Cockpit Chronicles: A ‘new’ pilot’s first trip on the line

by Kent Wien on

To say it’s been a long time since we’ve seen any newly hired pilots at our airline is an understatement. Up until now, the junior most pilots have been here for more than ten years.

As I was riding in to work on the JFK Airtrain a few weeks ago, I looked up the crew list again on my phone. I was surprised to see that the co-pilot (I was the relief pilot this day) was listed as ‘open.’ That meant that crew scheduling was likely scrambling to find a pilot to cover the trip after someone must have called in sick.

When I arrived at operations, I found the captain giving directions over the phone to the other co-pilot to the employee parking lot, so we both assumed we’d be flying with someone new to the base. It hadn’t occurred to us that he may also be new to the airline.

Back in 1998 an agreement was signed that brought pilots over from the affiliated regional and gave them slots at the major airline. But the agreement required them to wait for two years before coming over, and when the downturn occurred after 2001, some of these pilots were withheld from the ‘mainline’ for the next decade.

Now that we’re recalling pilots from furlough at a pretty good clip, with hopefully all of them back to work early next year, some of the senior most captains from the regional airline are starting to come over again.

As I was setting up the cockpit for departure, the other co-pilot introduced himself and explained that he was one of these flow through pilots and had just finished training.Regardless of your experience level when you come to a new airline, there’s so much to learn-a new airplane, procedures, rules, checklist responses and computer entries-that it’s comparable to taking a drink from a fire hose.

Now imagine getting called out for a trip, being told that the airplane and passengers are waiting for you and not knowing who you’re flying with or anything about the city you’re going to. After twenty years of flying to Des Moines, you’d certainly be out of your comfort zone.

Because of the late notice, Dan (not his real name) showed up in the cockpit a minute or two before our scheduled departure time. I had prepared his side of the airplane as much as possible for him, something I would have done for anyone who happened to be running late. In this case, his late call wouldn’t be the reason for our late departure, since we were also waiting for a mechanic to fix a minor problem found during the preflight.

The biggest challenge of flying the 757 and 767, as opposed to pilots who fly a single type of airplane like the 777 or 737, are the different configurations of instruments and flight management systems (FMS) that we have. Dan had already flown a few trips with a check airman in the 757, 767-200 and 767-300, and had been exposed to the three different display layouts, two types of FMS (Flight Management System) computers and three different versions of the device we use to send text messages to the company called the ACARS.

Much of his time in simulator training was spent getting up to speed with our normal procedures, approaches and emergencies before flying with an instructor for his IOE, or Initial Operating Experience.

He had spent six weeks learning the intricacies of the hydraulics, electrical and pressurization systems, among many other things, so it’s normal not to be as familiar with the normal, day-to-day things that occur on ‘the line.’

Since this would be his first trip with line pilots, we were determined to make it enjoyable. We welcomed him aboard and tried to put him at ease. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had shown up in tears given his harried drive to the airport and short call out. But he handled it well and managed to joke about the situation.

I showed him my favorite trick to request the FMS flight plan information with a single push of a button and the captain went over some ACARS entries while offering to have Dan do the majority of the computer inputs if he wanted to get more comfortable.

He took everything in stride and frankly, it seemed like he had been here for years.

Midway through the flight, he shared with me a funny story about his first trip with an instructor. When the relief pilot came back after her nap, the captain told Dan to take his two hour break. So he stepped out of his seat and went into the cabin. Unsure of where to sit, he scanned business class, and noticed it was rather full. One seat was open, but it had a blanket neatly laid across it and a Bose headset sitting in the seat.

So he went back to coach and found a seat in the exit row and sat down. A few minutes later, one of the flight attendants approached him.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I’m taking a break.” He sheepishly responded.

“Do you know anyone back here?” She asked, puzzled.

“Uh, no.”

“Get back up there!” She said, motioning to the front of the airplane.

When you fly with people who have been doing the same thing for so long, it’s easy to forget what it was like to be new. The flight attendant was likely unaware that this was the first time Dan had ever taken a break on an airplane before, and he certainly had no idea where the designated crew rest seat was located.

For the record, in case you ever find yourself in this situation; it’s seat 2J on the 767.

What Dan lacked in crew rest etiquette was well made up in his ability on the radio. He handled the accents of the Spanish controllers very well, even after flying through the night. After a smooth approach and landing at Barcelona by the captain, it was time for a few hours of sleep at the hotel before we’d get out to see the city.

A week before, another co-pilot told me about a jazz-themed catamaran cruise in Barcelona, so I thought I’d drag along as many of the crew as possible. What better way for us to welcome the new guy, I thought.

It’s hard to say which was better; the weather or the sangria. As the jazz saxophone player moved about the boat, playing a new-age type of jazz, three of the flight attendants and I sat out at the front of the boat, while Dan and the captain were in the back steering the large catamaran across the Mediterranean for a few minutes at a time. Some layovers are just better than others and I knew that this one would probably be memorable for Dan.

The six of us had enjoyed some bread and cheese by the marina before setting out for an early dinner by Barcelona standards, where it’s not uncommon to eat at 10 p.m.

We went to La Fonda, which I’ve been told is a cooking school that serves as a restaurant, although I couldn’t find anything about the school online.

The dollar to euro exchange rate takes some getting used to and I explained to Dan that it’s easily possible to spend $50 a person on dinner at many of our destinations. La Fonda looks like you’d need to take out a loan to eat there, but it’s actually quite reasonable, with dishes running around €9 to €12. Most of us had the “Grilled salmon with honey and mustard crispy with avocado and tomato” at €9.55 or about $14.

On the flight home to New York, I figured we should mark the occasion. You have to understand that for the past ten years, we haven’t worked with any new employees at the airline. In fact, this was probably more of a monumental event for us than it was for Dan.

So we presented him with a menu full of well wishes from all of us on the flight. I jokingly asked if we should have each of the 220 passengers aboard sign it as well, before remembering that we did have a celebrity in business class.

Placido Domingo, one of the famous ‘Three Tenors’ was flying with us. Graciously he signed the front cover of Dan’s menu and congratulated him on his new position flying internationally.

I couldn’t think of a more poetic way to celebrate such a career change. Welcome aboard, Dan. We’re glad you could finally make it.

Cockpit Chronicles takes you along on some of Kent’s trips as an international co-pilot on the Boeing 757 and 767 based in New York. Have any questions for Kent? Check out the Cockpit Chronicles Facebook page or follow Kent on Twitter @veryjr.

Remembering 9/11 ten years later: Where you can pay respect

by Melanie Renzulli on




Everyone remembers what he or she was doing on September 11, 2001. From the moment American Airlines Flight 11 struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center (8:46 a.m. EDT) to the horrific realization that the United States was under attack, every person has a story to share, whether of what they were doing on that fateful day to memories of personal survival or tragic loss.

Ten years have passed since the terrorism attacks of September 11 changed the world forever. From the war in Afghanistan to airline regulations, we live with the legacy of 9/11 on a daily basis. But while 9/11 is at the forefront of our minds, many of us have lost sight of the thousands of lives that were lost on that fall day. A decade later, there are three memorials – at the World Trade Center site, the Pentagon, and Shanksville, Pennsylvania – where we can remember the dead, honor the survivors, and reflect on the events of September 11, 2001.National September 11 Memorial and Museum
New York City
Located at Ground Zero, where the two towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed and 2,753 lives lost, the National September 11 Memorial and Museum, known simply as the 9/11 Memorial, will be inaugurated in an official ceremony on September 11, 2011. The 9/11 Memorial will not open to the public until September 12, 2011, and its museum, to be located in a plaza underneath the memorial, is not scheduled to open until September 2012.

Like the Twin Towers, the 9/11 Memorial is huge in scale. Set on eight acres and filled-in with 415 trees, the memorial is comprised of two fountain cascades that are the exact size of the footprints of the two buildings. Lining the edges of the fountains is a bronze strip engraved with the names of the victims from the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and United Flight 93, as well as the names of the seven people who died in the World Trade Center bombing on February 26, 1993.

Admission to the 9/11 Memorial is free, but visitors must reserve a time to visit. You can request visitor passes here, but note that as of this writing, the first available time available is on September 14. There are also 9/11 family member visitor passes for those who are related to victims listed on the memorial.

Pentagon Memorial
Arlington, Virginia
Open since September 11, 2008, the Pentagon Memorial is a quiet reminder of the 184 men, women, and children who died when American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the southwest edge of the Pentagon. The memorial contains a series of benches, each etched with a name, laid out on the western side of the Pentagon Reservation. Benches pointing towards the Pentagon refer to those who were inside the Pentagon when the plane struck; benches pointing in the opposite direction represent the airline passengers and crew who perished. The Pentagon Memorial is free and open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Guided tours are not available.

Flight 93 National Memorial
Shanksville, Pennsylvania
Maintained by the National Park Service, this memorial to the victims of Flight 93 is located in the field where the hijacked plane crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, on September 11, 2001. The Flight 93 National Memorial has had several temporary memorials and is still under construction. But the official dedication ceremony of the first phase of construction for the permanent memorial will take place on September 11, 2011. Similar to the other two memorials, the Flight 93 memorial will contain a Memorial Wall of Names inscribed with the names of the 44 people who died. Admission to the Flight 93 National Memorial is free and the memorial will officially open to the public at 2 p.m. on September 12, 2011.

Image from Wikipedia

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Sotheby’s: the museum where you can buy the art

by Sean McLachlan on

Have you ever looked at a work of art hanging on a museum wall and thought, “That would look great in my living room”? Well, at one of the best “museums” in London you really can take it home with you.

Sotheby’s is London’s oldest auction house, and has been a London institution since 1744. They sell everything from fine art to vintage wine to antique furniture. While most items are beyond the means of the average visitor, the galleries and auctions are open to the public. There are branches in London, Paris, New York, and Hong Kong.

When I lived in London I visited the Sotheby’s galleries regularly. They host constantly changing exhibits of art and antiques. Since the items mostly end up in private hands, this is your only chance to see them. I was a bit worried the first time I went in that I’d be given some cold English upper-class attitude. It was painfully obvious I wasn’t there to buy anything. Surprisingly, I was treated with respect, which is more than I can say about a certain antique shop I visited in Islington.

On one visit a few years ago there was going to be a major auction of Russian art–some medieval icons and a lot of Neorealism. As usual the items that would be going under the gavel were put on display. As I wandered around admiring the art, I found the crowd to be equally interesting. Hordes of Russians in Armani suits were on their cell phones calling buyers in Moscow, describing art and getting instructions on maximum bids. Watching all these rich Russians and their multimillionaire bosses I realized just how much the world had changed in the past twenty years.

So check out Sotheby’s. It’s not only a lesson in art, it’s a lesson in sociology.

[Photo courtesy Claus Hoppe]

5Pointz is coming down and it’s a shame

by Elizabeth Seward on

5Pointz probably won’t be around much longer. In case you haven’t heard, one of New York‘s finest art installments may be coming down for the sake of urban expansion: two 30 story apartment buildings in an increasingly hip neighborhood. And such seems to be the story in ever expanding cities like New York. What is good is not synonymous with what has longevity. Without generating a profit up to par with profit potential, certain things in New York, even landmarks, take a backseat to business. But this case is exceptional. This building, 5Pointz, is a work of art–one that should be preserved with the same respect we preserve all other great works of art. The problem is this: 5Pointz isn’t like other art.

5Pointz is a graffiti-clad building with a rotating roster of artists whose work is on display. Located in Long Island City, 5Pointz wasn’t far away from the Astoria apartment where I spent 7 years. I stumbled across the building the first time probably the same way many people do. I was riding the 7 train and I noticed a towering warehouse, vividly colorful against the drab skyline on what I remember to be a rather drab day. I seized the opportunity the next time I was in the neighborhood of the 7 train to exit, follow the overhead tracks, and find the building. To my surprise, there were a dozen or so other people there when I arrived, seeming just as curious as I was. They were taking photos and standing in awe of giant portraits. As I walked the perimeter of 5Pointz and passed by other admirers, I found myself speaking in a hushed voice just like everyone else there, just like I would in a museum. Clearly, there was something to be respected on the walls of 5Pointz.

%Gallery-132436%I found my way onto the roof of the building. The image of the city’s skyline from that rooftop, fogged over just ahead, is one I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

When I went back to 5Pointz the second time, I brought a friend with me. I expected to show her the same art on the walls I had seen the first time. Instead, it was all different. I soon learned that 5Pointz’s art is revolving art, that each piece of artwork that was ever painted on a wall of 5Pointz was intended to not last forever, but instead, perhaps, just a few weeks. I began taking all of my visiting friends to 5Pointz, looking forward to their respective visits since they marked my calendar with visits to 5Pointz. The art changed every time I walked around the building, and I walked around that building many times.

After spending 8 years in New York, I left the city with a fondness for 5Pointz no less tender than that first visit to 5Pointz. Any time someone visiting the city has asked me for off-the-beaten-path suggestions of what to do in New York, even now that I am living in Austin, I have instructed them to visit 5Pointz. I have told them which stop to get off the 7 train at, I have told them to just follow the overhead tracks. My father, my sister, my brother, my best friends… I took them all to that building. I even had a photo shoot there with my old band. And it really breaks my heart that others may now not receive the same opportunity we all had–the opportunity to experience 5Pointz.

The building’s owner, a Mr. Wolkoff, seems to appreciate art, but not enough to preserve this monumental landmark. A recent New York Times piece discussing the building’s fate reported that Wolkoff is willing to give the graffiti artists who call 5Pointz home a “rear wall” on the new structure. And, of course, a rear wall will never replace this positively special place, because the essence of 5Pointz is contained on that particular building, not a shining new structure. But Wolkoff is 74 years old. Preserving an old spray painted building certainly wouldn’t be the traditional thing to do, that is, so long as spray paint is considered an unbecoming art medium. But that’s the entire problem with this situation.

Spray paint, unfortunately for spray paint artists’ and art appreciators’ sake, is associated with vandalism, gang signs, and huffing. But does that affect the paint’s credibility as a viable art medium? Of course it doesn’t, but it certainly affects the perception the public has of the art medium. And so, consequently, a Facebook page dedicated to saving 5Pointz only has 1,171 likes (meanwhile, “Making up nicknames for people you don’t know but see all the time” has 1,494,837 likes). A petition circling around online to save 5Pointz has 11,000 signatures. How many signatures would that petition have if it were arguing to keep a publicly treasured oil painting from being destroyed? More, I’d bet.

All in all, the news of 5Pointz’s grim fate has upset me. Perhaps nothing will sway the minds of Wolkoff and the members of the Community Board. After all, history repeats itself and, after all, good things don’t seem to last in New York (remember CBGB?). But there are two things that I can do, small as they might be:

1. I urge you to visit 5Pointz while it’s still open. This About.com page contains good directions on how to get there.

2. Allow me to share some of the photos I have from my personal trips to 5Pointz with you.

Surf the City

by Gadling Staff on

When I started this story-before local grocery stores in New York City sold out of flashlights, batteries, and bottled water in anticipation of Irene-surfing in the Big Apple remained somewhat under the radar. In a city where sunbathing often means spreading a towel on a chunk of concrete pier off the West Side Highway, riding the waves seems an unlikely pursuit. And yet as storm hysteria swept the city, surfers took center stage.

Mayor Bloomberg gave a direct warning to New York’s surfing community on Saturday morning, warning them not to head into the water. The day before, the New York Daily News covered the surf scene at Rockaway Beach-the city’s only designated surfing area-as thrill seekers took advantage of a swelling sea and uncharacteristically large waves.

If hurricane Irene didn’t thrust local surfing into the spotlight, then certainly news of an upcoming pro surfing championship did. This is what initially sparked my curiosity. I sat down on the subway one day and saw a tidal wave looming above an elderly man’s head. Plastered to the wall of the downtown A train, there was a poster advertising the Quiksilver Pro New York surfing competition, which begins this weekend in Long Beach, NY. While the competing surfers will come from all over the world, the existence of a major competition nearby got me thinking, what does surf culture look like in NYC?

I started in SoHo where a shop on Crosby called Saturdays deals in coffee, clothing and surfboards. Of course, Saturdays isn’t only for surfers. Walk by on a weekday afternoon and you may see sales associates from nearby shops ducking in for a drink, or a group of chefs from the adjacent French Culinary Institute lounging on the bench outside. However, one surfer you will see there is co-owner Josh Rosen, who has been surfing for 20 years.I asked Josh what characterizes New York surf culture and he mentioned its less visual side. “It’s not as exterior in New York,” he said. “You don’t see cars with boards on top or surfers walking down the street in board shorts. A guy in a suit may be a surfer or a gal in a dress and heels heading to her PR job.” I realized this could be why the local surf scene has eluded me for so long. Another reason? Most New Yorkers are barely waking up by the time Josh and his friends are peeling off their wetsuits. They often meet at the shop at 4am, drive out to Rockaway and catch some waves before heading back to Manhattan so they can be at their desks at 9:30am.

Next, I hopped on the L train to check out another city surf shop, Mollusk, which sits near the quite un-surfable Williamsburg waterfront in Brooklyn. There I caught up with store manager Johnny Knapp, who further explained the qualities of a New York surfer. “We’ve got a tougher skin here,” he said. “In California they want the wave at the end of the street. We have to take cars and subways to get to the wave.”

Before stopping at Mollusk I had noticed a kitschy spot in Williamsburg called Surf Bar on North 6th Street. I couldn’t wait to ask Johnny about it and secretly hoped we’d head over there to dig our toes in the bar’s sandy floor (real sand…in the city!). But when I mentioned Surf Bar he only smiled and said, “Oh I’ve never stepped foot in there.” I then remembered that Josh Rosen had warned me about theme bars-they usually don’t draw the true surfing crowd. A better bet for a surf hangout, he said, is Epstein’s Bar on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.

I got a taste for NY surfing’s more edgy side, when I chatted with Epstein’s owner, Pat Conlon. “Pat the Rat,” as he was called growing up (he was a water rat from the beginning), was born and raised in Rockaway. When I asked if he’d be checking out the Quiksilver competition this weekend, he said, “Sure, I’ll be there. But I don’t stand in line, I don’t sit in the cheap seats, and I don’t pay for shit.”

After we cleared up his seating preference and established that I’m not a hipster (Pat is not a big fan, so of course I vehemently denied it), we got to talking about surfing in Rockaway. “It’s a mixed bag of nuts,” he said. “Visitors from all over the world surf there-men, women, old and young.” And like Johnny Knapp, Pat took a certain amount of pride in the toughness of a Rockaway surfer. “I’ve earned it,” he said. “I’ve been out there in the winter with Vaseline on my face so that it doesn’t freeze.”

I had to see Rockaway for myself, so that weekend I took the A train from Manhattan. Immediately I gained appreciation for guys like Pat who surf year round because I couldn’t even get my Manhattan friends to venture out on a sunny day in August, let alone in the dead of winter. “Rockaway? It’s too far. And what if it rains?” one friend moaned. So, I went alone. The trip to the Beach 90th St. stop was actually a relaxing one on a Sunday morning. It took just over an hour and the whole time I thought of a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti in which he travels all over the country, but always pines for “a Sunday subway for some Far Rockaway of the heart.”

At the Rockaway Boulevard stop two guys carrying boards got on and a gaggle of girls squealed excitedly, “Oh my god! Surfers!” I followed the guys off and watched them maneuver their boards through the subway turnstile-definitely not a skill required for surfing in Hawaii.

Once I got to Rockaway Beach, the surf scene became very apparent, very quickly. On my way to the boardwalk I passed Boarders Surf and Skate Shop where you can store your board and take a shower before jumping on the subway. The shop also rents boards ($35 for a half day or $50 for full day) and can arrange for a lesson.

On the boardwalk I discovered plenty of good bites for surfers looking to refuel-arepas at Caracas Rockaway, fish tacos at Rockaway Taco, and Thai food at Ode to the Elephants. There’s also Thai Rock just up the street from the boardwalk on 92nd. The restaurant sits on Jamaica Bay and has live music at night. But a Rockaway must, according to Pat Conlon, is a frozen piña colada with a floater of rum on top at Connolly’s on 95th Street.

Finally, I made it out to the beach to see the main attraction-the surfers. When I saw the dozens of heads rhythmically bobbing in the water and the artistic turns of a surfer riding a wave, I was surprised to find the sport as graceful as dance performances I’ve scene at Manhattan’s Lincoln Center. There was no doubt in my mind-surf culture is alive and well and very much a part of NYC.

The Quiksilver Pro New York competition takes place September 1-15 in Long Beach, NY.

[flickr image via jarito]