not really suited for 737’s. It was now about 2:00 AM, so I knew that ATC would be rousing the airport manager from his bed to light up the airport for the “inbound emergency”. I also knew that if I continued to destination without getting hold of someone, after 45 minutes every single SAR aircraft in the country would be searching for the “downed 737 in the Amazon Jungle”.

I told Pete to get back on course to destination and set about trying to raise somebody on the radio. After 10 minutes, I was talking to an American Airlines flight and I had them relay a message to ATC.

Me, “American.... Listen...I had called in a Fuel Emergency to Center about 15 minutes ago.........and I would like you to cancel that for me....ok?”

American, ”You want us to cancel your Fuel Emergency? What did you do, refuel in flight?”

Sigh, (you get the idea)

As luck would have it, there was a mechanic buddy of mine on board. (He is studying for his Masters degree in Theology...go figure). After explaining my predicament to him, this future Saint decided to save my Heathen ass.

We put the CB back in and the fuel gauges came back up to where they were suppose to be. We then pulled the CB again to freeze the needles at this value. About 90 minutes and 9000lbs. of fuel later, we landed at our destination to be met by EVERYBODY except Captain Kirk and Spock. Before any of them could get in the cockpit and fire our sorry asses, my buddy opened up the CB panel behind the F/O’s seat and shorted out one of the p.c. cards in there and then pushed back in the CB. The needles remained frozen at the wrong value. (I know, I know...tampering with an aeroplane... Pete has 2 kids and I have 1.... Sue me)

After dipping the tanks and getting our written statements, DAC (The local MOT) said that we had done a good job. It must have been the gauges.
(You see your Honour, we saw the tanks going to zero and as it was night and we were having communication problems with HF, we though it best to declare the emergency fast. After the indicators went to zero and we didn’t flame out, we decided that it was a gauge problem and instead of forcing the A/C onto an iffy runway and maybe crashing, we continued to destination with its better runway...)

I received a flowery letter of commendation from the company. It read, ”For good sound judgement and not putting the aircraft and its passengers in danger during a stressful situation”

Yeah right. My Dad always said that I could fall into an outhouse and come out smelling like roses.

Pete got through his course and is now a Captain.

I have been going lately to my buddy’s church, although we both know that I am still a heathen at heart.

'Twas all in the best interests of the student. Whew...

And all you guys out there thought that this kind of crap ended when you got out of instructing. Fat chance.

[Vickers vanguard]

Excellent stories TJ...............the good old days in aviation

[ahramin]

That is as shameful a story as i have ever heard. Loved it.

[Icebound]

Back in the 60s, (and probably still), the Winnipeg Flying Club's standard XC was to Brandon, full Stop, then back to Winnipeg via Neepawa. What passed as FSS way back then got to meet them all, as they always walked in to file the return.

So one fine day Instructor walks in with his sweet-young-thing student, having arrived from YWG, and they file back.

A week or so later, syt arrives by herself.... she is on her solo....files back to YWG and asks where CFxyz is, he was "right behind her". It was her instructor of last week, now dual with another student. He took off YWG immediately after her, so he could keep an eye on her.

Sure enough the flight plan is on file with the ETA of about NOW, but no xyz. 15 minutes go by, syt is a little annoyed, because her instructor told her to wait for him, and she could have been on her way by now.

Another 10 minutes go by... and may have even started some preliminary "overdue" procedures.... when xyz finally calls for wind and QNH and lands nearly 20 minutes past latest ETA.

Maybe his worries were valid.... syt was navigating by basically following highway 1... when she realized she was too close and too high, she peeled off rather quickly into the descent.

Meantime, our hero's student had put his mind in perfect neutral, following the plane in front of him and apparently not doing any navigating at all. Our hero instructor, apparently spending too much time watching syt and not enough on his own chart, failed to note their location as well.

When syt peeled off, our two heroes missed it, and started looking for her...instead of calling....or navigating... They had passed Brandon by 10 minutes, before they realized their nav mistake, and finally turned back.

It's possible that it was the same student, who, some weeks later in the same year, managed to cross the border into SK on his YWG to YBR solo cross-country, and landed at Esterhazy. He then phoned the Winnipeg Flying Club, and asked them if he should fly back. They apparently said no, they would pick him up.

[PA31 Driver]

great story TJ.........

I would love to hear any more like that one......

[oldtimer]

I was instructing out of the Regina Flying Club in the early 60's. Alway had a problem with certain students who, instead of pulling the throttle back to idle, would push in full power till my father, who was a farm equipment mechanic, explained that that was the way it worked on tractors and crawler tractors. I thought that was a habit that should be easy to overcome till I had the opertunity to skin a Cat used to level the ice strip and it is hard. I always pulled on full throttle instead of idle power.

[Redneck_pilot86]

I had that problem when I first started training...it is hard to overcome, but once you get used to it it is ok.

[cowboy]

Must be something with RFC a/c I had the same problem for the first 3 or 4 flights .

[looproll]

Am I in Canada?

I was about to depart on a solo training flight towards my commercial licence in the fine city of Lethbridge. If any of you have visited, you know it can get a tad windy at times. This day was no exception. The wind was howling steady from the west, nearly down-the-pipe of rwy 23.

I was performing the run-up when I noticed another C-172 "buzzing" the runway only to pull-up and go around and buzz another of the 4 approaches at YQL. As this continued, FSS got on the horn advising me of this awol 172 that he had not established radio contact.

As I completed my checklist I glanced-up to see this wayward 172 flaring over rwy 12 only to weathercock into the stiff west wind and depart the runway. It had rained recently, so when it zoomed off, the nosewheel dug-in to the muck and the prop became an expensive rototiller. I shrugged and proceeded to takeoff on my training exercise using the into-wind runway.

Upon return to the airport, the county guys had removed the aircraft and it was tied down in front of our hangar with a gorgeous girl nearby, out in the wind bawling her eyes out on a cell phone. After securing my own craft, I spoke with her.

She was on her first solo cross country and got a little lost. She was Northbound and must have wandered off track only to become hopelessly lost. She found a city and circled around to discover an airport, attempted to land a few times but had some trouble with the wind. In such a panicked state she did well getting the airplane down at an airport. She could have run out of gas just the same.

Turns out when she landed in Lethbridge, Alberta, she wasn’t even aware that she was in Canada! This beautiful gal had departed an airport in MONTANA to go to 2 other airports in that state as part of her private pilot course. Customs was not happy.

I helped replace her prop with a spare we had at the school, and according to our AME it did not require a teardown. Her instructor drove-up from Montana and flew the plane back.

I still don’t know if we ever got that prop back! Oh well, prop or not, I got her phone number!

[looproll]

As familiarisation pilot at an Air Cadet summer camp, it was my job to take groups of cadets on basic fam. flights around Gimli, Manitoba in a Cessna 172. It was becoming routine and the most keen cadet (or the heaviest) would get to ride in the front and take the controls.

One particularly hot and humid summer day, I was doing the standard circuit around town. I was in the mandatory dark-blue, wool flight suit and was having a delightful time in the heat. The cadets all wear T-Shirts and shorts with a snazzy tilly hat. I envied them, but this time it was not I who would have a problem with the heat.

I demoed roll, yaw and then PITCH. The cadets in the back seat got a kick out of the light feeling in the seat as I pushed gently forward. The fellow in the front who was following-along had gotten quiet and then out of nowhere shouted, “STOP”. About a microsecond later, he started blowing chunks. Not full-blown barfing, but the kind of indication you get from a rumbling volcano that is about to erupt, coughing ash here and there.

At this point I went into hyper mode searching for the airsick bag. Where in hell was it? In the glove box? No! In the side pockets? The seat-back pockets? I had the two in the back digging as I frantically searched up front. I had no luck as the front-seater’s condition progressed. His cheeks puffed-out squirrel style, and I had the bright idea to open his window.

“Do it out the window!” I exclaimed.

Damn. We were still doing 100KT and when he let loose, it sprayed back to the poor souls seated behind me. The looks on their face!

By this time we were on a wide base for the runway. I immediately slowed the airplane and began descent for landing. He kept chugging puke out the window, sort of. The cadet must have been a bit weary of the slipstream as his mouth wasn’t quite out the window.

The two in the back threw themselves to the far left side to avoid the spray, which was accumulating on the back seat and windows. He managed to get his head out the window more as he relieved himself of all his mess-hall nourishment and I slipped down to final, which helped a bit.

The smell in that roasting cockpit was revolting. I had to open my side window and lean over as close to it as possible to keep from inspiring the awful air inside.

All this time the microphone boom on his shiny new David Clark headset hadn’t been moved. Along with a symphony of spew, the mic got it’s fair share of puke stuck in it.

After the flight I inspected the plane to find the remains of his chow streaked down the fuselage and bit on the horizontal stab. I had him help me clean for a while, but the kid still looked pretty green so I sent him back to the shacks and finished the nasty job.

Now, whenever I take passengers or students, “barf bag in reach” is on the checklist! It seems no matter how many times I tell them “let me know if you feel ill AT ALL any time during the flight”, my pax blow-up from the mouth without warning. Must be the turbulence

[PA31 Driver]

I was once on my way to New Jersey with a friend of mine. the map was there on his lap.................and yep you guessed it................all of a sudden he let go ..............


so there I was with a map full of puke and no bags, towels, or paper to clean up.........................I never asked for so many DF steers in my life ..................and the smell.............damn

[Snagmaster E]

Major Bedhead - if you have more, please fill us in.

TJ - I nearly pissed myself laughing - Keep 'em coming!!


Can't say I've had anything as funny as that.....

- had a student start up with a cowling cover still on the 172 (he was luuuuucky)
-nose plugs left in
- I watched a student (not mine) fill the fuel tanks with a quart of oil on his multi ride.
- had one try and take off with full flaps in a 172
- told one student to lean during a cross country and he proceeded to pull idle cut-off
- To all the MFC guys.... "this is Lloyd over the lobster" and "what kind of man goes into another man's room and steals his grease?"
- heard of one student who went up to the AME and say (on the 172), "the propellor drive belt is loose ".

[TTJJ]

(Once again I must remind all that these are real stories gleaned from personal experience during the last 27 years of flying.)

Self-sacrifice

As anyone who plays sports knows, sometimes you have to sacrifice your body for the team. In instructing, I found out that it is the same thing. You freeze your butt off warming up the planes in the morning for the students. You may have to fuel the plane in the rain for them. You even sit crooked in the plane to give them room to fly to the detriment of your back.

One wouldn’t think so, but the sacrifice continues on into the jet environment.

If you have read any of other posts you will be acquainted with my ex-student Sev. (This was the name that he was universally known by…as in 7-11. Just like his mouth—it never closes.)

Sev had been testing the gear and the rivets on our 737-200 for the past 5 days. He would do four landings a day and as a consequence do four gear and rivet tests a day. My back and neck hurt. Good thing they made that plane strong.

One early morning we got vectored to intercept final for a straight in VOR/DME approach to SBGO. It was no big deal. We were at 6000, the FAF is at 4000 and the field at 2500. We were 25 DME at 250kts. The VOR is located on the field.

I had put my Garmin III Pilot, with the radial dialed in, onto the glare shield to help the lad out. He had a wee habit of getting lost.

“VOR captured”, I called. Then:

“6000ft. 250kts……You are 20miles out……….We are 15 miles Sev……….you are 12 miles out Sev, 6 from the FAF, still doing 250, clean and high. What do you think?”

“Do you think I should go down?” he asked.

“Yeah Sev, I think that would be a dandy idea. You might want to think about slowing down too. It probably wouldn’t do to rip the gear doors and flaps off”.

Sev dutifully slowed down and got us to approach speed and flap. He then started to slowly descend.

“Final Approach Fix Sev, we are about 2000 ft. high”.

That didn’t seem to faze him, so I figured I’d see how far he went. We broke out about 4500ft (2000AGL), nearly right over the airport.
“OK Sev, what is your plan?” I queried.

“GEAR DOWN, FLAPS 40 …LANDING!!!” he called enthusiastically.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……wrong answer Sev. How about we cancel IFR and join the downwind for this runway?” I suggested.

“OK”, was his reply following my request to turn 90 left onto a cross wind leg.

(For what comes next, it is important for the newbies in the crowd to understand that in a large aircraft you use a 5 point harness seatbelt. With a 5 point harness, there is a belt that comes up between your legs. This is to keep the shoulder straps, which are spring loaded to retract into the back of the seat and out of the way, from pulling up the lap belt. It goes almost to your throat if it is loose enough. You can always tell the new guys because they forget to put the crotch belt on BEFORE the shoulder belts and almost strangle themselves. I always kept the lap belt loose and cinched down the crotch belt. That gave me room to wriggle around under the belt. I dropped that habit after this day with Sev.)

Good old Sev suddenly seemed a wee bit lost and confused. I don’t know why that was any surprise to me, but trying to be a patient instructor I let him go and try to work it out by himself.

I was sitting in my standard instructing position. That is: left foot on the panel, left elbow on left knee, left fist holding up my entirely too bald head, just watching the show. I probably should have known better, but after all it WAS comfortable.

The circuit height here was 4000 with hills at 2800 AGL all around the field. He had come down from his 4500…4000…3500…and was still descending, still on cross wind.

”Do you see the airport?” I asked him.

He was looking around frantically and said that he couldn’t. Good call, because the airport was 3 miles behind us.

“Do you see those hills in front of us?” I asked, pointing up ahead.

I guess he hadn’t seen them until then because Sev freaked. He pulled what seemed like 40 G’s to get us back up to 4000.

I got shoved down so hard (or the plane came up so fast, depending on your point of view) that I punched myself hard in the head. If it hadn’t been for that crotch strap, my proctologist would still be picking pieces of rudder peddle out of me.

As it was, that crotch strap stayed my slither. Yep, the crotch strap. (You think that having your foot slip out of a bicycle pedal with you falling onto the cross bar is bad…let me tell you. It is a damn good thing that I already had a son by then.)

Always the patient one, after my initial schriek of pain, I calmly asked in a strangely squeaky voice,” Now what?”

“I am going to climb back to the initial altitude of 5000” he said.

“Why would you do that? It will put us in the cloud. We canceled IFR” I gasped. I found that I was having trouble breathing through my nose. “Probably clogged with testicular tissue” I thought.

“Just get us downwind at 4000”, I managed to wheeze between bouts of “Gawd” and “Jeez”. He actually managed to get us onto final okay. He didn’t even forget the gear.

“Please Sev, don’t land hard,” I begged. Sev obliged by greasing the landing all by himself as I was too busy rocking back and forth and groaning with my hands firmly in my, err lap.

Sev had finally done it! There seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Very faint…maybe I was delirious from the pain… but I swore I could see a light. I was seeing many flashing lights…This day might turn out OK yet!

After shutting down, the dispatch agent came into the cockpit with her papers for our last leg. THANK GOD, I though through mentally clenched teeth. She asked me why I was sweating.

She then said that we were going to have an unplanned aircraft change and would we please go to the other aircraft about 100 yards away.

(N.B. This is a very small airport, way back in the boonies. People come out to watch the planes from a big balcony all along the apron. Kids wave and point at us from about 30 yards away, the girls flirt, it is good stuff for the ego.)

My problem was how to walk the 100 yards without throwing up on the ramp in front of them all.

It was a definite no-go from a wave to the croud point of view. I sent Sev and the F/A’s to get the other plane ready. I got a maintenance guy to take my suitcase to the other plane. I heard him grumbling about prima donnas not carrying their own bags. (I dared not risk picking it up for fear of doing more damage to the kids.) I took off my uniform shirt with my epaulettes and wings, and in only my white t-shirt and blue pants, started to hobble over to the other plane.

I had gotten about 30 VERY LONG yards when security caught up with me and made me get into their van. My Airline ID was pinned to my uniform jacket, which I had somehow forgotten and left behind in the plane. I guess I had been concentrating too hard on clenching my teeth just so.

Security took me back to their headquarters for questioning. (Can’t these guys just leave me alone with my gonads to suffer in silence?)

Security, "Ok sir, if you are the Captain, how come the crew just closed the door of the aircraft?"

"THEY WHAT?"

With me in security, good old Sev once again hadn’t disappointed me. When the dispatcher asked to close the aircraft’s door for departure, Sev, showing admirable Command Authority said YES. He thought that I was on board and merely in the bathroom. (In his defense I must at least state that he did get the door closed on schedule. He finally noticed something was amiss when the ground crew asked for permission to initiate the push-back and I hadn’t done the checklist with him.)

The crew re-opened the door of the plane, lowered the stairs and sent the dispatcher to find me. She found me surrounded by three monsterous cops. She explained who I was and severly dumped on me for making her flight late. (Groan. She even wrote me up.) Fortunately for me, security gave me a ride out to the plane.

For the next leg, a 20 minute hop, Sev tested the strength of the gear and rivets again with gusto this time. I didn’t care. It was the last leg. I was going to the hotel to soak in a hot tub and apologize to the “kids.”

Afterward Sev, as was his custom, commented that he thought I was keeping him from progressing. He politely asked that I try harder to teach him.

“Sure Sev, what ever you want.”

Though I would have been a first offender, throttling him might still have earned me a suspension so I just limped to the crew bus.

My dear alpha-wave challenged Sev stayed with me another month.

We sometimes endure hardship. We sometimes force a smile onto our faces. But with determination and a good bit of tongue biting, we as instructors strive to encourage and support our students, even when that means we have to sacrifice ourselves for their training.

It is our duty. It is our calling.

God, it hurts sometimes.



We must be friggin' nuts.

[Brad the Pilot]

One time when I was recovering from a simulated forced approach. I looked over at my guages and noticed I had no Oil pressure, Fuel, anything. So I called the tower and told them what was going on. Then I called disbatch and told them. Next thing I hear a Calm voice answer back, is your engine instruments switch on? So I look down and notice that I accidently hit that off instead of turning the fuel pump off. After sitting there in the plane for a few seconds trying to think of a way to tell them everything was fine and not look like a complete idiot, I answered back "Ya that was it, everything is fine" Needless to say I never lived that down.