I've told this story time after time so I thought I better get it down on record just for the heck of it.
When you get a pilot's license, part of the requirements are three solo-cross country flights. At least, they were required when I got my license, way back when. Anyway, I had a little trouble on two of them. Here is my story.
I believe this was my second solo cross country. It was supposed to be from Fayetteville, Arkansas to Joplin, Missouri, and back to Fayetteville. Well, I never made it to Joplin. I took off in Cessna 16U sometime in 1992 I guess. Had my flight planned plotted out and filed with the FAA Flight Service Station, did my preflight inspection and all of that other stuff that I barely remember these days and I was ready to go.
No worries about the fact that only one of the radios was working in the plane because one had been taken out for repair. No problem.
Well, there I go. Cessna 16u, runway 3 4, cleared for take off. 16u. Depart North and head for Joplin. Everything is going smooth. Northwest Arkansas is beautiful. Trees, towns, hills, lakes. Beautiful. Well, passing over Rogers, Arkansas, I try and turn my radio to the next VOR or whatever navigation system I was using and low and behold, it won't work. How will I ever find Joplin, Missouri if I can't tune my radio in? Then I look out the window and I see an airport. Small, but definitely a runway. Unfortunately I'm flying at about 200o feet or so and need to get down to the ground. I turn my little airplane to the east and head for somewhere. I tune the radio in to some frequency, don't know where because now I think I'm pretty lost. I try to get closer to the ground but the airplane goes into the caution zone on the altitude gauge. Oh my God. Stay calm I tell myself. Level out those wings and descend at less of an angle.
I'm getting closer to the ground now. Thank God. But something stinks, bad. Could I have been so scarred that I had an accident in my pants? I hope not. Keep circling the airport, I'm almost ready to enter a left downwind now. Left base, Oh I see, a pig farm!! I didn't have an accident. Finally, 16u on short final to some airport. Airplane lands, thank God I'm on the ground now. Taxi to the little buildings. Get out of the airplane and head into the FBO. What do I find on a Sunday morning at some little airport somewhere near Northwest Arkansas? A bunch of old male pilots drinking coffee. So in walks me, a cute, slender, 25 year old young lady and I say: "Where am I?" The men are a little baffled and one replies "You are in Neosho, Missouri". "Neosho?, I'm supposed to be in Joplin, but the radio quit working." "Well, Joplin is just up the road, ma'am, you could have just followed the highway."
"Is there a pay phone around here?" I ask. "On the wall." replies the older man. I call up Clayton. "Clayton, this airplane is broken." "What's wrong?" he asks. "The radio has quit working and I had to land in Neosho!" "You could have followed the road to get to Joplin." He says. "I'm lost now and you need to come and get me because I can't find my way back to Fayetteville."
"Charlene", he says, "Can you please get in the airplane and fly home?" "Okay, I said, but I'm mad and I hope I don't get lost."
So there I go, back to Fayetteville. I pass Rogers, Bentonville, Springdale, and finally I see Fayetteville. Cessna 16u cleared to land, runway 16. 16u.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
My Crazy Co-Workers
When you work at the same place, with the same people, year after year, it's like having another family. Some of your proudest moments and some of your worst moments are here. Sometimes it feels like you spend more time with your "work" family then you do with your "home" family. We keep doing it so it must be okay. So to all my work family who reads these posts, enjoy them, and if you ever need a welder, a horseback rider, or an airplane pilot, I'll give you the number of some good ones.
HI CHARLENE -the bamf-
HI CHARLENE -the bamf-
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Yes, I was an Air Traffic Controller.
It was 1989. Six years after high school and one semester to go to graduate from UTEP with a Bachelor's of Business Administration. There was a job fair at UTEP and representatives from the Federal Aviation Administration were there. They were trying to recruit Air Traffic Controllers. I figured I knew all about that.
Earlier that year, on a flight from El Paso to Boston, I was wearing a pink and white striped dress, and the crew of the flight needed another seat in coach so I was bumped into first class. Back then you could tune into the channel where you could hear the pilots talking to the Air Traffic Controllers. I listened in all the way from El Paso to Boston as I followed our flight on a map of the United States that was printed out on a cocktail napkin. Cool stuff, huh? Besides that, I figured I knew all about Air Traffic Control. After all, Ronald Regan fired many of the ATC folks for going on strike. I even met someone who used to do it until he got fired.
Then of course, there was my experience as a pilot. Harry Chapman took me up in his little Cessna 152 when I was about ten years old and I even flew it. I remember his instructions perfectly: "Just follow the rail road tracks." That was in Michigan. We flew from Lansing to Alma and back again. That little trip changed my life. I knew back then that I wanted to fly an airplane. And then working for the F.F.A. would certainly make things easier. I'd be around pilots and I'd be able to get a pilot's license. Great Plan!!
So there I go. Filled out the job application. Bought the Air Traffic Controller's study guide. I think the publisher was ARCO. I worked all the problems in that book a couple of times over and then went to take the test. Of coarse, I put down that I was female and hispanic hoping that would get me a couple of extra points.
You know that out of 200 people who took the exam that day the FAA only took two of us? yep! Me and Vanessa Poole, an african american female. And on January 8, 1990, I reported to the Mike Monroney Aeronautical Center In Oklahoma City, OK! It was a very stressful coarse of about three months, but can you believe they paid us for it? I think I was a GS 7 or 8 or something like that. Didn't matter, it was the best paying job I ever had!! And I didn't even need a degree!! (Good thing I had one though).
Here comes the not so glorious part of my short ATC career. I passed the first three months. That in itself was quite an accomplishment because only about 60% of the people who start actually do pass. A lot drop out for personal reasons (then they are still qualified to do it again and actually have an advantage the next time, and some just fail). Again, I passed, but barely. I think I passed with a 71%, the lowest passing grade was a 70%. Only one other person had a lower score than me. I guess it didn't bother me too much, I was young and dumb as they say.
The people that passed with the highest grades automatically were assigned to work in the centers. Those are those dark room with a radar scope in front of you. I think I would actually have done much better there. The lower grades were assigned to the towers. They gave me two choices: Downtown Shreveport, LA, or Fayetteville, AR. Like a dummy I said: "Send me to the one where I'll get the most experience." Okay, Fayetteville, AR, is a non-radar approach control, you'll get a lot of experience there. So I accepted, and was off to start my new career! What a blast that was.
So most of you who know me know that was a short-lived phase of my life. After about a year of on the job training, I was removed from training. After you get removed from training there is nothing left except for you to find another job. Sad, sad, sad. I did pass some of the training but the local control was kind of hard. I could never ask all of the questions at the same time: Like speed, altitude, direction, type of aircraft, destination, etc. I would just get to nervous thinking that I had to do it perfectly every time. Then I second guessed myself with my poor vision. It was corrected to 20/20 but I still had my doubts.
There were a couple of funny stories, not so funny at the time, while I was working. Once I called a biplane a double winger. Too nervous to think of the word biplane. Lost points for that. Once I put a big fast jet liner to land behind a little slow Cessna 150 and the pilot said I was dumb and buzzed the tower. Lost points again. But the one that really was bad was right after a terrible crash in Los Angeles. In LA the controller put an aircraft on the runway at an intersection in the dark, and told him to hold. Then the controller cleared another plane to land on that same runway. There was a terrible crash and lots of people died. Well, the very next day the FAA put out a directive to controllers saying that you were no longer able to put an aircraft on the runway at a intersection at night and tell them to hold their position. So what do I do? Yep. I remember it clearly. "Citation 700TF, Intersection Charlie Departure approved, taxi into position and hold." Yep, it was at night. I got unplugged. Of coarse I was in training so the controller in charge took over and said "Disregard, Tango Foxtrot, you are cleared for take off at intersection Charlie." So nobody got hurt, but I was just about out of a job.
I tried to fight thee removal from training through the union, and with a lawyer. There were reasons I felt it was unfair at the time. I was the only one there who didn't have prior experience. I felt that those controllers had an advantage when they started because they had prior experience. Well, finally, the lawyer told me, I could spend a bunch of money, and let my fate ride in the minds of a jury, or I could just get on with my life. So that's what I did. I pursued a career in banking since that was what my degree was in, and put the Air Traffic Control job at my 6 o'clock position and moved forward.
Earlier that year, on a flight from El Paso to Boston, I was wearing a pink and white striped dress, and the crew of the flight needed another seat in coach so I was bumped into first class. Back then you could tune into the channel where you could hear the pilots talking to the Air Traffic Controllers. I listened in all the way from El Paso to Boston as I followed our flight on a map of the United States that was printed out on a cocktail napkin. Cool stuff, huh? Besides that, I figured I knew all about Air Traffic Control. After all, Ronald Regan fired many of the ATC folks for going on strike. I even met someone who used to do it until he got fired.
Then of course, there was my experience as a pilot. Harry Chapman took me up in his little Cessna 152 when I was about ten years old and I even flew it. I remember his instructions perfectly: "Just follow the rail road tracks." That was in Michigan. We flew from Lansing to Alma and back again. That little trip changed my life. I knew back then that I wanted to fly an airplane. And then working for the F.F.A. would certainly make things easier. I'd be around pilots and I'd be able to get a pilot's license. Great Plan!!
So there I go. Filled out the job application. Bought the Air Traffic Controller's study guide. I think the publisher was ARCO. I worked all the problems in that book a couple of times over and then went to take the test. Of coarse, I put down that I was female and hispanic hoping that would get me a couple of extra points.
You know that out of 200 people who took the exam that day the FAA only took two of us? yep! Me and Vanessa Poole, an african american female. And on January 8, 1990, I reported to the Mike Monroney Aeronautical Center In Oklahoma City, OK! It was a very stressful coarse of about three months, but can you believe they paid us for it? I think I was a GS 7 or 8 or something like that. Didn't matter, it was the best paying job I ever had!! And I didn't even need a degree!! (Good thing I had one though).
Here comes the not so glorious part of my short ATC career. I passed the first three months. That in itself was quite an accomplishment because only about 60% of the people who start actually do pass. A lot drop out for personal reasons (then they are still qualified to do it again and actually have an advantage the next time, and some just fail). Again, I passed, but barely. I think I passed with a 71%, the lowest passing grade was a 70%. Only one other person had a lower score than me. I guess it didn't bother me too much, I was young and dumb as they say.
The people that passed with the highest grades automatically were assigned to work in the centers. Those are those dark room with a radar scope in front of you. I think I would actually have done much better there. The lower grades were assigned to the towers. They gave me two choices: Downtown Shreveport, LA, or Fayetteville, AR. Like a dummy I said: "Send me to the one where I'll get the most experience." Okay, Fayetteville, AR, is a non-radar approach control, you'll get a lot of experience there. So I accepted, and was off to start my new career! What a blast that was.
So most of you who know me know that was a short-lived phase of my life. After about a year of on the job training, I was removed from training. After you get removed from training there is nothing left except for you to find another job. Sad, sad, sad. I did pass some of the training but the local control was kind of hard. I could never ask all of the questions at the same time: Like speed, altitude, direction, type of aircraft, destination, etc. I would just get to nervous thinking that I had to do it perfectly every time. Then I second guessed myself with my poor vision. It was corrected to 20/20 but I still had my doubts.
There were a couple of funny stories, not so funny at the time, while I was working. Once I called a biplane a double winger. Too nervous to think of the word biplane. Lost points for that. Once I put a big fast jet liner to land behind a little slow Cessna 150 and the pilot said I was dumb and buzzed the tower. Lost points again. But the one that really was bad was right after a terrible crash in Los Angeles. In LA the controller put an aircraft on the runway at an intersection in the dark, and told him to hold. Then the controller cleared another plane to land on that same runway. There was a terrible crash and lots of people died. Well, the very next day the FAA put out a directive to controllers saying that you were no longer able to put an aircraft on the runway at a intersection at night and tell them to hold their position. So what do I do? Yep. I remember it clearly. "Citation 700TF, Intersection Charlie Departure approved, taxi into position and hold." Yep, it was at night. I got unplugged. Of coarse I was in training so the controller in charge took over and said "Disregard, Tango Foxtrot, you are cleared for take off at intersection Charlie." So nobody got hurt, but I was just about out of a job.
I tried to fight thee removal from training through the union, and with a lawyer. There were reasons I felt it was unfair at the time. I was the only one there who didn't have prior experience. I felt that those controllers had an advantage when they started because they had prior experience. Well, finally, the lawyer told me, I could spend a bunch of money, and let my fate ride in the minds of a jury, or I could just get on with my life. So that's what I did. I pursued a career in banking since that was what my degree was in, and put the Air Traffic Control job at my 6 o'clock position and moved forward.
This is for my kids, mostly.
Being a single mom and supporting three kids, I tend to worry about the welfare of my children. If anything happens to me, then what will become of them? It's called Mommy thinking. Today they are 14, 12, and 8. They have a father and I'm sure he would take them. We are divorced for a reason. He is not a nice person. I'm hoping the stories I write here, will get to my kids someday. Through these stories they will know about my life and how much I love every single solitary minute of it. Life is a gift. Every breath we take is a miracle and we have God to thank for that. Through my stories I hope they can understand that life has so much to offer. This I hope will get them through the hard times.
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