A Chick in the Cockpit (2 page)

Just being able to get to the emergency checklist often means survival. By the time you reach for this checklist, damage has already been done, so the point is to work on the problem together. This incident began to teach me that life and aircraft are way more complicated than what is neatly laid out on the pages of a checklist. There really wasn't a checklist that conformed to this exact emergency. The aircraft manufacturer hadn't thought about the pilot who is distracted by thinking about mountains so, by accident, he turns too quickly, climbs too quickly, and pulls up the flaps too quickly. The complicated set of emergency checklists that are put in the flight deck sometimes don't get used as intended in the real world. They are a logical starting point but in actuality, it is best to absorb everything that is going on around you and then put it all together before reacting.

Despite the emergency checklists provided for abnormalities, it's the standard checklists that you use before you begin your flight that often determine whether you live or come crashing down in a pile of mistakes.

2
Checklists and Checkpoints

1.
Seatbelts – fastened

2.
Parking brake – set

3.
Head out of ass – check

Checklists and knowing where you are in the aviation world are vital. These “checks” are potentially the difference between life and death if you mess them up or get the items out of order. If, for example, you miss a checkpoint, the side of a mountain might clarify your position for you.

The objective of a standard checklist is to have the pilot complete the task on their own, and then use the checklist to go back and
check
to make sure the lists and points were done correctly. If the pilot screwed up, they should go back to the beginning and run the list again.

Every aircraft manufacturer also puts together emergency checklists to guide pilots through a variety of nonstandard situations. Ask any pilot and they'll tell you that actual emergencies never happen like the script of the emergency checklist. I can almost guarantee that the cockpit flight recorder listening in on any emergency checklist conversation has one of the pilots whining, “Well, shit, that's not what it says here...why is it doing that?” There are also two lines of thought on dealing with emergencies and the associated checklists.

The first philosophy is that you should memorize at least the first ten to fifteen items on any major emergency checklist. However, I found that no matter how many times you train for each emergency, you still pee your pants when those piercing alarms and blinding warning lights make you earn your salary. I have witnessed pilots who shed all information from their brain at the first scream of an alarm, so memorizing a checklist is lovely in theory, but the reality is that the memorizing philosophy is just another accident waiting to happen.

The second line of thought, which I prefer, is to start by simply remembering one thing: just fly the airplane. After the non-flying pilot has silenced the bells and whistles, then you can grab the checklist and figure out, generally, what is going on. Look around first and take in all the information before deciding which checklist is appropriate and be prepared that it still isn't going to work out perfectly.

A palpable example of things not working out perfectly was during my practice student solo cross country flights in a beat up old Beechcraft Sport. The plan was to fly from my home airport to two other airports, about 75 miles apart, and then head back home. Before departure, I'd spent hours on the ground planning the trip. I had visual ground checkpoints between the airports that I would be looking for, along with an estimated time between each to verify I was progressing like my flight plan predicted.

I made it to the first airport easily. My flight time was exactly what I had planned for, and the weather had been perfect. On the ground, I chatted up a group of old timers who had their lawn chairs in front of a hangar that contained an ancient Ercoupe that had recently met its demise from a ground loop incident, and the owner's friends were still teasing the pilot about it.

After the usual Midwest conversation about the weather and where I was headed, I paid for my fuel and started out on the second leg of my trip. I'd only been on the ground for an hour, but in that time the wind had picked up a little, but nothing to give cause for alarm.

Once airborne, my VOR, which is what I was using as part of my navigation, started swinging from side to side and wouldn't lock in on a radial. No big deal, I was flying Visual Flight Rules (VFR), so I would just navigate with my sectional map.

I noticed that I should have reached my first checkpoint, but I couldn't see the little river that I'd marked as a waypoint on my map. Minnesota is covered in lakes and streams, so I found a river that kind of looked like the river I was supposed to be over, and started looking for the next checkpoint.

I tuned in the next frequency in my VOR and my ADF (navigation equipment) and watched as the needles swung around, never quite finding their bearing to the station. Meanwhile, my next checkpoint came up faster than I planned. I still assumed it had to be right, so I marked it off and checked my time. Way ahead of flight plan! I must have a tailwind that I hadn't planned on.

I couldn't find my next checkpoint, so I skipped it and planned on finding the next one. It was a town I was supposed to fly over. Who could miss a town? But as I flew over one town and then the next one that wasn't on the map, I had the beginnings of a low level fear that I wasn't where I thought I should be.

Fear turned into panic when I saw another town coming up that wasn't on the map. But then I realized I had enormous checkpoints all along my route that I had ignored—water towers! The Midwest landscape is dotted with giant water towers with the name of the town emblazoned around the top. Duh, the answers had been reaching up to me all along.

I swooped down and circled over the top of the water tower and read the name. Holy crap, I'd never even heard of it. While I flattened out my sectional map, my eyes strained to read the names of all the little towns along the route where I was supposed to be. I simultaneously rejoiced and freaked out when I realized where I was. I was about thirty miles south of my course, but now that I knew where I was, I could fix it. Talk about failing to take in all the information at hand!

That night, when I had the comfort of earth holding me up, I tried to pinpoint where my flightpath went astray. It was possible that the winds weren't exactly as forecast, and I think my compass might have been just a bit off, but the primary problem was that I was making the things I saw fit into my predefined idea of where I should be. Even though it didn't look right, I made it fit my idea.

Along everyone's flight path, no matter how much you've planned and prepared, it's important to remember to take a closer look at your checkpoints and acknowledge what you actually see, not see what you think. We have checklists we create throughout our lives, but too often, we're checking off the boxes and not taking into account the reality around us.

It wouldn't be the last time my flight path would go astray.

I started making standard checklists to keep my thoughts on a chosen path before I even started school. “When I grow up I'm going to be a mom, and I'm going to have four kids (two girls and two boys, of course), two dogs, and a cat. I'm going to live in a blue house with white shutters in the mountains, on a lake, close to the ocean...”

As I moved through life, I modified my checklists because the world started telling me what to do. Oh, I felt like I was in control because, hey, I have a checklist. But the reality is that I was changing my list to fit what was already happening. I mean, really—who has on their checklist that when they grow up they'll lose their career to a dysfunctional relationship and go through a divorce?

My childhood checklist had no mention of being a pilot. I was going to be a veterinarian. I love animals and all things innocent, so naturally I leaned towards working with animals, without realizing that vet school isn't about cuddling furry creatures; it's about dissections, biology, and chemistry. I was chubby, stuttered, had a lisp, and was intensely quiet as a child, so I figured working with animals would be the best path through life, since they wouldn't have an opinion about my gawkiness.

My childhood checkpoints included crossings that many kids must navigate through. My parents divorced when I was nine, I grew up with a stressed-out single mom and an absent father, and I found out my sister and I were adopted, which would affect and clarify my future checklists. Finding out I was adopted didn't necessarily change my path, but it made me more observant along the way. It dawned on me that I'd been an off-course checkpoint for someone else, and that they had the choice to fly a different path by giving me up for adoption. My ability to be on earth had been debated, so I thank my birthmother for her choice. It's a harder decision than I've ever had to make, so I've tried to live like this is my second chance at life.

As an adopted child, I was intrigued with the distinguishing characteristics of human nature and what influence family, culture, society, or genetics has on the way people think. Since I have always been a wallflower, my quiet observations gave me the ability to fit in with a variety of personalities in the cockpit, even though I was completely different than most of them—and what better place to observe human nature than being locked in the cockpit with men for thousands of hours.

Since I was quiet and shy, people often assumed I would be less capable, especially in the pilot world, where egos rule. This perceived weakness became a strength, and I led quietly.

Despite the knowledge I gathered throughout all those years, I would completely miss these checkpoints in my own life and relationships because I could only see it from my perspective up above, in the air. Just like on my solo cross country flight, I kept making the checkpoints I saw fit the description on my map, even though it was wrong. I simply forgot to
see
what I saw.

Unlike most of my male cohorts who tell me stories about wanting to fly since they could walk, I never thought about being a pilot while I was growing up. The only female aviation icon I'd grown up with crashed into the Pacific Ocean, so I can't say that the idea of disappearing into the deep blue sea was an added incentive. Most girls don't aspire to be pilots, not because they can't do it, but because moving a piece of machinery through the air at a high rate of speed isn't usually high on their list of wants or desires. There aren't a lot of women pilots because not a lot of women
want
to be pilots. It's really that simple. If you're a woman and you want to be a pilot, you can be a pilot. Thank you, Gloria Steinem. You'll have to attain the pinpoint focus of a Buddhist monk, trade your soul for flight hours, experience a few furloughs, sacrifice everything and everyone around you for your career, but you can be a pilot, too.

3
Before Start Checklist

1.
Preflight your life - check

2.
Navigation equipment – tuned and identified

3.
Cycle switches and knobs to impress passengers – check

4.
Attitude – check

5.
Parking Brake - set

The sequence of events in my life unwittingly set me up for an aviation career. It's like going to the grocery store for some bread and coming home with a new car...who knew? Except in my case, I accidentally completed a personal Before Start Checklist into aviation and was startled to hear an engine start when I was done. Definitely never intended, but clearly amazed that it happened.

I stumbled into the world of aviation when I was nineteen, thanks to a shitty roommate in college who skipped out on the bills, along with my money. Even though I was working two jobs, I was still coming up short, so I took a third job as a customer service representative position (okay, fancy term for working the front desk) at a small airport southwest of Minneapolis called the Flying Cloud Airport. The Fixed Base Operator (FBO) offered a variety of services to private aircraft, and since it was a reliever airport for Minneapolis containing four different flight schools and four corporate FBO's, it was a very busy airport.

My schedule was second shift at Ethan Aviation, so it worked nicely into my already busy school schedule and it was quiet enough after the “suits” went home in the evening that I could fit in some homework and study time. My shift started at 2:00 p.m. and this was my first experience with a telephone switchboard and flying a desk.

Within the first fifteen minutes of my on-the-job-training, there was crackle and static popping through the Unicom (private radio frequencies/radio to communicate between pilot and FBO) until I could hear a voice from space: “Ethan Aviation, this is Citation November Three Zero Juliet Delta, I'm on Tango Lane and I need the Jet A truck, and I want a little Prist today. I also need a tug and my catering brought over. How soon can you be here—oh, and can you bring the hangar key?”

What language is he speaking and what in the world does he want me to tug on?!
The woman training me was on the phone and gave me a look like, “Well, come on, answer the man.” I had no idea where to begin because I didn't understand a thing he'd said, let alone know how to talk on the Unicom radio. After a couple weeks of training, I knew that a call like that meant the pilot needed Jet A fuel with anti-ice additive, he was parked at Tango Lane on the airport, and he needed the tug to pull his aircraft out of the hangar.

My first few weeks of training were overwhelming to the point of nausea but, unknowingly, my addiction had started. Aviation is a secret society that you ooze your way into, and it takes time to learn all the nuances of it. It has its own language, syntax, sounds, and smell. There is no quantum leap into aviation knowledge. It takes duration, but once you get it, you're hooked. Ask any bleary-eyed pilot, and they'll say they're addicted. There is no other explanation for it. It's a high that is attained by swallowing enormous amount of input and having that information travel through your blood to your brain. It releases ego grown by knowledge of a complex society that puts machines into the air and gracefully back onto the ground again. At its core, it is a gang with gang mentality, and once you're in, plan on staying awhile.

My primary job description, customer service representative, involved answering twelve incoming phone lines, taking care of the pilots and passengers, and coordinating all the services with the line crew and maintenance department. When a corporate/private pilot is nearing the airport, they often call ahead to the front desk on the Unicom radio so they can let the line personnel know they'll be there shortly and to advise the customer service rep of what type of services they require.

Ethan Aviation provided full service care, which meant I would arrange everything the rich and famous (at least in their mind) desired: rental cars, catering, ice, hotel arrangements for the flight crew and/or passengers, concert tickets, sporting event tickets, liquor, maintenance, fuel, hangar, aircraft tie down, de-ice service, ramp space, etc. I've even had hooker requests, but couldn't/wouldn't help them there. Sometimes with just twenty minutes notice, I would have all the above arranged for them. Then, the yahoo line guy who'd been sitting on his ass counting the number of runway lights would simply walk up to the newly arrived aircraft, open the door to the airplane and receive a $20 tip while I, on the other hand, would receive a tip that “maybe the line guy should park my aircraft closer to the lobby door next time...”

The flight deck Before Start Checklist is one of the longer checklists. At this point, the crew of a commercial airliner is ready to help each other start the engines. It takes a crew to properly start the engines—although you could do it by yourself if you had to.

Each pilot should have already set up their area of the cockpit, and this checklist is to verify that every switch, button, and circuit is ready for flight. It's during this checklist that I would get a feel for how the crew would work together. When it's done right, this checklist is poetry in motion. If someone interrupts this checklist (ummm, Captain, excuse me, we have a passenger who is drunk and passed out in the lavatory...), the proper procedure is to start over, at the beginning, to make sure it's completed and in the proper sequence. When it's done wrong, people die.

The checklist is read and the responding pilot looks at or touches the item in question and verbally responds to its status. I loved the crew that listened to the words and responded in the present moment, and I'd cringe when I saw and heard a pilot use rote memorization to respond to the checklist questions. If I had a copilot or engineer doing this, I would have them repeat the checklist item, and when they still didn't look at or touch the item in question, I'd say, “I'm sorry, what did you say?” Often, they'd just repeat themselves without looking at the item, so I'd ask it again. “I'm sorry, say that again?” They'd get pissed, look at the item, and then give the proper answer. Then they'd look at me and realize the smirk on my face was there for a reason. I'd repeat the process until they got the idea that I wouldn't move on unless they were actually checking the item. I often heard sentiments of “picky bitch” under their breath, but we're all here to talk about it, so I don't really care. My life meant more than the sting of a few muttered words.

Approximately 15% of all aviation accidents are attributed to improper use of a checklist. In just a two year period (1989-90), there were three major airline accidents in which the misuse of a checklist was determined by the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) to be one of the probable causes of the accident. Northwest forgot to set flaps/slats on takeoff in Detroit; Delta forgot to set flaps/slats on takeoff in Dallas; and US Air ran off the runway in LaGuardia and dropped into adjacent waters after a mis-set rudder trim and several other problems. Since pilots in commercial aviation don't just kill themselves if they make a mistake—they get to take a few hundred people with them—the least they can do it
perform
the checklist, not just read it.

The key element of aviation checklists, just like life, is the sequence. If you flip this switch, then this will happen. It has to be in a certain order. If/then. As you move through life, it's unavoidable to not realize all the if/then sequences, but you can only see the sequence backwards. You plan the forward sequence, but you won't see the result of the sequence until it's done. Usually, one “if” covers four or five “then.”
If
I work three jobs,
then
I can pay for college,
then
I can get a better job,
then
I can buy a house,
then
I will have a mortgage,
then
I will have to work harder because I also want a horse.

Sometimes, we don't realize when an
if
sequence is going to take us on a completely different
then
path. We can only look back and realize, “Wow, if I hadn't done this, then
that
would have never happened...” It's these unintentional sequences in life that sometimes complete a Before Start Checklist.

After 5:00 p.m., most of the suits went home and the airport was lulled into serenity. It was during these hours that my addiction for aviation was inhaled. Most of the line guys I worked with were also taking flying lessons next door. As the sun dipped below the end of the runway, they'd put their feet up on the line office desk and tell flying stories for hours while we muddled through daily paperwork.

I initially thought these guys must be smarter than they acted until it finally dawned on me that they weren't. They were simply focused and passionate about flying, and once that realization set in, I experienced a warm wave of desire to try it myself. It was daunting to think about how much I needed to learn, but as I watched the line guys try to drive the tug into the lobby one night to take a picture, I said to myself,
Erika, if they can do it, so can you. Really. Look at those guys. This must not be rocket science. The airplane doesn't know who's flying it, and doesn't care, so why should you?

I signed up for private pilot ground school and to my relief and dismay, there was a woman teaching some of the classes. Kip was a tall, dimpled blond who was excited to be instructing new students. She was a brand new ground and flight instructor, and hadn't had the crap scared out of her yet, so she was naively enthusiastic. Our class started with eight students, but by the third week, we were down to five, and we stuck with it until the end. The irony is that even though Kip would teach me how to fly, nine years later she would walk into my cockpit with me as her captain.

I started with the ground school, and when I got closer to taking the written exam, I started taking the actual flight lessons. My first aircraft was a Beechcraft Sport. A BE-19. It was a piece of junk, but all training aircraft are. That's the point. If you can fly this, you can fly anything. When it comes down to it, it is easier to fly a Boeing 727 than a little training aircraft – but don't tell anyone. To defend the pilots, it is actually the experiences dealing with the inflight emergencies, complicated airspace, weather, airline schedule, mechanical problems, crew scheduling, check rides, medical exams, drug testing, politics, the FAA, the flight attendants, and passengers that demand the high salary, and it is well earned. But pilots don't get the big bucks until they've been flying for many years.

Since airline deregulation in 1978 turned the airlines into a purely market-driven business, airlines have to run lean and mean. They have to fill every seat every time, so they are willing to take delays to get connecting passengers onboard, and overbooking seats to guarantee it. Compounded with high fuel prices, the $63 billion cumulative loss posted by carriers from the 9/11 attacks, and the cost of running the equipment leaves airlines running on a small profit margin. However, pilots are their own worst enemy because they love flying so much, they'll whore themselves out to anyone with a shiny airplane. They'll take the low pay and bad hours because they know there is a pilot standing behind them who will gladly jump in the cockpit for peanuts.

Despite the passion, the pilot pool is getting shallow, while demands for experienced pilots get deeper. Salary isn't an incentive, so airlines are relying on passion. For my first year in the airlines, I made $28,000, and was away from home 215 days, and it wasn't much better for the next four years. The public has an illusion about the salary. Only the top 10% bring in the big bucks. Passion pays the new pilots, but that only goes so far.

Flying in Minnesota required considerable patience. I was ready to solo for weeks but had to wait for the perfect day. It was either snowing, too cold, too windy, or too overcast. Finally, on a cold, high overcast morning, it was good enough to go, and I was good enough to do it.

Kip was my ground instructor as well as my flight instructor and after we did a few touch-and-go landings (which means the aircraft is landed and immediately after wheels touch the runway, the pilot adds power and takes off again), she looked me in the eye and said, “Okay, taxi over to the FBO and let me out.” I thought I was mentally prepared, but the shot of acid that blasted through my stomach made me question the sanity of letting me go with just a few hours of instruction. What if, what if, what if?

My nerves were calm as I let her out at the flight school ramp until I was at the position and hold location at the end of runway 28R. That empty seat belt where Kip had been sitting looked back at me and screamed
Ha ha, you're all alone in here, little awkward fat girl with a stutter. Do you really think you can fly an airplane all by yourself? Are you really that smart?

The voice from the control tower interrupted my meltdown and spoke calmly over the radio. Kip had called the tower and told them it was my first solo, so his instructions were godly and soothing, “N6504R, you are cleared for takeoff. Good luck! We'll all keep an eye on you.”

Checklist, checklist. Okay, got it all done. Line up on the centerline, check. Check the windsock. Looks okay, a little crosswind maybe. Turn the yoke a little into the wind. Throttle forward, power set. Woo hoo!
As I reached rotation speed, I held my breath and gently pulled back on the yoke and rotated off this earth, on my own. It was just me and this oil dripping machine, and I was looking down on the world. I have never wiped that grin off my face.

Three full stop taxi backs, and my first solo flight was complete. My dad, boyfriend, and all my aviation friends were waiting for me back at the flight school to cut the back off my t-shirt. Okay, weird tradition, right? The story is that back in the days without radios, the instructor would have to tug on the shirttails of the student who would sit in front of the tandem trainer. After the student was good enough to solo, the instructor wouldn't have to tug on the shirttails anymore. So cutting it off was a symbol of a successful first solo flight and my Before Start Checklist in life was complete.