Roger Roger
Bottom of the list
At least the 35 is sexier than any of those
Hawker 400 Overun VBT
- Thread starter KLB
- Start date
Roger Roger
Bottom of the list
There’s a reason Learjets are sort of the go-to. At my old shop we daydreamed about a PC-24 but that price tag is a lot. Nobody really loved the idea of no TRs either.
Fixtur
Dunning-Kruger Expert
First place I stowed luggage was the lav specifically to ensure that no one pooped on my plane.
Skåning
Well-Known Member
A good poop story:
The Most Embarrassing Private Jet Flight Of All Time
Just for a minute, imagine you're an investment banker traveling with some very important clients on private jet during an IPO roadshow. What is an...
www.celebritynetworth.com
Since nobody’s yet gone here:
Tyler Wojo was born on July 4th 1977 to a single mother in Gayville, SD. She knew right away that she just gave birth to a very special boy. At an early age Tyler's mother found he had a curious penchant for pooping in odd places. In fact he would even take the trouble to poop in the cat’s food dish and crawl into the cupboards to christen the Tupperware. For some reason he really liked spare tires. At the age of 9 Tyler’s mother received word that his father used to be a seaman aboard a navy vessel that would spend months at sea. To help him find out who his father was, they packed up all of their belongings and moved to San Diego. Unfortunately after months of searching they find out the truth. Tyler’s father had run off with another man and opened a mechanical bull/martini bar in San Francisco. Would Tyler follow in his father’s footsteps? The jury is still out. However, the story gets even more tragic. Tyler became a Chargers fan.
The years went by and Tyler found a love for aviation. After years of hard study and hours of flight training, Tyler finally realized his dream of becoming an airline pilot. Though he received offers from all the Top Regionals he chose Great Lakes Airlines. That way I’m only there a couple of years tops before moving on he said to himself. One snowy Denver night Tyler suddenly proclaimed he was going to shock the world. Though he didn’t really know how at the time, he knew the muse would strike when the time was right. Well the muse struck, and it struck hard.
While cruising quietly at FL230 in his trusty Beechcraft 1900, the unthinkable happens, a fart that is not a fart. Yes folks, he sharted. Though it was just a little one, Tyler suddenly felt the dam may not hold. In a panic he looks over to his First Officer, fresh off IOE, and fills him in on the impending emergency. But we are 40 minutes from landing the FO blurts out. Then like a vision, Tyler flashes back to his youth when he would crawl around in a confined dark area to find a suitable pooping receptacle. As a grin spreads across his face, Tyler tells his FO, don’t worry everything is going to be alright. Using quick thinking, Tyler makes a PA announcement to the passengers stating that there has been a discrepancy in the paper work and he needs to get an accurate bag count. That being said he grabbed the clipboard and his trusty Maglite and proceeded to the baggage compartment. Though the passengers thought it was highly unusual, they were set at ease by Tyler’s confident stroll and uncanny ease of tumbling into the baggage compartment. Just as Tyler thought he was home free a new dilemma struck him. There staring back at him was both a large plastic container and a spare tire. Not prepared for this conundrum, Tyler looked back and forth between the two. How can I choose he asks himself? Then the rumbling commenced and Tyler was forced to make a command decision.
Crisis averted, Tyler made his was back up to the flight deck. Every thing checks out he told the passengers, who had waited in anticipation, as he walked by. Though all were relieved that their bags did indeed make it to their destination, the passengers did notice a curious odor permeated through their bags. As Tyler settled into his seat, the FO just stared back at him. Even during his thousands of hours flying Army choppers had he seen anything like this. Knowing the impact of what just happened, Tyler felt he should say something. A man of few words, he simply suggested, we better call Alpha 2 for the kit.
And there you have it. Tyler Wojo. Some think he is nine feet tall and shoots fireballs from his arse (figuratively speaking of course). But really he is just a normal man that walks among us. But because of Tyler Wojo, rest assured, every self respecting Nineteenhundo operator now carries the Wojo approved E-Kit.
Tyler Wojo was born on July 4th 1977 to a single mother in Gayville, SD. She knew right away that she just gave birth to a very special boy. At an early age Tyler's mother found he had a curious penchant for pooping in odd places. In fact he would even take the trouble to poop in the cat’s food dish and crawl into the cupboards to christen the Tupperware. For some reason he really liked spare tires. At the age of 9 Tyler’s mother received word that his father used to be a seaman aboard a navy vessel that would spend months at sea. To help him find out who his father was, they packed up all of their belongings and moved to San Diego. Unfortunately after months of searching they find out the truth. Tyler’s father had run off with another man and opened a mechanical bull/martini bar in San Francisco. Would Tyler follow in his father’s footsteps? The jury is still out. However, the story gets even more tragic. Tyler became a Chargers fan.
The years went by and Tyler found a love for aviation. After years of hard study and hours of flight training, Tyler finally realized his dream of becoming an airline pilot. Though he received offers from all the Top Regionals he chose Great Lakes Airlines. That way I’m only there a couple of years tops before moving on he said to himself. One snowy Denver night Tyler suddenly proclaimed he was going to shock the world. Though he didn’t really know how at the time, he knew the muse would strike when the time was right. Well the muse struck, and it struck hard.
While cruising quietly at FL230 in his trusty Beechcraft 1900, the unthinkable happens, a fart that is not a fart. Yes folks, he sharted. Though it was just a little one, Tyler suddenly felt the dam may not hold. In a panic he looks over to his First Officer, fresh off IOE, and fills him in on the impending emergency. But we are 40 minutes from landing the FO blurts out. Then like a vision, Tyler flashes back to his youth when he would crawl around in a confined dark area to find a suitable pooping receptacle. As a grin spreads across his face, Tyler tells his FO, don’t worry everything is going to be alright. Using quick thinking, Tyler makes a PA announcement to the passengers stating that there has been a discrepancy in the paper work and he needs to get an accurate bag count. That being said he grabbed the clipboard and his trusty Maglite and proceeded to the baggage compartment. Though the passengers thought it was highly unusual, they were set at ease by Tyler’s confident stroll and uncanny ease of tumbling into the baggage compartment. Just as Tyler thought he was home free a new dilemma struck him. There staring back at him was both a large plastic container and a spare tire. Not prepared for this conundrum, Tyler looked back and forth between the two. How can I choose he asks himself? Then the rumbling commenced and Tyler was forced to make a command decision.
Crisis averted, Tyler made his was back up to the flight deck. Every thing checks out he told the passengers, who had waited in anticipation, as he walked by. Though all were relieved that their bags did indeed make it to their destination, the passengers did notice a curious odor permeated through their bags. As Tyler settled into his seat, the FO just stared back at him. Even during his thousands of hours flying Army choppers had he seen anything like this. Knowing the impact of what just happened, Tyler felt he should say something. A man of few words, he simply suggested, we better call Alpha 2 for the kit.
And there you have it. Tyler Wojo. Some think he is nine feet tall and shoots fireballs from his arse (figuratively speaking of course). But really he is just a normal man that walks among us. But because of Tyler Wojo, rest assured, every self respecting Nineteenhundo operator now carries the Wojo approved E-Kit.
Unrelated, I’ve been to VBT quite a bit. That place is a cautionary tale that guys my age and maturity level probably shouldn’t run a FBO. There’s a beautiful water feature on the north end of the runway that’s excellent at attracting birds and could’ve made this a much bigger deal if they’d gone off of 36.
KLB
Well-Known Member
The only high-speed rejected takeoff I have ever been involved with happened in thr beechjet on the short runway at PNE.
I was SIC and a bird bounced off the windshield after V1. The PIC chose to abort and I wasn't very happy about the decision. His argument was that he wasn't sure that the bird didn't bounce off the windshield and into an engine during our debrief. My response was that we had run the numbers to endure that we had the proper to continue in that case and that is what we briefed. What's the use in even briefing if he was going to just do what the hell he wanted to anyways?
I was SIC and a bird bounced off the windshield after V1. The PIC chose to abort and I wasn't very happy about the decision. His argument was that he wasn't sure that the bird didn't bounce off the windshield and into an engine during our debrief. My response was that we had run the numbers to endure that we had the proper to continue in that case and that is what we briefed. What's the use in even briefing if he was going to just do what the hell he wanted to anyways?
Skåning
Well-Known Member
There’s several. AOPA, ALPA, etc….
Pilot Fighter
Well-Known Member
I think it would be pretty cool if everybody received the support they needed. I’m pretty sure that might necessitate more associations.
Me too. Totally compatible and complementary goals.
I'm just kinda worried that one day soon we are ALL going to want our very own individual Al Franken decades.
Pilot Fighter
Well-Known Member
I think there will always be a need because there are different paths to the same destination.
If I’m ignorant to the obstacles in your path, despite my best intentions, my effectiveness as a mentor might be compromised and there might be a better man for the job.
Beyond that, sometimes things just feel vaguely comfortable. My daughter will be attending an HBCU in the Fall. She doesn’t owe me an explanation. If you want to be a better old white guy, a black daughter will help you get there if you listen more than you talk.
We are in @derg ’s living room. I think we should all listen more than we talk.
We all need to be respectful, and to listen. I get and respect that. But this "living room" trope is waxing a bit hackneyed. When someone puts his living room in the middle of electronic Times Square, it's not really "his" anymore, eh? There is a surfeit of case evidence that the internet does not imply or provide an "expectation of privacy" or an expectation of much of anything else... for anything, living rooms included.
Pilot Fighter
Well-Known Member
I guess I’m okay with old tropes.
I'm ok with respectful listening and respectfully robust, informed arguments. Adherence to old tropes kills... in many domains, not just this one.
Pilot Fighter
Well-Known Member
I’m curious what your native tongue might be as you seem to miss some pretty common English turns of phrase.
When I say that I’m okay with old tropes, I’m actually suggesting that a trope isn’t really at play.
Esperspanglish.
Well, say that then. Modifying noun "trope" with adjective "old" suggests only the age of the trope, not any other quality of the trope. And, as with most tropes: the older, the worser.
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Pilot Fighter
Well-Known Member
You would struggle with Shakespeare … or Dilbert.
He was not so much brain as earwax...
I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
Strange... as much distaste as I harbor for getting judged based on someone else's opinion of my opinion (a bit of a fool's errand), I got A's in Shakespeare (and Milton and Chaucer and Yeats and Keats and Wordsworth) and used to work in Dilbert's office and engage with him in hushed, derision-dipped convos around the water cooler.
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