"Wind Shear, Wind Shear"

In contemplating my recollection of today’s events, I can’t help but recall distant memories of Delta 191, the Lockheed L10-11 that crashed at Dallas, Ft. Worth International Airport (KDFW) in August 1985 after encountering wind shear on final approach to what was then runway 17L. I was in high school at the time and on a summer camping trip in the Colorado Mountains with a group of church friends when news of the tragedy reached me. My Dad was an L10-11 First Officer and unfortunately for me, the news I received did not include any information about my Dad. We spent another two days hiking through the mountains that week before I was able to confirm that my Dad was not involved. As it turns out, Dad was safe at home that day, but his friend and colleague Captain Ed Connors was in command of Flight 191.

There are a number of videos and audio clips available on YouTube and other sites that accurately depict the sequence of events that day at DFW, but what is rarely discussed is how little we really knew about wind shear at the time and more importantly, how poor the detecting and reporting was of such events. Today, most major airports are equipped with LLWAS (Low-Level Wind Shear Alerting System), a system comprised of 6 to 33 anemometers placed on and around an airport sensing wind speed and direction within 2 1/2 miles of the airport and our airliners have both reactive and predictive wind shear equipment to warn pilots of possible threats via aural and visual means. I feel certain, if Captain Connors had the information and warning systems then that we have today, Delta 191 would have been another flight that everyone forgot.

Today’s events come at the tail end of an otherwise uneventful three day trip. Uneventful is almost always a good thing when you’re talking about airplanes. Our day started with an early morning flight back home followed by a quick trip to Colorado Springs and back before we could call it a day. As we prepared for our flight to Colorado Springs, the Captain commented that the winds, currently blowing from 270 at about 30 knots, gusting to over 40 were too strong for us to land. The runways in use at Colorado Springs are oriented north/south, so a wind from 270 would be a direct crosswind. The MD80 we were flying boasts a max demonstrated crosswind limitation of 30 knots on a dry runway with good visibility (if you‘ve been following along, this may sound familiar). The runway was dry and there were no visibility issues complicating our arrival, but with winds gusting to 40 knots, we were going to need a backup plan. We noted that the forecast called for diminishing winds that should be below our limitations by scheduled arrival time and took off for the Springs with Denver International as an alternate.

As we approached the top of descent, we retrieved a current weather report for the airport and learned that the forecasts were correct and that the wind at the airport was just below the landing limits of the aircraft. We asked our flight attendants to prepare the cabin early and take their seats in anticipation of the kind of turbulence that typically accompanies strong westerly winds over the mountains and started to prepare for landing. The ride definitely did not disappoint. Sometimes we make a big fuss and predict a rough ride only to have perfectly smooth and comfortable conditions all the way to touchdown. I know we lose some credibility with the cabin crews when this happens but in this case, our prediction for turbulence was spot on. I cooled the cabin down a few degrees and hoped no one in the back would start the chain reaction that usually follows the first person who gets sick to their stomach. I won’t elaborate…

Let me add a few words about wind shear…The best course of action is almost always avoidance. But the truth is, airlines operate into cities every day that are prone to low level wind shear. If they cancelled every flight to Colorado Springs and Denver that intersected with a wind shear report, then air travel to those cities would be practically non-existent. With these cities in particular, it seems to be the combination of their location up against the eastern edge of the Rockies and the common nature of strong westerly winds that produce turbulence and wind shear events. Pilots are taught to avoid areas of severe wind shear at all costs, but intermittent or lesser events can be navigated with good piloting techniques and extra caution.

It is commonly held that pilot reports (PIREPS) of wind shear in excess of 20 knots or 500 feet per minute climb or descent within 1000 feet of the ground are all good indications of severe conditions and should be avoided at all costs. Given the fact that these conditions develop, change and dissipate rapidly, a pilot would be wise to consider the amount of time since the report was made.  Keep in mind that the aircraft just a few miles in front of Delta 191, flew the same approach to the same runway with no indication of threat and landed safely. The most dangerous form of wind shear and the most likely cause of the Delta 191 accident is a convective microburst. Some microbursts have been documented with wind changes in excess of 150 knots. Also, since microbursts intensify for several minutes after they first impact the ground, the severity may be up to twice that which is initially reported. It is very important to remember that the aircraft ahead of you on the approach may experience vastly different conditions than you will encounter in the same airspace.

In the picture to the left, you an see that as an airplane enters the leading edge of a microburst, the first indication is an increased headwind. As the aircraft continues into the microburst, the headwind shifts to a downdraft then a tailwind. It is the down draft and tailwind portion of the microburst that is intensely dangerous to airplanes of all shapes and sizes. Additionally, a microburst viewed from above is round and shaped like an upside down mushroom. It is possible to fly through the edges of a microburst and never encounter the downdraft or the tailwind.



Back to my flight…

As we approached the airport from the south, I made every effort to be prepared early for the approach and landing. Arriving from the south into Colorado Springs when the airport is landing north can be a handful even on a normal day. Approach control usually instructs us to cross the FSHER intersection at 14,000 feet on the arrival. FSHER is roughly 25 miles south of the airport, so with a touchdown zone elevation of 6,118 feet above sea level, we only have 25 miles to lose just under 8,000 feet. This isn’t a problem and can be handled without too much effort if you have already slowed the aircraft by the time you reach FSHER. The gotcha here is that a typical descent speed for the MD80 would be around 300 knots, plus or minus depending on a number of factors, and the pilots are not required to slow to 250 knots until descending below 10,000 feet. So if the pilot crosses FSHER at 14,000 feet indicating 300 knots, then getting down is going to be next to impossible since slowing from 300 to 250 will add about an extra 5 miles to the distance needed to descend.

Maybe that’s too much information, but I want to emphasize that this arrival can be a challenge even without the threat of wind shear. I crossed the FSHER intersection at 14,000 as instructed with the airspeed steady at 250 knots in preparation for our descent for runway 35R. We were then cleared to continue our descent and were given a heading to intercept the final approach course for the runway. There weren’t any aircraft ahead of us on the approach to relay reports on the airborne conditions, but Tower and Approach Control were reporting gains and losses near 20 knots on the ground surrounding the field. We elected to continue our approach and make a final assessment of the conditions at 1,000 feet on final.  We wouldn't ge that far.

I slowed the aircraft and configured for landing a little early to ensure a stabilized approach and was on final approach speed, glide slope and fully configured for lading at 1,500 feet above touchdown when we got a yellow wind shear light on the glare shield. The yellow light is an indication of an “increasing performance” wind shear and is yellow to emphasize caution. Increasing performance means that we went from a tailwind to a headwind or a headwind to a stronger headwind in a short distance. Neither of these is particularly dangerous, but is a possible indication that we were entering the leading edge of a microburst. A go-around is not required for this indication, but great caution is advised and we were prepared for a possible missed approach and escape maneuver.

About 200 feet later in the descent and just about the time I had processed the yellow light flashing in my face, the light extinguished and was replaced by a red flashing wind shear light and aural “wind shear, wind shear“ warning from the speaker above my head. In anticipation of a possible wind shear event, I had already increased our approach speed by 20 knots and was intentionally flying slightly high on the glide path. I knew the runway ahead was long and sloped upward from the touch down zone, so I was confident that dissipating the extra speed would not be a problem. I announced “escape” and pressed the TOGA (Take-Off, Go-Around) buttons on the throttles which automatically commanded go-around thrust on both engines.  I followed the commands of the flight director to just under 20 degrees nose up, but for a short time, the aircraft would not climb.

It is difficult for me to believe, but with 24 years of flying experience under my belt, this was my first actual encounter with “decreasing performance” wind shear outside of the simulator. This is something I train for every single time I enter the sim, but I had never actually seen one in real life, and this one was pretty mild. With the nose pointing to the sky and two JT8D-219 engines producing nearly 40,000 pounds of thrust, the jet would not climb. We were well over a thousand feet above the ground with power to spare in case the event became more severe, but it was an incredibly long 3-5 seconds before we began to exit the wind shear and started to climb away from terra firma. Once we began to climb, I asked the Captain to raise the gear, reduced thrust on the engines and cleaned up as we would on a normal flight.

We departed the area to the east where the ride was a little less turbulent and entered a holding pattern to give the conditions a little time to improve. We also wanted a few other airplanes go in and land without incident before we elected to try again. On the second approach, we added in the same safety margins as before, but encountered a relatively smooth ride down final and landed uneventfully. As we taxied to the gate, I recalled images of Delta 191. I couldn’t help but wonder if Captain Ed Connors would have made a different decision about his approach and landing that day had he been graced with the knowledge and equipment that we had on this approach. Maybe he would have executed a missed approach earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have started the approach at all. I guess we’ll never know for sure, but I am confident the outcome would have been much different.

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Ice, Sleet and Snow...oh my!

Sitting in line for takeoff in Atlanta this morning

I started a three day trip yesterday with a five leg day passing through Dallas, Ft. Worth, Memphis and Austin before finishing the day in Atlanta where we spent the night. All five leg days are long, but this one went quite smoothly, which was a good thing since we were all expecting significant weather related challenges on day two of our trip. I’ll get to the weather in a minute.

We landed in Atlanta last night after dark with ceilings reported at 200 feet and visibility expressed in feet, not miles. The approach to Atlanta was an interesting one, the ILS/PRM (Simultaneous Close Parallel) approach to runway 10. The procedure is a standard ILS approach with localizer and glideslope indications except that it is too close to a parallel runway (9R in this case) to be flown using normal procedures. The pilot’s must be specially trained to fly such an approach and there is a page long explanation that must be read and reviewed before executing the approach. The procedures call for the pilots to monitor a second tower frequency during the approach to guard against blocked transmissions and the pilots must be alert and ready to immediately follow break out instructions from the tower controller in case another aircraft “blunders” into your airspace. You might find some humor in the word blunder, I know I did, but that is the actual word used in the FAA explanation for this approach. Here’s the actual wording…

“pilots, when directed by ATC to break off an approach, must assume that an aircraft is blundering toward their course and a breakout must be initiated immediately”

I do think it’s important to have a good laugh every now and then and I laughed out loud when I read that line approaching Atlanta last night.

Ice forming on a heated window

 

As I mentioned before, the weather forecast for DFW predicted a crippling combination of ice, sleet and snow. I woke up early this morning to give myself time to look at the weather and check the status of my flight before heading downstairs to catch the hotel van. Overnight, the DFW area was hit by a thin layer of clear ice, followed by something less than an inch of sleet and ice pellets followed by a shallow layer of snow. Those of you in colder climates may feel free to poke fun at southern US residents and their inability to drive in snow, but I think you would agree that the combination of ice, sleet and snow can be a deadly combination. When I first checked the DFW weather, the wind was blowing from 320 degrees at 29 gusting to 44 knots (KDFW 32029G44KT 2SM TSSNPL BR BKN009 OVC013CB M03/M06) and all the runways were closed. The airport authority at DFW had planned to treat the runways overnight in preparation for today’s weather event, but due to heavy rain, the runways went untreated. As a result the ice, sleet and snow stuck to the runways and it took hours to get even one runway in a condition safe enough for use.

By 9am, DFW had one of it’s seven runways open and that runway was only being used for arrivals. It was another two hours before a second runway was open for use by departing aircraft. The airlines, which had preemptively cancelled hundreds of flights continued to cancel even more as the day went on. In contrast, Dallas Love Field, just miles away was unable to open all day forcing Southwest, Delta and Continental Airlines to cancel every flight out of the airport all day.

Back at the gate in Atlanta and ready to depart, our flight was held on the ground while we waited for word on the condition of the runway. At the time the gate agent finished boarding, the runways at DFW were still closed, but were expected to be open by the time we landed. An hour after our scheduled departure time, we elected to takeoff in hopes that the runways would in fact be open when we arrived. Of course, we had an alternate airport planned in case the runways were still closed when we arrived, but we certainly hoped we wouldn’t need it.

We departed Atlanta where the visibility was still hovering around CATII minimums and headed toward DFW. Just as we leveled off at FL340, we received word that one runway was open at DFW and we would be able to land. The runway was covered in ice and snow, but a short time later we were informed that several company jets had landed and reported braking action good.

Our flight plans have a column indicating forecast ride conditions. The ride forecast comes from a combination of actual reports from other aircraft and the professional opinion of a meteorologist. The forecast is expressed as a number between 0 and 5...0 being a perfectly smooth ride and 5 being something like the inside of an F5 tornado. Our ride prediction for today’s flight was a 3...not good. The ride in was terrible with moderate chop and turbulence for most of the flight. We tried various altitudes, high and low, to find a smooth ride, but it just didn’t happen. The flight attendants stayed in their seats and I kept the cabin as cool as possible without freezing people out in an effort to prevent a chain reaction of air sickness.

The landing at DFW was actually a little anti-climactic. By the time we arrived, the precipitation had ended and the airport had successfully opened two runways. We landed on runway 31R while 31L was being utilized for takeoff operations only. The runway was completely covered in ice and snow, but the braking action reports were all good and although the wind, still peaking at 40+ knots was strong, it also meant that when we touched down, we were just that much closer to taxi speed which of course just shortens our landing distance.

The biggest problem I had was getting home. My car was literally frozen to the pavement in the employee lot and the drive home that usually takes 20 minutes on a good day and 25 minutes in the heat of rush hour traffic took an hour and a half. The rest of my trip was canceled and scheduling put me on reserve beginning at 3am in the morning. I really hope they don’t call…not sure if I could get to the airport anyway. We’ll see.

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At the Edge of Safety

The following was originally posted at  www.aviationschoolsonline.com/blog  Check out their site to view more recent posts by other authors. 

Do you remember the details of your last drive to work? If the weather was nice and the roads were in good condition, you probably don’t. How about the last time you topped an ice covered bridge in the winter with a stout wind blowing from one side to the other? I remember the last time that happened to me in great detail. Tightened grip on the wheel…concern and accuracy with the placement of my tires on the rough…enter the bridge slightly upwind if possible…mildly elevated heart rate. At my job as an MD80 First Officer, I rarely remember the specifics of a particular day or individual landing. I go to work, fly from here to there, layover and do it again the next day. My internal autopilot often engages and things just seem to happen on their own. Don’t get me wrong, I take every flight seriously and devote my professional existence to performing at my best, but as many times as I’ve landed this airplane, things begin to happen without consciously thinking of every move. However, every now and then I find myself in a situation that gets my heart beating and adrenaline flowing. 

Climbing out of DFW this morning on our way to Minneapolis, I pulled up a current weather report so the Captain would have the most up-to-date weather information to pass along to the passengers when he made his next PA. I was surprised to see that the conditions at the airport were worse than forecast with strong crosswinds, visibility around 2 miles and light snow. When I signed in early this morning, I checked the weather along our route and at Minneapolis, our final destination. The visibility was hovering around 3 miles in light snow with crosswinds blowing steadily at 18 knots and forecasts predicted improved conditions with diminishing winds and improved visibility as the day went on.

I really wasn’t overly concerned about the weather reports. Snow and wind is part of the deal when flying up north this time of year and today’s weather was no exception. As we continued, I kept an eye on airport conditions, retrieving new reports about every 30 minutes, checking for special reports and hourly observations. As we began our descent from 35,000 feet, I checked the weather one last time and discovered that the visibility had dropped to ¾ of a mile in snow with wind blowing directly across the runway at 24 knots.

The Captain and I both began to wonder about crosswind limits and retrieved our operating manuals to verify the limitations in diminished conditions. These numbers are the sort of thing they ask us every year in training, but since we rarely operate near the limits, it’s always a good idea to check your memory against the books. The maximum demonstrated crosswind for the MD80 is 30 knots on a runway with good visibility and favorable braking action reports. Reduce the braking action report to fair, and the crosswind limit drops to 20 knots. Reduce the visibility below ¾ and the max crosswind limit drops further to 15 knots. The current visibility at the airport was ¾, which was just enough to avoid a crosswind reduction, but with snow and ice on the runway, we were concerned about braking action reports. We would have to wait until we got a hand-off to Minneapolis approach before we would be able to get an accurate braking action report, so we continued preparations for landing.

The Captain briefed an ILS to runway 12R and I tuned and identified the frequencies. We continued our descent as I completed the Descent Checklist and got started on the Before Landing Checklist. I flipped the switch on our number one radio to check on with approach and overheard a Delta jet inquire about the winds. The wind was still blowing directly across the runway with gusts to 24 knots, but the controller relayed a braking action report of “fair.” As I mentioned before, the crosswind would have to be less than 20 knots before we could land with a fair report. I waited for a break in the radio congestion and informed the controller that we would be unable to land. “Say your intentions“ he said.  I requested holding then explained that we needed a braking report of “good” before we could accept the approach. MSP approach informed us that the “fair” report was from a much smaller aircraft and that they would get reports from larger aircraft ahead of us on the arrival.

There were several Delta A320s on the arrival in front of us that seemed content with the winds and continued the approach. I was a little surprised that their limits would be different than ours, but I was also pleased that someone ahead of us could land and hopefully report better conditions on the runway. A report of braking action “good” was reported by the next aircraft and we accepted an approach clearance. There were now two Delta jets ahead of us on the approach and as we passed 3000 feet on the glide slope, the first relayed another report of “fair” but the aircraft in front of us landed and passed along another “good” report. We were legal to land.  

The back and forth reports of the conditions on the runway concerned me greatly and present an opportunity to mention the different and sometimes contradictory terms legal and safe. There are a great many times in aviation that an action may be legal, but not safe. There are probably a number of examples of safe, but not legal, but none come to mind at the moment. Our manuals and the Federal Aviation Regulations determine the rules by which we operate our aircraft, but the legal minimums don’t always take all relevant factors into consideration and sometimes don’t provide enough of a margin for safety. For the MD80, the maximum crosswind limitation for a runway with braking action “good “ is 30 knots. The crosswind today was gusting to 24 on a snow covered runway with suspect braking reports.  Legal?  Yes.  Safe?  That’s up to the pilot. How long is the runway? What type aircraft made the report? How experienced was the pilot and do you trust his subjective opinion of the conditions? All these things come into play at this point of the process and they are all valid considerations. Legal is not always safe, and the decision isn’t always easy and is never made in a vacuum.

There are other considerations as well. The vast majority of the approaches we fly provide ample room for mistakes and malfunction, but while incredibly rare, system malfunctions do occur. An airplane is an incredibly complex machine and sometimes things go wrong within landing critical systems like brakes, anti-skid, spoilers and reversers…sometimes at the most inopportune moment. When operating into an airport near sea level with long runways on a day with favorable weather conditions, there’s automatic room for error and abnormality. Dallas, Ft. Worth International, for instance, is an airport where the runways, at only 600 ft. above sea level, are almost all longer than 13,000 feet in an area of the country that enjoys generally mild weather conditions. I realize you might take issue with that statement in August when it’s 113 degrees outside, but compare DFW to Minneapolis and the approach we flew today with an 8,000 ft. runway covered in ice and snow where the winds were blowing directly across the runway at 24 knots and what you have is an approach and landing at the maximum capability of the aircraft. On an approach like this one, very little can go wrong without dire consequences. The Captain and I determined that we were legal and decided it was safe to land, so we proceeded with the approach….carefully.

The Captain was at the controls and I assisted him as best I could with regular callouts regarding our speed, altitude and changes in the wind as we continued down the glide-slope. We completed our landing checklist and were stabilized on the approach well before the required 1000 feet. When I say stabilized, what I mean is that we were on speed, on glide-slope, engines stabilized and properly configured. Statistics show that the chances for a successful approach and landing are far greater when the aircraft is properly configured for landing and stabilized on the approach by 1000 ft.

The wind was gusty and we experienced plus and minus 10 knot fluctuations in airspeed most of the way down final, but the Captain put the aircraft right in the touch down zone, the auto brakes and auto spoilers deployed as planned and we stopped with plenty of runway to spare. As we slowed to taxi speed, the anti-skid began to release the brakes in an effort to maintain traction, but I would have to say that I agreed with the preceding jet’s assessment of the braking action and we passed along our own report to the tower.

You know that feeling you sometimes get after driving home from work when you can’t remember exactly how you got home? We didn’t feel that way after this landing. We cleared the runway and taxied to the gate with a sense of relief, and maybe a little pride, for a job well done. Hats off to the Captain for shooting the perfect approach in some pretty awful conditions. Go to work. Fly from here to there. Layover and do it again the next day. When we return in the morning, hopefully the line between safe and legal won’t be so thin.

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A Very Merry Christmas

This post starts out on a sour note, but ends well…so stick with me. The year 2000 was a difficult year that culminated in the story I‘m about to tell. I had already missed my oldest daughter’s birthday and baptism, my anniversary, Easter, Thanksgiving and pretty much everything else of any importance along the way, so it came as no surprise that I held a line in December that worked on Christmas day. I was on reserve from December 21st through the 26th but was quite pleased to get a three day trip on the 23rd that got off at 8:30am on Christmas day. I spent the night in Indianapolis, Indiana on Christmas Eve and was scheduled to work an early morning flight home on Christmas day. One leg home…what could possibly go wrong?
We got to the airport before sunrise and the Captain went straight to the gate to get our paperwork as I went down to the jet to warm things up and get started on my pre-flight duties. When I returned from my walk-around, the Captain was sitting in his seat with a somber look on his face. “Bad news” he said, “I checked your schedule and they’ve re-assigned you to fly to Long Beach tonight. You’re scheduled to fly home on the 26th. Your going to miss Christmas.”

“Well” I told him, “that’s fine, but they’re going to have to catch me.” The airline can’t just add a new fight assignment to a pilot’s schedule without notifying him of the change, and since it had been the Captain who logged into the computer to check my schedule and not me, it was their responsibility to notify me of the change…I certainly wasn’t going to call them.

There are a number of ways for the company to notify me of such a change. First, after we were airborne on our way home, Crew Tracking could have sent us a message over the ACARS system. ACARS is a communication system that allows the company to send a message that prints out in the cockpit. Our contract does not require me to respond to such a message while flying, but it would have given me a heads up that they were in fact trying to contact me. We never received an ACARS message.

The next and most common opportunity for contact is through the “changeover report.” About 30 minutes before we land at any destination, I send a message to the company through the ACARS system to notify them of our expected landing time. This information is passed on to ramp and gate personnel and also updates the computer screens that you read in the terminal. We receive a printed response that, among other things, includes information about crew connections. If I was expected to perform another flying assignment, then the changeover would include gate and departure information for my next flight. But instead of providing this information, the report clearly stated “No Crew Connect Info.” I quietly folded the report and stuck it in my pocket.

Next was the call to company ramp control. After we landed, I called the ramp controller to inform him that we were on the ground and requested an entry spot to the ramp. If Crew Tracking was looking for me, the ramp controller would have instructed me to call them after we parked. I received no such message.

After we parked at the gate and the door opened, I looked out onto the jet bridge…no suit with a clip board and the phone was not ringing…good.  So with the “No Crew Connect Info” message in my shirt pocket, I turned to the Captain and told him I was going home. “Must have gotten someone else” I told him.

As I started to pack my bags, four stripes got out of his seat and went out onto the jet bridge. He didn’t say anything to me and I didn’t know where he was going. As I exited the jet with my bags in hand, he was standing there on the phone with what I would describe as a “ha, I got ya” look on his face. He held the phone out where the person on the other end could hear and said “I called Crew Tracking for you…” You What?! The voice in my head was screaming something I can’t repeat in this forum. “They need you for the trip…just forgot to notify you.” I wanted to kill him. I freely admit now, that if they had not been able to contact me, some other pilot would have had to fly the trip and would have missed Christmas with HIS family…either that or the flight would have been cancelled all together. Neither is palatable to me now, but I certainly wasn’t thinking of such things at the time. It’s all about me!!!

Before we left Indy 3 hours earlier, I placed a call to my wife and broke the news to her. She grew up with a father who was always home for the holidays and took the news hard. She is, however, a strong, supportive woman and a great wife and as a surprise, she got the kids out of bed and met me at the gate as I exited the jet. It was wonderful to see her and my two little ladies, even if it was only for 10-15 minutes. They brought me some food intended for our Christmas dinner, gave me a present to open and a few last hugs as I boarded the plane to Long Beach.

The worst part? My oldest daughter was only 4 at the time and didn’t understand that I wasn’t going home with her. So as the truth became apparent, she melted down right there in the boarding area with 136 passengers sitting around waiting for their flight. She began to scream and cry and begged me no to go. As I rounded the corner and walked onto the jet, the last thing I heard her say was “Daddy, please don’t go…if you won’t go, I promise to be good.” Broke my heart. I’m pretty sure my wife had a few ugly thoughts for all those people who just HAD to fly on Christmas.

So that was my worst Christmas…here‘s my best.

This year, Christmas 2010, my seniority is about the same, maybe a little worse, than it was in 2000. That’s a story for another day, but let’s just say that between 9/11, swine flu, bird flu, sky rocketing fuel prices, age 65 and the recession, that airline pilot’s haven’t done so well in the last 10 years. I was a reserve MD80 FO in 2000 and I’m a reserve MD80 FO today. My schedule this year had me on reserve beginning on Christmas day and working through the 29th. I did my best to get a trip on Christmas day that signed in late enough to have some time with my family before I had to go to work, but was assigned a trip with a sign-in time of 5:50am. That meant I would have to leave the house at 4:50...just a little early for any quality family time. It wasn’t a total loss as the trip was just a two leg turn, out and back in the same day. I would be home in time for dinner.

We spent Christmas Eve at my in-laws house. We were all sitting around the fire trading stories at about 3 in the afternoon when my cell phone rang. I’ve been doing this long enough to know not to answer my phone if I don’t know who‘s calling. If they’re short on pilots and you’re stupid enough to pick up the phone, your it…day off or not, you're going to work. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, so I let it go to voice mail. A minute or so later, my phone chimed in again indicating a new voice mail, so I punch the button and listened to a message from the MD80 Fleet Training Manager.  “Hey Brad, can you holler at me on my mobile please, I’d like to displace you tomorrow.” I'm going to omit his name out of respect since he probably doesn't want to publicize his actions, but the guy is a management pilot in charge of all MD80 training and doesn’t have to work on Christmas or any other holiday. 

I jumped up with such a start that wife thought something was wrong. She later told me that her first thought, in reaction to the look on my face, was that someone had died! I hurried into the next room so I could respond to the call in private and my wife followed along. I gave her a thumbs up as my new best friend picked up on the other end. We only spoke for a few minutes, but he explained to me that his children were all grown and out of the house and that it was his pleasure to give me the day with my family. He thanked me for my service to the company, asked about past holidays and seemed pleased to learn that it had been so many years since I had had Christmas day off.

In hind sight, it occurs to me that I will still want to spend Christmas with my kids when they are grown and out of the house.  It also occurs to me that he’s been doing this same thing for years and hasn’t had Christmas with his family either. I've heard rumors from time to time about this yearly Christmas gift. I’ve heard that he calls some junior guy who’s stuck flying on Christmas for the umpteenth year in a row and gives that pilot the day off with pay. I always thought the stories might just be urban legend and certainly never thought I would be the recipient of his good graces.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but of all the people this affected, my 14 year old daughter was more touched than anyone. She had been telling me for weeks that I could keep the presents...all she wanted was for me to be home on Christmas.  I didn’t think there was any chance it would happen, and I definitely couldn’t have foreseen the outcome of the day. This will be a Christmas that my family will never forget.

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Kids and Airplanes

I come from a long line of men obsessed with aviation and a slightly shorter list of women who support our love of the skies. One of my Grandfathers was a private pilot, the other was a B-25 Crew Chief in WWII and my own Father flew OV-1 Mohawks in Vietnam followed by a 32 year career with Delta Air Lines. There are even aviators on my wife’s side of the family with a Grandfather who flew for Braniff in the ‘50s and ‘60s before tragically passing away years before mandatory retirement. So, while a career in aviation was never pushed or even initially encouraged, it was no surprise to anyone that I developed a fascination with anything that flew at a very young age.


My earliest memories of airplanes are those of family vacations. I still remember the smells, colors, sounds and textures of my first flight like it was yesterday. I remember walking down the jet bridge with the high pitched whine of two JT8s spooling down at the gate next door surrounded by bright orange carpet and olive green, orange and red striped walls, horrendous mismatches today, were both in style and hip at the time. The aroma of jet exhaust combined with the odor of well used carpet and fresh brewed coffee with a gleaming Boeing 727 waiting, door ajar, at the end of the hall.

Of course, since my father was an employee of the airline, we were traveling as non-revs, non revenue that is, so we boarded at the last minute, taking the last few seats on the jet as I was pushed past the cockpit door that I so desperately wanted to enter. I remember my Dad’s words, words that we heard just about every time we flew…”sit still, keep your feet off the seats, and if you push the stewardess call button you’ll be sorry.” He was only kidding just a little and yes, it was ok to call them stewardesses back then.

We flew often and my early memories of flying mesh together a bit, but one of my favorites is that of a trip my Dad took me on when I was only 10. He was a Boeing 727 First Officer and he had a long layover in Portland, Oregon. The loads were light both directions so he elected to take me along. There were dangers involved for a crew member taking a child to work. If the flight had unexpectedly filled up, as they often do, Dad would still have to work the flight and would be forced to leave me behind. With this in mind, Dad waited until he thought I was old enough to handle being left before taking me on my first trip, and he always made arrangements ahead of time for a gate agent to help me to the next flight home if there wasn’t a seat for me at departure time.

As it turns out, the flights to and from Portland were only half full and I had no trouble getting on. Once we arrived, Dad rented a car and we spent the day driving up the Columbia River Gorge, stopping at many of the waterfalls and hiking paths along the way and drove around Mt. Hood before heading back to the city. The flight home was an all-nighter, leaving Portland around midnight and arriving Dallas, Ft. Worth International Airport at about 5:30 am. I remember that Dad was able to take me down to the jet before the rest of the passengers…I got the tour of the cockpit that I had missed on my first flight and even got to help set up the cockpit before departure. The flight attendants put me to work on the way home and I helped them pass out drinks and serve the passengers on the flight home. I think my Dad has always been secretly pleased that I chose the cockpit job over the one in the cabin.

Having first hand knowledge of the impact these early experiences have on young boys and girls, I’ve always taken great joy in extending invitations to visit the cockpit to children of all ages. I usually take the time to explain some of the basic systems, activate lights and aural warnings and if the parent is present, allow the child to sit in my lap and manipulate the flight controls. Of course pictures are always in order with a pilot’s hat on their head and the cockpit as the perfect backdrop.

On a recent trip, I found my self covering the balance of a trip for a pilot who had gotten sick half way through his sequence. Crew Schedule caught me at home and I knew I was in trouble when the lead off question was “how fast can you get to the airport?” On day two of the trip, I worked an early morning flight from Minneapolis to Chicago then deadheaded home on a flight to Dallas. The original trip had been assigned to a Chicago based pilot, so once we arrived at ORD, the trip was over and I rode as a passenger on a flight home.

As I boarded the flight, I was standing in line with a man and his wife and their three boys, the oldest of which appeared to be about 10 years old. The flight was running behind, so the boys would have to forgo a trip to the cockpit, but they seemed content tossing a barrage of questions in my direction as we made our way to our seats. As it turned out the boys sat right behind me and before I knew it, we were airborne and I was on my knees facing their direction to better facilitate what became an hour long question and answer session. I like your hat…can I wear your hat? Where’s hour coat? Can I wear that too? How fast are we going? How high are we? Can I have a pair of wings like yours?

That last question is one I get a lot. Sadly, during the post 9/11 era of red ink and bankruptcy filings, many airlines including this one, chose to eliminate plastic wings for children, a decision that probably saved them at least 25 cents. I’m not ignorant enough to believe that someone would chose one airline over another based on Junior Pilot Wings, but I do believe that making people and especially their children feel welcomed by the airline is just good business. With this in mind, I’ve scoured the internet over the years and have always been able to keep a stash of wings in my kit bag for just such an occasion. I don’t have enough to give a pair to every child who boards the jet, but if they know enough to ask, I don’t want to disappoint. It’s a little thing…but it makes a difference.

So, I got my kit bag down out of the overhead bin and started digging around. I asked one of the boys to hold my flashlight and another held one of my flight manuals. I knew where the wings were, but the boys seemed so excited to be delving through the depths of my bag that I couldn’t resist playing around a bit more. I pulled out three pair of wings, one for each of my new friends and with their parent’s consent, pinned them all on in the appropriate location. I wish you could have seen their faces. It was such a small thing…I think I spent less than $2 on ebay for this particular bag of wings, but you would have thought I had handed them a bar of gold. All three boys seemed grateful and admired their new possessions, but the wings didn’t even put a dent in the number or frequency of questions coming my way. I took great joy in being a small part of what I hope was a grand first aviation memory for these three young boys.

I know for a fact, that I got as much out of the encounter as they did. I love my job.

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Back In The Seat

I’m not sure if there is a way for me to explain all the events of the last two days without writing a book. I thought of naming this post “Two Days of Hell” but decided while accurate, that it sounded a little too melodramatic. Late aircraft, fog, freezing fog, a near miss on the arrival to Austin while preparing for a CAT III approach, maintenance issues on the ground and in the air all topped off with irate passengers and a tired and ticked off crew…it was an exhausting two days.

If you’ve been following along, then you know that I’ve been out on vacation for a while. I don’t know if it was a much deserved vacation, but I can tell you that it was much appreciated. As a result of some creative bidding, I was able to turn a two week vacation into a four week break from anything and everything airline. I walked to the employee parking lot one month ago today and didn’t step foot on the airport grounds for an entire month. It was good for my psychological well being to separate myself from the sometimes hectic life of an airline pilot, but I’m thankful to be back in the air and hoping for a few good stories to share with you. That said, my first two days back were a tremendous nightmare in just about every sense. As I sit here the morning after, it’s difficult for me to believe that this all transpired on a single two day trip.
I arrived at the airport around 7am on day one and made my way to pilot operations and, as expected, found a mailbox full of revisions that had been piling up over the last four weeks. It took almost an hour to update my manuals before I signed in on the computer and noticed that my jet was due in at 8:44 (my flight to Austin, TX was scheduled to depart at 8:45). I wasn’t paying close enough attention and mistook 8:44 for 7:44 and left the comfort of operations for the hectic environment of the gate and a late flight.

Once at the gate, I realized my error and started looking into the reason behind the delay and took a closer look at the weather ahead of me for the day. The weather in Austin was below takeoff minimums with RVR hovering around 400 ft. and takeoff minimums of 500. The aircraft I was scheduled to fly to Austin was actually still sitting in Austin where it had spent the night. The visibility eventually crept above 500 an hour past their scheduled departure time and my airplane was finally on its way.

With a little extra time, I took a look at the weather in all three cities I was scheduled into for the day. Austin was going to be interesting. I was expecting a very low visibility approach, probably a CAT III ILS. Denver was next where they were reporting equally low visibility with freezing fog and moderate turbulence thrown in for good measure. Dallas was forecasting strong and gusty crosswinds all day which left Nashville as the only bright spot with mild weather and a pleasant forecast.

Once the jet finally arrived, we did our best to get turned around in a hurry. Everyone did their jobs, the Captain and I split responsibilities and we were able to make up 15 minutes, pushing back from the gate 45 minutes behind schedule for the first of five legs. As we came to a stop after the pushback, the crew chief cleared us to start engines…I prepared for the start by turning off the packs (air-conditioning system) and opening the cross-feed valves and the Captain turned on the ignition and pressed the start switch…nothing. I looked at him; he looked at me, both with that “what did we forget” look. APU air switch on, packs off, cross-feel valves open, ignition switch selected to continuous…we were doing it right, it just wasn’t working. It turns out that the load control valve on the APU was not working properly and would not open to provide air to the start valve. (jet engines do not start using a traditional starter like you would find on a car or a small piston engine aircraft…jet engines need air to start, and we weren’t getting any) The valve in question had been working only minutes earlier, but it wasn’t working now.

Unable to start the engines, we were towed back to the gate where we contacted maintenance and explained the situation. A company mechanic showed up quickly and elected to defer the APU instead of taking time for a repair since the flight was already over an hour late. With the APU deferred, we would need a “start cart” to provide air to start the engines, a process that would take place at the gate before push-back. We would also need air pumped into the aircraft while at the gate to keep the cabin cool…or warm depending on our location.

By the time all the paperwork was in order and the proper equipment for starting the engines was in place, we were already an hour and a half past departure time with five legs to go. It was going to be a long day. We eventually got underway and took off for Austin where the visibility was just above landing minimums when we arrived. Austin approach is not typically over-tasked with traffic, but as a result of the poor weather conditions earlier in the morning, the airspace was saturated with aircraft of all sizes attempting to land. We typically come in from the north and land to the south without incurring a delay. Instead, we came in from the north and were vectored south of the airport, then back to the north to put us in sequence with other aircraft before being vectored to intercept the ILS approach to runway 17L. There is only one runway in Austin that is equipped for low visibility approaches, a fact that was not helping with the traffic congestion.

To add insult to injury, just as we were abeam the airport and level at 5000 ft, the arrival controller apparently lost track of a small plane that had just departed Austin. Our onboard Traffic Collision Avoidance System (TCAS) announced “traffic, traffic” and we turned our heads to visually acquire the traffic. Shortly thereafter TCAS announced “monitor vertical speed” and the Vertical Speed Indicator (VSI) displayed green and red arcs to emphasize where we should and should not be. Apparently unaware, the controller then issued us a clearance to descent to 4000 ft (into the traffic) just as TCAS announced “climb, climb” and we notified ATC that we were responding to a TCAS Resolution Advisory (RA) and that we were climbing out of 5000 ft. We only climbed 300 ft. before receiving the “clear of conflict” call from TCAS as the conflict aircraft passed behind us out of harms way. We had the traffic in sight the entire time and were never in any real danger of collision, but the added excitement was not what we needed.

We managed the rest of the approach without any further drama and arrived at the gate an hour and a half late. Austin turned us around in good time, especially given the extra work associated with our deferred APU, and I took the controls for the first time in a month for the flight back to DFW. Other than gusty crosswinds at DFW, the flight home was normal; however, once at the gate at DFW, we were still well behind schedule and in danger of exceeding our duty day limits if we were not able to make up any time.

As I mentioned before, the weather in Denver, our next destination, was much the same as Austin with the addition of colder temperatures, freezing fog and reports of moderate turbulence on the arrival. However, the forecast for improved conditions proved correct and by the time we found ourselves on the arrival at Denver, the weather had improved enough for a visual approach and the airport was clearly in view 20 miles out on final.

With a quick turn in Denver, an 85 knot tailwind and a few short cuts, we reduced our tardiness to one hour by the time we arrived back at DFW. Our time on the ground there was uneventful except that we had an issue with a passenger just before departure who was frantically searching for a lost earring. Blaming and cursing at those around her the flight attendants took control of the situation and were able to move some people around in the cabin and calm the passenger down. Even though her frustration was understandable, it would not be at all unusual to leave a passenger behind who was acting out in this manner, but with the advice and consent of three capable flight attendants, we elected to show some grace and understanding and departed for Nashville for the night. With five legs, 13 hours and 13 minutes on duty and 9 hours and 6 minutes of flight time behind us we arrived in Nashville 53 minutes late.

Nashville was a nice treat after a long day. I got to my hotel room around 9:30 pm, changed clothes and went out for a cold drink and some live music. Our hotel is one block from Broadway, with a plethora of music choices. The Captain was tired and went straight to bed, so I went out alone and spent about an hour enjoying surprisingly good country music and the company of strangers before retiring for the night.

The second day of our trip started off looking good…relatively speaking. Our transportation to the airport arrived on time, we were paired with a friendly group of St. Louis based flight attendants, we had favorable weather ahead and the jet we would fly to DFW was waiting for us at the gate when we arrived. That was pretty much the end of anything good for the day. Once in the cockpit, I found that there were a number of deferred items that we would need to research and understand before departure. There was a problem with the fuel pumps in the center fuel tank, not a factor on this flight since we would not have center tank fuel on board. There was also a problem with the auto spoiler system, which meant we would not have auto spoilers in the event of an aborted takeoff or auto spoilers for the landing. The auto spoilers on landing would be missed, especially with gusty crosswinds back at DFW. We’d make do, and I’d have something to blame a bad landing on…but of course, I don’t make bad landings. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) In addition and as a result of the deferred auto spoiler, the aircraft was not capable of flying a CAT III approach, but with agreeable weather ahead, that too was not going to be a factor. Honestly, none of the deferrals had any huge affect on the operation; they were just another pain in the neck on an already fatiguing trip.

We flew to DFW where we were scheduled to swap jets before continuing on to Houston. Swapping jets is common, especially when passing through one of our hub cities and it’s at least as inconvenient for the pilots as it is for the passengers. We gathered up our things, packed our bags and began the “bag drag” between what seemed like the two farthest points of the airport. Of course, nothing could possibly go as planned on this infernal trip, so when we arrived at our new gate, we were informed that the jet would not arrive until just before scheduled departure time. We just couldn’t win.

We pushed back from the gate 35 minutes behind schedule, taxied away from the gate and contacted ground control at our assigned ramp exit spot. Ground informed us that there was a 20 minute ATC delay due to traffic congestion in Houston and cleared us to a holding pad at the end of the runway. I must admit that I was becoming a bit numb to delays at this point. We waited out the delay and were finally cleared for takeoff on runway 17R for the last two legs of the sequence. Climbing through 10,000 ft, I accelerated to 330 knots in an attempt to make up a little time. Unfortunately, ATC had other plans and instructed us to slow back to 250 knots. I wish I had had my camera handy to document our climb rate as I pitched the nose skyward to bleed off all that extra speed. We were at 330 knots, climbing through 21,000 feet with a clearance to 29,000 feet when we got the instruction to slow. With the nose nearly 20 degrees up, the VSI indicated a climb rate of 6,000 feet per minute as we traded speed for altitude. Regrettably, the reduced speed wasn’t creating enough space for the controller’s needs, so we received multiple vectors off course before finally being cleared back to a point on the Houston arrival.

Our ground time in Houston was short and mercifully uneventful and before we knew it we were in the air again on the “go home” leg. Somehow, after all the events of the previous 38 hours, we managed to block in only 10 minutes late and I walked in the back door of my house within 5 minutes of the time I had given my wife before I left. What an amazing two days…eight legs, twenty one hours on duty and fourteen hours of flight time.

A friend of mine commented that “any vacation induced rust had been cleaned away after this trip.” I think that was an understatement. One month off followed quickly by bad weather, maintenance and equipment challenges, passenger issues and a near miss on top of the normal challenges of this job was enough to get me right back into the swing of things. Here’s to hoping I’ve got all that negativity out of my system. Cheers.

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Vacation!

Ok, ok...I haven't posted anything in a couple weeks now.  Truth is, I've been  on a much needed vacation and just haven't made time for writing.  Also, I usually write when I'm on layovers and...well...I haven't had one of those in a while.  Not to worry, my glorious step away from aviation (forgive me for putting it that way) will end this Friday and life will return to normal for me and my escapades around the country.

(The view from my parents back porch where I spent as much of my vacation as humanly possible.)

Vacation at the airlines looks better on a pilot's schedule than it looks in the contract.  What I mean by that is this...with over 11 years at a major airline I still only receive three weeks of vacation every year.  Keep in mind that I work almost every major holiday and most weekends as well.  I get my December schedule later today and I fully expect this to be yet another in a long line of Christmas days spent at the hotel bar.  One year in particular, I spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, my wedding anniversary and New Year's Eve at the Courtyard Marriott Hotel at the New York Laguardia airport.  The bar tender and I were on a first name basis by the time it was all over.  However, creative bidding allows me to stretch my three weeks into much more.  For instance, I took two weeks of vacation in the second and third weeks of November this year.  I also bid a line in October that had the last 6 days of the month off...then bid a line in November that had the first week of the month off and another 4 days off after the end of my vacation.  Long story short, by the time I go back to work this weekend, I will have been away from work for a full month.  Not bad for a two week vacation.

Anyway, my hectic life will get back to normal this weekend and I'll start writing again.  Until then, below are a couple of humorous emails I got from a friend this week entitled "Things Pilots Say" and "Airline Logbook Entries."  They aren't anything new, but they're both funny and supposedly true.  Enjoy.

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 Things Pilots Say

A check ride ought to be like a skirt.
Short enough to be interesting, but long enough to cover everything.

Speed is life.  Altitude is life insurance.

It only takes two things to fly:
Airspeed, and money.

The three most dangerous things in aviation:
1. A Doctor or Dentist in a Cessna.
2. Two captains in a DC-9.

Aircraft Identification:
If it's ugly, it's British.
If it's weird, it's French.
If it's ugly and weird, it's Russian.

Without ammunition, the USAF would be just another very expensive flying club.

The similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots?
If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies.
If ATC screws up, the pilot dies.

The difference between flight attendants and jet engines:
The engines usually quit whining when they get to the gate.

New FAA motto:
'We're not happy, till you're not happy.'

If Air Traffic Control screws up, it's called a "System Malfunction",
If a pilot screws up it's called a "violation".

If something hasn't broken on your helicopter--it's about to.

I give that landing a 9 ................. on the Richter scale.

Basic Flying Rules:
1. Try to stay in the middle of the air.
2. Do not go near the edges of it.
3. The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees and interstellar space.  It is much more difficult to fly in the edges.

Unknown landing signal officer (LSO) to carrier pilot after his 6th unsuccessful landing attempt:
"You've got to land here son.  ..................... this is where the food is."
 
The three best things in life are:
A good landing, a good orgasm, and a good bowel movement.
A night carrier landing is one of the few opportunities to experience all three at the same time.

Things that are worthless to a pilot:
1. Runway behind you.
2. Altitude above you.
3. Airspeed you don't have.
4. Gas in the gas truck.

"The only time you can have too much gas is when you're on fire."

"Only touch the shiny switches--it means someone's touched them recently and it's probably okay."

And the Big Three:
1. Don't fly at night.
2. Don't fly in the weather.
3. Don't f#%& with the red-guarded switches.

On pre-flighting: remember you don't want to buy the damn thing, you only want to use it for a little while.

If it ain't leaking, it's empty.

Boeing multi-use switch philosophy:

Up is On
Down is Off
Twist to Dim
Press to Test
Jerk to Inflate

Three things you don't want to hear in the cockpit

CA: Watch this!
FO: I got a good idea.
FE: Oh shit!

Keep thine airspeed up,
lest the earth rise up and smite thee

I'll believe it when I'm sitting in it AND getting paid.

When it all starts falling apart............fly the biggest piece safely down.

" A good Captain and First Officer go hand in hand..... but not through the airport terminal."
Stolen from Len Morgan

Take offs are optional.  Landings are mandatory.

See this line?

See all this here stuff on THIS side?

That's MINE!!

See all this here stuff over THERE on your side?

THAT'S MINE TOO!

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Airline Logbook Entries

Airline pilots use a logbook to report problems to ground repair crew.
Sometimes the ground crew are smartasses.

(P) = Pilot's entry
(E) = Engineer's entry


(P) Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
(E) Almost replaced left inside main tire.

(P) Test flight OK, except autoland very rough.
(E) Autoland not installed on this aircraft.

(P) # 2 propeller seeping prop fluid.
(E) # 2 propeller seepage normal.
(P) # 1, # 3, and # 4 propellers lack normal seepage.

(P) Something loose in cockpit.
(E) Something tightened in cockpit.

(P) Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
(E) Evidence removed.

(P) DME volume unbelievably loud.
(E) Volume set to more believable level.

(P) Dead bugs on windshield.
(E) Live bugs on order.

(P) Autopilot in altitude hold mode produces a 200 fpm descent.
(E) Cannot reproduce problems on ground.

(P) IFF inoperative.
(E) IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

(P) Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
(E) That's what they're there for.

(P) Number three engine missing.
(E) Engine found on right wing after brief search.

(P) Aircraft handles funny.
(E) Aircraft warned to straighten up, "fly right," and be serious.

(P) Target Radar hums.
(E) Reprogrammed Target Radar with the words.

(P) Pilot's clock inop.
(E) Wound pilots clock.

(P) Autopilot tends to drop a wing when fuel imbalance reaches 500lbs.
(E) Flight manual limits maximum fuel imbalance to 300lbs.

(P) - Suspected crack in windscreen.
(E) - Suspect you're right.

(P) - Mouse in cockpit.
(E) - Cat installed.

(P) - Ghostly creaking from airstairs
(E) - Airstairs lubricated and exorcised.

(P) - The autopilot doesn't.
(E) - IT DOES NOW.

(P) - Seat cushion in 13F smells rotten.
(E) - Fresh seat cushion on order.

(P) - Turn & slip indicator ball stuck in center during turns.
(E) - Congratulations. You just made your first coordinated turn!

(P) - Whining sound heard on engine shutdown.
(E) - Pilot removed from aircraft.

(P) - #2 ADF needle runs wild.
(E) - Caught and tamed #2 ADF needle.

(P) - Unfamiliar noise coming from #2 engine.
(E) - Engine run for four hours. Noise now familiar.

(P) - Noise coming from #2 engine. Sounds like man with little hammer.
(E) - Took little hammer away from man in #2 engine.

(P) - Whining noise coming from #2 engine compartment.
(E) - Returned little hammer to man in #2 engine.

(P) - Flight attendant cold at altitude.
(E) - Ground checks OK.

(P) - 3 roaches in cabin.
(E) - 1 roach killed, 1 wounded, 1 got away.

(P) - Weather radar went ape!
(E) - Opened radar, let out ape, cleaned up mess!

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I hope you enjoyed that.  Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

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