Henri aces his first LOFT!

[182driver]

How are you Chappies?

I have been fairly busy ironing out some kinks and wrinkles in the ol' training file that have cropped up over the years, and am happy to report I am finally off my 5 year probation! With this great honour comes great responsibility, boys: I am onto some serious training now--the LOFT. For you greenbacks out there unfamiliar with how it works up here in the show, we alternate our flight training every 6 months doing a PPC ride every other training event alternating with a Line Oriented Flight Training session. From my intel, I've learned this is a super-realistic session where you do what looks like a regular flight from A to B entirely in the simulator. Except it is nothing even close to regular ops, gents. Shit gets real right from engaging the starter as the evil instructor does his best to bring us down in digital flames. Not on my watch, chaps.

My session was scheduled to begin at 10:00 sharp, so naturally I wanted to keep as close to the time-proven preflight routine as possible. On the morning in question I rose like a primal caveman without the aid of an alarm as I shot off my futon at 0900. The mullet was pointing in all cardinal directions, and needed to be tamed--a 30 minute shower and handfuls of gel made short work of that labor of love! A quick circuit of push-ups, deep knee bends and hip thrusts got the Testosterone levels soaring as Mr Stitches nodded in time to the AC/DC backbeat workout soundtrack. We purused the funnies together over a cup of Joe, roaring with laughter at the antics of Garfield. That John--what a wanker!

The uniform pieces snapped into place as I got my game face on. The 'Camino was purring like a pregnant rhino a few minutes later as I enthusiastically chomped on an apple fritter. I buried the pedal and vanished in a haze of smoke, much to the adoration of my busty neighbour, the Good-Widow McPhilips. She threw down her rake to admire my precision departure, shaking her fist in a friendly act of well-wishery. Bon-Voyage, Henri!

The Camino entered the sim building parking lot at a 60 degree angle amidst a volley of screeching tires as my perfectly executed tail slide shaved critical seconds from my commute. Don't slow down if you don't have to, blokes. On time performance is the name of the game. I broke the mouth-toothpick clean in half out of excitement as I saw a Costanza-worthy parking spot open near the front door, and pushed the speedometer needle over 70 as I made my move. An opposite direction Prius made a feeble gambit for the same gap but failed miserably, ghosting on past, silent and miserable.

It's hard not to swagger a bit as you walk into a sim building in the 'bigs, and I did just that, chaps. Having said that, with each return swing of my hips, a bit of pent up anxiety released itself into the stale simulated air, which soon turned the waiting area into a bit of an unpleasant place to be. The Granny Smith apples wilted to brown as the secretary-lady wrinkled her nose with displeasure. Suck it up, princess! How do you think I feel?

I sauntered off as casually as I could to the briefing room, nonchalantly grabbing a destroyed apple for break time. Always plan ahead, boys.

I strolled in and stuck my hand out to one of the other aviation pros waiting for me in the classroom. One of them was mid sentence at the time, so I just stood there waiting with my outstretched hand, nodding and smiling at all the technical posters adjourning the walls. Chicks would be super impressed if they could catch a glimpse behind the scenes! After a few minutes, a sweaty hand grabbed mine and I gagged audibly, wiping my hand furiously on my pants as the mullet bucked with rage. Gross!

"You must be Henri. Um, we just finished up our briefing here. You need to check your schedule for the proper check-in time I think." I looked at my new Blue Angels wrist watch, but there were so many hands on it going round and round I got task-saturated! No! This could not be happening! I closed my eyes and tried to recall my CRM training. It slowly came back to me what I was supposed to do--lean on my winger. My right eye flew open, locking on with the hapless Left Seat Warmer who was sitting in the other chair. He jumped in surprise. The replacement toothpick rose up like a conductors wand as I asked him through gritted teeth what the current time was.

"11:15".

Curse Garfield! His comedic antics were too much for my time management skills on this day, chaps! Momentarily defeated, I dropped to one knee, bulging my quad impressively before rapidly composing myself.

"We need to move on!" I screamed, balling my fists before bouncing up into a mid-air 180, landing in mid-stride towards the door. "Last one into the sim is a rotten egg!" I called over my shoulder as I spooled up to full sprinting speed. They didn't have a chance.

I was already done half of my Sudoku before the two lolly-gaggers climbed into the sim with me. I learned my wingers name was Terry, and the instructor was Gerry. I ribbed them about this without mercy for about 10 minutes, building that solid rapport that any professional crew thrives on. Gerry complained to Terry about how the apples tasted like shit, and hurled one almost uneaten into the simulated garbage. What a waste of produce, I thought.

Gerry pushed some buttons and the mighty -8 sim staggered off its hydraulic mounts into full motion. The first few minutes are the worst for me, blokes. I vomited fiercely for about 3 minutes before settling in. Wemacs full open, no worries!

That personal embarrassment well behind us now, it was time to push back. I stared out with fascination at the simulated world Gerry had created for us. A fuel truck floated by, and a massive computer generated 747 was visible a few gates down. Fake little snow flakes fluttered onto the non-existent wings as a binary tug rolled us steadily backwards. I burped a bit more of my nausea away and then launched into full super FO mode, my hands a blur of activity as I responded to Terry's commands well before he even thought of issuing them. Just part of the service. Pas de probleme, mon petit ami!

As we taxied out, I was a basket of nerves, like a finely coiled spring. I knew Gerry was lurking back there in the darkness like a Demi-God with a screenful of potential disasters, and he was plotting to unleash them at any moment. Terry was onto him as well, and played it super cool. He hid his nervousness perfectly, distracting him with idle chitchat and laughter on the taxi out, leaving me to patrol the doomed simulated flight deck relentlessly looking for the fault aimed squarely at us. I sat up like a meerkat, my head swivelling constantly as my neck muscles fatigued rapidly from the exertion. As the sweaty seconds ticked away, my fear-fumes slowly pushed the air quality down to Mars-like levels.

And then, as we turned left onto the runway for takeoff, it finally happened. The visuals flickered briefly as we took position. "There!" I yelled victoriously. "There it is!" Terry interrupted his knock-knock joke and snapped to attention. "What? What is it?"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the cockpit lights blinked on and off momentarily.

Electrical problem!

Gerry tried to stammer out an explanation, but the jig was up! "Ah guys, that's just a sim thing, don't worry about that..."

I threw my head back and laughed at his deception. The mullet bounced and shook as I smoothly took control of the situation. In a whirlwind, virtual ATC was made aware we had just sustained a massive electrical surge. Naturally we would be concerned about the ensuing fire and I demanded the emergency vehicles through the muffled mic of my Oxygen mask. I sounded like an F-18 pilot on the PA as I told our digital guests to sit tight while we ensured their safety.

Poor Terry just sat there stunned, completely overloaded with the enormity of the situation. Incapacitated. Without hesitation I ignored the lying pleas of Gerry as I played the part of a simulated hero, scooping my hapless Skipper out of his seat and fireman-carrying him out the door and onto the balcony of the sim. I blinked away the fluorescent lighting of the sim bay as we swung to safety using the escape rope, narrowly missing the same cursed electrical cables that caused this whole simulated ordeal.

Once safely down I told Skippy to wait in the corner as I perfectly replicated running for help. I last heard him yell: "nobody puts Terry in the corner!" as I powered away under full steam, my knees pumping high as I chanted my internal mantra: Outwit. Outplay. Survive.

Outside the sim building, I stopped my impressive dash and bent over to catch my breath. My massive chest heaved in gulps of air as I recounted our close call. It had all gone so well I saw no need for the debrief, and hopped into the 'Camino conveniently parked near the emergency exit. It was still warm from my morning commuting efforts and started on the first try. Gerry and Terry could learn a lot from my quick thinking, and I looked forward to hearing their accolades. "Sim thing" my ass! I snorted in disbelief and shook my head. Beautiful flaxen gold filled the rear view mirror like a sunrise.

My phone was ringing now. Crew Training wanted the deets. Probably a training video request. I squinted and hovered my muscular thumb over the display, contemplating whether or not to answer.

I punched the red "hang up" icon. Negative. Call 'em later. I'll go easy on old Gerry-Terry when asked. We all make mistakes.

My attention now swung to more important matters, and I punched Ms. McPhilips's digits enthusiastically into the keypad. After cheating my simulated fate, a night out with the Good-Widow would be just what the doctor ordered! Grinning widely, I threw the Camino into Reverse and buried the pedal, waving to the secretary-lady with the Febreeze bottle two floors above.

Till next time, blokes!

[Big Pistons Forever]

Welcome back Henri !

Anybody know the best way to how to get spit up beer and Nancho chips off the computer screen and keyboard

[wowie_kazowie]

YES! Henri is back!

[Hoov]

YES! Henri is back!

+1

[hazatude]

Henri's mullet was back seven years ago. Where were you guys?

[7ECA]

Hell yeah, he's back!

[PositiveRate27]

[flyinthebug]

You DA man Henri!!! Keep em coming!

[BTD]

Need a Kleenex to wipe the tears away.

[Driving Rain]

[Taxivasion]

I want Henri to teach me how to ride a bike.

Welcome back!

[Meatservo]

Pure comedy GOLD. These posts need to be compiled into a book, or better yet, an animated series.

[Gear Jerker]

Wow, absolutely brilliant. + Eleventy nine kajillion

[tractor driver]

Rivals the great Ace McCool.
Well done!

[Flyboy757]

Speaking of Ace McCool....was there ever a book written of his "adventures" ?

[Siddley Hawker]

Welcome back Henri!!

[tractor driver]

Yes, I have a couple of Ace McCool's books. I look forward to placing the adventures of "Hurricane"? Henri" beside them on the shelf.

g

[seniorpumpkin]

Shouldn't this be in the flight training forum to help show all those newbies how to properly handle their first LOFT?

[sportingrifle]

Henri......The new CPA has a flow thru clause! Are you gonna do it?

At least go for the interview.

[x15]