The best one I heard was a Navajo captian taking of his underwear and cleaning himself as best he could then throwing the dirty underwear out the window hopping no one would ever know. He would have got away with it had it not left shit steaks down the side of the airplane.
Any other stories please add
Stories of pilots SHI&TING in flight
Moderators: lilfssister, North Shore, sky's the limit, sepia, Sulako, I WAS Birddog
Edo
I read a story in a book about the 104. Seems one guy missed his morning routing (too much to drink? nah) and went flying.
During the long flight he needed to go. Ratcheted the 02 mask down until it was cutting into his face, Took off his shirt and flight suit, wrapped the package up in the shirt and put the flightsuit back on. (must have been a gymnist) He couldnt toss the bundle so he placed it on the floor.
Crew Chief damm near puked when he popped the canopy and bent in to help the driver unstrap LMAO !!!
During the long flight he needed to go. Ratcheted the 02 mask down until it was cutting into his face, Took off his shirt and flight suit, wrapped the package up in the shirt and put the flightsuit back on. (must have been a gymnist) He couldnt toss the bundle so he placed it on the floor.
Crew Chief damm near puked when he popped the canopy and bent in to help the driver unstrap LMAO !!!
-
pickleswitch
- Rank 1
- Posts: 39
- Joined: Tue Mar 09, 2004 9:56 am
Shite in the air!
Years back my buddy at Northwest Express told me that a Captain on the BA31 was out the night before having Chili and Beer. The next day on the flight, he couldn't hold himself. The F/O took control while the Captain walked to the back of the BA 31(while the passengers wondered where he was going). He went into the baggage compartment and took a "dump" into his lunch bag, left it in the baggage compartment and then returned to his duties! The worst or best part, is he left the bag back there for the ground handlers to dispose of it!! Any BA 31 drivers out there, know how difficult that would be and especially with suitcases around you!! 
-
klimman123
- Rank 3
- Posts: 123
- Joined: Wed Feb 18, 2004 10:30 pm
This is kinda related
I was bringing a few fishermen into a remote camp in Manitoba. Before we could get underway, we had to wait for the weather to clear a little. During this time I was getting to know my passengers. They were a real bunch of charcters, telling funny stories, laughing and the like. Soon we get aboard the aircraft. As part of the preflight briefing I told them we were out of puke bags so if you get sick use your boot. Once at our location I was helping people off the plane, while one guy is holding his boot in his hand full of the previous night's meal. I didn't bother to tell him we did in fact have puke bags. I was just joking. Never had a grown adult puke in flight before. Once off the plane he just bent over and dipped his boot into the lake to wash it out. His buddies were all giving him a hard time about it but he didn't seem to mind.
I was bringing a few fishermen into a remote camp in Manitoba. Before we could get underway, we had to wait for the weather to clear a little. During this time I was getting to know my passengers. They were a real bunch of charcters, telling funny stories, laughing and the like. Soon we get aboard the aircraft. As part of the preflight briefing I told them we were out of puke bags so if you get sick use your boot. Once at our location I was helping people off the plane, while one guy is holding his boot in his hand full of the previous night's meal. I didn't bother to tell him we did in fact have puke bags. I was just joking. Never had a grown adult puke in flight before. Once off the plane he just bent over and dipped his boot into the lake to wash it out. His buddies were all giving him a hard time about it but he didn't seem to mind.
-
Frank Castle
- Rank 2
- Posts: 50
- Joined: Sat Mar 20, 2004 1:53 pm
- Location: Rikers Island
Ah, bathroom humor. I mean how can you go wrong with a good poopoo and peepee joke. If I were in charge of hirering, my questions would be:
1.“So, tell us of a time where you defused a tense situation with the sound of bodily functions.
2.What was your opinion of the movie the Nutty Professor?
3.One to five, the best bathroom scenes from a movie? (if Van Wilder or dumb and dumber are in the top three, instant hire).
4.And finally, how many pairs of drawers have you burned in you’re life.
Honestly, have you every met a person that can answer those questions and has a valid commercial multi IFR, that you did not like and was a good employee?
Frank
[/list][/quote]
1.“So, tell us of a time where you defused a tense situation with the sound of bodily functions.
2.What was your opinion of the movie the Nutty Professor?
3.One to five, the best bathroom scenes from a movie? (if Van Wilder or dumb and dumber are in the top three, instant hire).
4.And finally, how many pairs of drawers have you burned in you’re life.
Honestly, have you every met a person that can answer those questions and has a valid commercial multi IFR, that you did not like and was a good employee?
Frank
[/list][/quote]
-
corn-shoot
- Rank 7
- Posts: 527
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:06 am
- Location: Entrails, SK
-
twinpratts
- Rank (9)
- Posts: 1625
- Joined: Tue Feb 17, 2004 5:38 am
- Location: The Wild Wild West.
- Contact:
Not exactly in the same vein but I remember a friend who was an F/O on a Bristol Britannia for CP Air. (The original Whistling Shithouse) Seems they had a squeamish flight attendant. Dinner time and the Captain ordered his meal and the F/O, pretending to be ill, asked simply for a small can of soup, which was brought to him. He placed this nice fresh can of soup in a barf bag and tried to hand it back to the F/A. The Captain interviened, grabbed the bag, looked inside and said "Hey, this looks pretty good" and starts to eat the soup. The F/A lost her cookies.
The average pilot, despite the somewhat swaggering exterior, is very much capable of such feelings as love, affection, intimacy and caring.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
Here's a classic, although it's not a pilot, but a passenger:
Picture rig-change season in Alberta. You know, the glorified taxi driver that ferries 'Rig Pigs' from the major centres to the rigs up-North! It's the typical daily Alberta grind during the winter months!! Ice, snow, blowing snow, IFR, gravel strips, -30c, and of course the dealings with the world- famous Rig Pig!!
Anyway, after an uneventful flight North, our friendly Caravan driver drops-off the Northbound lads, loads-up the Southbound lads, and takes-off with a Caravan-sized load headed back to the big city. Half an hour later at 9,000 feet, with autopilot on, and flying GPS Direct, life couldn't be better!
Chatting with a friend who was along for the ride in the right-seat, the two get a sudden whiff of something bad. But for the Caravan driver in the winter months in Alberta, it was a whiff he had smelt before...except instead of slowly dissapating, it was getting worse!!
It got worse and worse and worse! The driver looked at his friend in the right seat, she looked back at him...and then they both look aft into the cabin.
To their utter shock, there in the rear of the Caravan, was a Rig Pig in the all-to-famous squatting position. Pants around his ankles, newspaper spread on the floor, teeth clenched, there he was doing his business!
With wide eyes the squatting Rig Pig looked at the pilot, and with wide watery-eyes the two up-front looked back at the Rig Pig. As the stench got progressively worse, the pilot spent the next half an hour on the verge of puking, trying to remember how to fly, grasping for any vent handle he could find.
By the grace of god they made it...and yes the Rig Pig did have to roll-up his business in the newspaper and carry it to the nearest trash can!!!
G
Picture rig-change season in Alberta. You know, the glorified taxi driver that ferries 'Rig Pigs' from the major centres to the rigs up-North! It's the typical daily Alberta grind during the winter months!! Ice, snow, blowing snow, IFR, gravel strips, -30c, and of course the dealings with the world- famous Rig Pig!!
Anyway, after an uneventful flight North, our friendly Caravan driver drops-off the Northbound lads, loads-up the Southbound lads, and takes-off with a Caravan-sized load headed back to the big city. Half an hour later at 9,000 feet, with autopilot on, and flying GPS Direct, life couldn't be better!
Chatting with a friend who was along for the ride in the right-seat, the two get a sudden whiff of something bad. But for the Caravan driver in the winter months in Alberta, it was a whiff he had smelt before...except instead of slowly dissapating, it was getting worse!!
It got worse and worse and worse! The driver looked at his friend in the right seat, she looked back at him...and then they both look aft into the cabin.
To their utter shock, there in the rear of the Caravan, was a Rig Pig in the all-to-famous squatting position. Pants around his ankles, newspaper spread on the floor, teeth clenched, there he was doing his business!
With wide eyes the squatting Rig Pig looked at the pilot, and with wide watery-eyes the two up-front looked back at the Rig Pig. As the stench got progressively worse, the pilot spent the next half an hour on the verge of puking, trying to remember how to fly, grasping for any vent handle he could find.
By the grace of god they made it...and yes the Rig Pig did have to roll-up his business in the newspaper and carry it to the nearest trash can!!!
G
Yah I like a good practical joke once in a while, as long as you don;t get carried away. In the Twin Otter, a favorite of mine was to reach over and pull the seat adjustment release. the seat would come crashing down to laughs and gawhaffs. It backfired one day when I heard something go crash, tinkle, tinkle. That was in MY coffee thermos placed under the seat. I used to fly the famous Alberta "rig pigs" and they are a sub-human species. It is amazing how crude and downright destructive they can be. I had one guy who theought it was a hoot to break the back of the seats in the Metro. We lost 4 of them on one flight. It got so bad that some scheduled air carriers refused to carry some of them because they were so disruptive. This might be a good thread for someone to persue. "Tales of the Rig Pigs".
The average pilot, despite the somewhat swaggering exterior, is very much capable of such feelings as love, affection, intimacy and caring.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
-
Cat Driver
- Top Poster
- Posts: 18921
- Joined: Sun Feb 15, 2004 8:31 pm
We landed in Ft. Simpson at two O'clock in the morning with Mobil Oils DC3 and dumped a load of drunk and dangerous oil field workers..
The RCMP met us and there was zero problems from our employer, but that crew never ever flew with us again, or worked for Mobil to the best of my knowledge.
Cat
The RCMP met us and there was zero problems from our employer, but that crew never ever flew with us again, or worked for Mobil to the best of my knowledge.
Cat
The hardest thing about flying is knowing when to say no
After over a half a century of flying no one ever died because of my decision not to fly.
After over a half a century of flying no one ever died because of my decision not to fly.
A good friend of mine used to work a lot in the bush along the wet coast. They were taken to work and back by float plane. He told me of a story once where they got into the rye on the flight home and like a drunken fool he jumps out of the aircraft into False Creek while the aircraft was taxiing in. Needless to say the rest of the trips to and from the worksight were dry. He was 6'1" 220 lbs of rugby player the pilot was about 5'9" of very pissed off man. My old buddy said he had never felt so sorry for a little guy as he did that day, 6'1" 220 lbs, soaking wet, and laughing at this poor pissed off pilot. Ahhh the good old days.
I remember when I worked for an asphalt contractor where they had an old alcoholic working the tower on a gravel crusher who always kept a bottle "hidden" behind the electrical panel. Some of the guys stole his "spooker" and substituted it for one filled with urine. Almost made him quit drinking. In the welding shop, guys would almost get almost mesmerized by the repetative nature of welding so if you pee in a styro cup and let them weld into it. The stink would gag a maggot. Or else set fire to some rags and toss it under them. Another good one was if they were hardfacing the cutting edge of a loader bucket, bang on the bucket with a 12 pound hammer. But the funniest one was when a guy dug a trench in the gravel under the dozer blade and crawled into the trench kicking his feet as if the dozer blade fell on him. I love good clean fun.
The average pilot, despite the somewhat swaggering exterior, is very much capable of such feelings as love, affection, intimacy and caring.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
These feelings just don't involve anyone else.
Following a flight while I was working on my commercial, my buddy pointed out that my pants had brown stains on the ass, and asked if I had shit my pants. I couldn't figure out what had happened, and after some further investigation we realised that someone on a previous flight had shit their pants and not cleaned up very well. Found myself a new school after that.
shitting pilots
I know a guy who does ariel photo work in sask and man he was telling me about one of his more memorable flights in his little c 150. he was flying on a hot heavy day after a night out on the town after about half hour in the air the "urge" hit him if you know what I mean. He was turned around to return to the field when the unthinkable happened to him and he s*&t him self. He went on to say he had the nastiest landing of his life and once on the ground he threw his undies in the trash cleaned his pants and plane as best he could then continued on his way. btw does anyone know how long the smell of terd lingers in a small airplane?
Red
Red
Hell Ive shit in flight more times than I can remember. Wont go anywhere without a bucket and the days newspaper. Of course my flights are a tad on the LONG side in crappy dirty countries so you'll cut me some slack.
But trust me, I will always prefer to be the one to have to take a dump than be the other poor SOB who has to breathe in the vapors...
But trust me, I will always prefer to be the one to have to take a dump than be the other poor SOB who has to breathe in the vapors...
Keep flying till the noise stops.
Stupidly one day....
I decided to depart on a two hour journey to some obscure 'airstrip' in the middle of no where with four hunters. Shortly before our noon departure, I stopped in to see Betty Twotrees, and have some of her famous week old pot tay toe salad. On this chosen day, I thought I'd compliment it with a nice extra extra rare hamburger. "Extra mayo please!", as she pulls the half full dusty mayo jar off the shelf.
Needless to say, one hour in, the hot flashes could have cooked a bag of microwavable popcorn. The sweat beading down my fourhead was a little unusual in the sub zero cockpit. Damn islander heater couldn't melt an ice cube. I had had this gut wrenching feeling before in flight, and was always succesful in the past, at holding out, at least 30 seconds past my destination.
Not this day.
There wasn't an airfield in site. The 'nearest' function on my ADF wasn't coming up with anything. The map, well, I had lent it to a guy three rows back, and didn't feel like turning around my now pasty white face, and blood shoot eyes, to yell over the engines "MAP!!!! I NEED THE MAP!!!!"
The surrounding terrain, was somewhat level, although perhaps a little too rough for my 1971 jigglybus. To bad for her. There wasn't really another option.
I lined up to land. I was gonna tell the fellas what was going on, but once again, the pilot screaming "WE'RE GOING DOWN, I GOTTA CRAP MY PANTS" wasn't covered in our last customer service seminar.
The field looked quite grassy, it wasn't until I touched down with the horn blaring and the speedo well below the 40 knot minimum that I realized the grass was about three feet tall. That however wasn't the first time I had mowed a lawn.
0.005 Seconds after the wheels made contact, the mixtures to idle. Mags off, props stopped, full brakes, door open, mad sprint away from spectators. I'm sure that was all accomplished in about 2 full seconds.
Pants down, and welcome to the second coming of Mt.St.Helens.
Shortly after cleaning my burning exhaust pipe with some of the nicely concealing grass, I buckled up, put a big smile on my face and sontered up to the plane. All the guys were outside, and seemed pretty happy. I looked them dead in the face, and said, "thought you guys might need a piss break". The thanked me, and said that was the coolest 'airstrip' they had ever landed on.
A little scouting, found the grass to be much shorter slightly to the left. We all hopped back in, and blasted off.
Had to pick several bags of grass out of the brakes when I got back to base, and clean the green stains of the props. And ofcourse, properly clean my ass.
And to this day, no one is the wiser.
Well that is, except for all of you now.
I decided to depart on a two hour journey to some obscure 'airstrip' in the middle of no where with four hunters. Shortly before our noon departure, I stopped in to see Betty Twotrees, and have some of her famous week old pot tay toe salad. On this chosen day, I thought I'd compliment it with a nice extra extra rare hamburger. "Extra mayo please!", as she pulls the half full dusty mayo jar off the shelf.
Needless to say, one hour in, the hot flashes could have cooked a bag of microwavable popcorn. The sweat beading down my fourhead was a little unusual in the sub zero cockpit. Damn islander heater couldn't melt an ice cube. I had had this gut wrenching feeling before in flight, and was always succesful in the past, at holding out, at least 30 seconds past my destination.
Not this day.
There wasn't an airfield in site. The 'nearest' function on my ADF wasn't coming up with anything. The map, well, I had lent it to a guy three rows back, and didn't feel like turning around my now pasty white face, and blood shoot eyes, to yell over the engines "MAP!!!! I NEED THE MAP!!!!"
The surrounding terrain, was somewhat level, although perhaps a little too rough for my 1971 jigglybus. To bad for her. There wasn't really another option.
I lined up to land. I was gonna tell the fellas what was going on, but once again, the pilot screaming "WE'RE GOING DOWN, I GOTTA CRAP MY PANTS" wasn't covered in our last customer service seminar.
The field looked quite grassy, it wasn't until I touched down with the horn blaring and the speedo well below the 40 knot minimum that I realized the grass was about three feet tall. That however wasn't the first time I had mowed a lawn.
0.005 Seconds after the wheels made contact, the mixtures to idle. Mags off, props stopped, full brakes, door open, mad sprint away from spectators. I'm sure that was all accomplished in about 2 full seconds.
Pants down, and welcome to the second coming of Mt.St.Helens.
Shortly after cleaning my burning exhaust pipe with some of the nicely concealing grass, I buckled up, put a big smile on my face and sontered up to the plane. All the guys were outside, and seemed pretty happy. I looked them dead in the face, and said, "thought you guys might need a piss break". The thanked me, and said that was the coolest 'airstrip' they had ever landed on.
A little scouting, found the grass to be much shorter slightly to the left. We all hopped back in, and blasted off.
Had to pick several bags of grass out of the brakes when I got back to base, and clean the green stains of the props. And ofcourse, properly clean my ass.
And to this day, no one is the wiser.
Well that is, except for all of you now.
-
just another pilot
- Rank (9)
- Posts: 1069
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 2:05 pm
- Location: Edmonton
Hey DA900! I know YOU have a few of these stories..
I remember years ago doing a mountain check with two fellows. On the leg home one decided he needed to use a sick bag to take a leak. I wasn't to impressed considering we had only been airborne for about twenty five minutes. Anyway, in the middle of his act we encountered moderate/severe pilot induced turbulence. Man, he was covered from head to toe, and had to clean the aircraft when we got home. I guess you had to be there..
I remember years ago doing a mountain check with two fellows. On the leg home one decided he needed to use a sick bag to take a leak. I wasn't to impressed considering we had only been airborne for about twenty five minutes. Anyway, in the middle of his act we encountered moderate/severe pilot induced turbulence. Man, he was covered from head to toe, and had to clean the aircraft when we got home. I guess you had to be there..
One summer break between my university coarses I decided to try and make the big money by planting trees. I sent my resume out and ended up on a crew that treated their newbie planters very similar to a newbie pilot. Regular schedule of 6 on and 1 off and if a contract was nearing completion it wasn't unusual to have a 10+ on with 1 off. These hours and crappy ground providing 10 cents and 20 mosquito bites per tree, you definately earned every bloody penny paid. The crew was a mixture of hippies, tree huggers, pilots, pot heads, students (often covering all of the previous labels), and one older alcoholic named Joe.
Well Joe was a good man, all around nut case but a good man. He would come out year after year to plant trees. Living in the bush removed the temptation of buying that bottle and except for one relapse on our in town day off, or Joe's 3 days off, he managed to stay dead sober. After Joe never returned for a couple of days the boss went into town to find him. Sure enough he was passed out in his own business on a hotel room bed, with a pile of emptys everywhere. No, this was not Joe's moment to shine, but the boss kicked him out of bed and all the way to the shower so he could clean himself up and come back to the camp.
Well I don't know if it was this incident or another problem that put Joe and his forman at odds. Whatever it was, Joe had developed a problem with his attitude. After a few weeks of them blowing up at each other, we all started to wait for someone to snap.
Our daily routine was a 05:30 wake up call and a short stumble into the mess hall. At 06:00 we were in the trucks driving for up to an hour on bumpy back roads to a section of logged land. It was during one of these trips that Greg, Joe's forman, started to notice an unusual smell. Of coarse the blame game started to go on and everyone was getting pissed off at whoever it was that kept letting go. The peculiar thing was that the smell seemed to definately originate from Greg's direction.
After a week of us thinking it was Greg, we started to wonder if he was genuinely going nuts yelling at us to cut it out. We started to theorize that the wannabe highschool teacher was finally losing it. He must have let the strenuous 12hr work throughout the last 4 summers, get to him. We started to wonder if he didn't realise that he'd lost control of his bowel movements. How else could he continuosly pass gas without knowing it. This went on for a full week with windows down in -5 early morning weather and heads hanging out in +30 afternoon heat. Finally Greg realised that the truck must be impregnated with the stench and he began cleaning it out. While pulling garbage out from under his seat, he noticed one of Joe's shirts tucked neatly in the middle of the mess. He pulled it out from under the seat and was about to . it when he realised there was something inside. He yanked and pulled at the knot until the shirt flopped open exposing Joe's proud ringer inside.
Funny how we just assumed that Joe wanted to sit as far from Greg as possible because they were pissed off at each other. There he was every morning sitting in the opposite corner smiling at Greg with that crazy old grin.
Pay back turned out to be a bitch at the next campsite though after Joe realised that Greg took a nice steamer underneath his recently pitched tent. It's funny what a demanding job in extreme conditions will do when combined with a steady supply of burning BC bud.
Well Joe was a good man, all around nut case but a good man. He would come out year after year to plant trees. Living in the bush removed the temptation of buying that bottle and except for one relapse on our in town day off, or Joe's 3 days off, he managed to stay dead sober. After Joe never returned for a couple of days the boss went into town to find him. Sure enough he was passed out in his own business on a hotel room bed, with a pile of emptys everywhere. No, this was not Joe's moment to shine, but the boss kicked him out of bed and all the way to the shower so he could clean himself up and come back to the camp.
Well I don't know if it was this incident or another problem that put Joe and his forman at odds. Whatever it was, Joe had developed a problem with his attitude. After a few weeks of them blowing up at each other, we all started to wait for someone to snap.
Our daily routine was a 05:30 wake up call and a short stumble into the mess hall. At 06:00 we were in the trucks driving for up to an hour on bumpy back roads to a section of logged land. It was during one of these trips that Greg, Joe's forman, started to notice an unusual smell. Of coarse the blame game started to go on and everyone was getting pissed off at whoever it was that kept letting go. The peculiar thing was that the smell seemed to definately originate from Greg's direction.
After a week of us thinking it was Greg, we started to wonder if he was genuinely going nuts yelling at us to cut it out. We started to theorize that the wannabe highschool teacher was finally losing it. He must have let the strenuous 12hr work throughout the last 4 summers, get to him. We started to wonder if he didn't realise that he'd lost control of his bowel movements. How else could he continuosly pass gas without knowing it. This went on for a full week with windows down in -5 early morning weather and heads hanging out in +30 afternoon heat. Finally Greg realised that the truck must be impregnated with the stench and he began cleaning it out. While pulling garbage out from under his seat, he noticed one of Joe's shirts tucked neatly in the middle of the mess. He pulled it out from under the seat and was about to . it when he realised there was something inside. He yanked and pulled at the knot until the shirt flopped open exposing Joe's proud ringer inside.
Funny how we just assumed that Joe wanted to sit as far from Greg as possible because they were pissed off at each other. There he was every morning sitting in the opposite corner smiling at Greg with that crazy old grin.
Pay back turned out to be a bitch at the next campsite though after Joe realised that Greg took a nice steamer underneath his recently pitched tent. It's funny what a demanding job in extreme conditions will do when combined with a steady supply of burning BC bud.
