So I get to Atlanta around 1300 for a 1530 check-in. Plenty of time to miss the first flight in PHX and still make ATL on the next flight with reasonable time in order to check-in on time.
So I spend about a few hours eating downstairs in the pilot dungeon and 'gardening' the forums ("Can't log in!" "Someone stepped on my ego!" "Can't you be cooler like *insert website here*") and I realize that I haven't changed into my uniform yet and it's about 30 minutes prior to the flight leaving ATL for DCA.
So I run back to the commuter room, suit up and grab my flight kit after I remembered where I left it last wednesday (note: There are like 3000 pilot based in ATL so it's full of similar-sized flight kits).
I run into an old comrade from DFW who is absolutely sure that I have two kids and recently moved to Buckhead. I assure him that I don't have kids and haven't moved to ATL, nor do I wish to. But he's absolutely sure I have, and I spend the next 5 minutes trying to convince him that he's mistaken me for someone else.
So now it's 25 minutes prior to departure and I get the sick feeling that I'm going to be late and I'm going to have some anal captain that's going to be thumping the Flight Operations Manual screaming about showing up to the aircraft no less than 30 minutes prior to scheduled depature.
I check the boards to see what gate I'm departing out of and the flight says "CNX". "CNX" (pronounced "Canx") means that the flight is cancelled. So I check my rotation and my ATL-DCA-ATL turn has been CNX'ed and I'll be waiting around until 9pm for my flight to St. Louis to lay over.
So I take off my clip on tie, head back to the back of the lounge where I can find some peace and quiet to listen to MP3's and do all the jetcareers "behind the scenes" daily busywork.
About an hour later, I get a call on my cellular telephone from a "404" telephone number.
I'm already at work, perhaps it could be my friends Laura and TJ who live in Marietta calling to say "Howdy"
"Hello? First officer Doug Taylor? This is Atlanta crew scheduling"
"Umm, yeah?"
"Are you at the airport?"
"Umm, yeah?"
"Well, the first officer from flight XXX got injured and we need you to fly the 1730 departure to DCA and back to ATL and we'll lay you over in ATL"
"Huh?"
"Yeah, it just happened, can you make the flight?"
"Sure. I commute can you arrange a hotel?"
"Absolutely, check your rotation in DCA"
So I call Kristie, tell her that I'm laying over in ATL after a DCA turn and show up at the gate.
I arrive at the gate and one of the agents, damned near in a state of shock gives me a hug and tells me that the original FO cut a large section of his finger off during preflight.
WTFO?
So I sign in, do all of the "special" DCA departure stuff and arrive at the jet.
The "A" line (or lead flight attendant) is a semi-regular at jetcareers and is shifting between "Oh man, I read your forums all the time!" and "Holy cow, I never saw a guy bleed like that before".
I get my junk in the cockpit and there's a full sandwich, a diet coke and no captain.
The captain comes barreling into the cockpit breathlessly screaming somehting about his commuter flight from Greensboro being late and how he's late for sign in. The poor guy finally calms down and it turns out that he's new to the aircraft so I promised that I'd take good care of him and wouldn't hesitate to 'bruise his ego' if he screws something up.
Anyway, we push back about 5 minutes late, spend an extra 30 minutes circumnavigating thunderstorms on the eastern seaboard and do a "River Visual" to runway 19. We didn't even get a clearance to land until about 500' AGL because USAir slowed down way early and ATC instructed us to hold 170 knots until DCA 5.0 DME.
The captain executed a perfect landing and got stopped in plenty of time before "pucker factor nine" set in on a short runway.
We taxi into the gate, shut the engines down and what do I hear?
"Dammit, ya'll are late, I told the hotel that I'd be in at XXX and ya'll are 15 minutes late, I'll never fly ya'll again".
And that was just the first leg.
So I spend about a few hours eating downstairs in the pilot dungeon and 'gardening' the forums ("Can't log in!" "Someone stepped on my ego!" "Can't you be cooler like *insert website here*") and I realize that I haven't changed into my uniform yet and it's about 30 minutes prior to the flight leaving ATL for DCA.
So I run back to the commuter room, suit up and grab my flight kit after I remembered where I left it last wednesday (note: There are like 3000 pilot based in ATL so it's full of similar-sized flight kits).
I run into an old comrade from DFW who is absolutely sure that I have two kids and recently moved to Buckhead. I assure him that I don't have kids and haven't moved to ATL, nor do I wish to. But he's absolutely sure I have, and I spend the next 5 minutes trying to convince him that he's mistaken me for someone else.
So now it's 25 minutes prior to departure and I get the sick feeling that I'm going to be late and I'm going to have some anal captain that's going to be thumping the Flight Operations Manual screaming about showing up to the aircraft no less than 30 minutes prior to scheduled depature.
I check the boards to see what gate I'm departing out of and the flight says "CNX". "CNX" (pronounced "Canx") means that the flight is cancelled. So I check my rotation and my ATL-DCA-ATL turn has been CNX'ed and I'll be waiting around until 9pm for my flight to St. Louis to lay over.
So I take off my clip on tie, head back to the back of the lounge where I can find some peace and quiet to listen to MP3's and do all the jetcareers "behind the scenes" daily busywork.
About an hour later, I get a call on my cellular telephone from a "404" telephone number.
I'm already at work, perhaps it could be my friends Laura and TJ who live in Marietta calling to say "Howdy"
"Hello? First officer Doug Taylor? This is Atlanta crew scheduling"
"Umm, yeah?"
"Are you at the airport?"
"Umm, yeah?"
"Well, the first officer from flight XXX got injured and we need you to fly the 1730 departure to DCA and back to ATL and we'll lay you over in ATL"
"Huh?"
"Yeah, it just happened, can you make the flight?"
"Sure. I commute can you arrange a hotel?"
"Absolutely, check your rotation in DCA"
So I call Kristie, tell her that I'm laying over in ATL after a DCA turn and show up at the gate.
I arrive at the gate and one of the agents, damned near in a state of shock gives me a hug and tells me that the original FO cut a large section of his finger off during preflight.
WTFO?
So I sign in, do all of the "special" DCA departure stuff and arrive at the jet.
The "A" line (or lead flight attendant) is a semi-regular at jetcareers and is shifting between "Oh man, I read your forums all the time!" and "Holy cow, I never saw a guy bleed like that before".
I get my junk in the cockpit and there's a full sandwich, a diet coke and no captain.
The captain comes barreling into the cockpit breathlessly screaming somehting about his commuter flight from Greensboro being late and how he's late for sign in. The poor guy finally calms down and it turns out that he's new to the aircraft so I promised that I'd take good care of him and wouldn't hesitate to 'bruise his ego' if he screws something up.
Anyway, we push back about 5 minutes late, spend an extra 30 minutes circumnavigating thunderstorms on the eastern seaboard and do a "River Visual" to runway 19. We didn't even get a clearance to land until about 500' AGL because USAir slowed down way early and ATC instructed us to hold 170 knots until DCA 5.0 DME.
The captain executed a perfect landing and got stopped in plenty of time before "pucker factor nine" set in on a short runway.
We taxi into the gate, shut the engines down and what do I hear?
"Dammit, ya'll are late, I told the hotel that I'd be in at XXX and ya'll are 15 minutes late, I'll never fly ya'll again".
And that was just the first leg.
