This Is Not An Original Work

Saw this in a newsletter here at school...

One fine hot summer's afternoon I saw a Piper Cub flying in the pattern at a quiet country airfield. The CFI was getting bothered with the student's inability to maintain altitude in the thermals and was getting impatient at sometimes having to take over the controls. Just then he saw a twin engine Cessna 5,000 feet above him and thought, "Another 1,000 hours of this and I qualify for that twin charter job! Aahh, to be a real pilot...going somewhere!"

The Cessna 402 was already late, and the boss told him this charter was for one of the company's premier clients. He'd already set MCT and the cylinders tidn't like it in the heat of this summer's day. He was at 6,000 feet and the winds were now a 20-knot headwind. Today was the sixth day straight, and he was pretty tired of fighting these engines. Maybe if he got 10,000 feet out of them the wind might die off. Geez, those cylinder temps! He looked out momentarily and saw a B737 leaving a contrail at 33,000 feet in the serene blue sky. "oh man," he thought. "My interview is next month. I hope I just don't blow it! Outta G/A, nice jet job, above the weather...no snotty passengers to wait for...aahh."

The Boeing 737 bucked and weaved in the heavy CAT at FL330 and ATC advised that lower levels were not available due to traffic. The Captain, who was only recently advised that his destination was below RVR minimums, had slowed to LRC to try and hold off a possible in-flight diversion and arrange an ETA that would hopefully ensure the fog had lifted to CATII minimums. The Company negotiations broke down yesterday and it looked as if everyone was going to take a pay cut. The F/O's will be particularly hard hit as their pay wasn't anything to speak of anyway.

Finally deciding on a speed compromise between LRC and turbulence penetration, the Captain now looked up and saw a Concorde at Mach 2+. Tapping his F/O's shoulder as the 737 took another bashing, he said "Now THAT'S what we should be on...huge pay...super fast...not too many routes...not too many legs...above the CAT! Yup, what a life!"

FL590 was not what he wanted anyways and considered FL570. Already the TAT was creeping up again and either they would have to descend or slow down. That rear fuel transfer pump was becoiming unreliable and the F/E had said moments ago that the radiation meter was not reading numbers that he'd like to see. The Concorde descended to FL570, but the radiation was still quite high even though the NOTAM indicated hunky dory below FL610. Flue Flow was up and the transfer pump was intermittent. Evening turned into night as they passed over the Atlantic. Looking up, the F/O could see a tiny white dot moving against the backdrop of a myriad of stars. "Hey Captain," he called as he pointed. "Must be the Shuttle."

The Captain looked up for a moment and agreed. Quietly he thought how a Shuttle mission, while complicated, must be the be-all and end-all in aviation. Above the crap, no radiation problems, no damn fuel transfer problems. "Aahh, must be a great way to earn a buck."

Discovery was into it's 27th orbit and perigee was out from nominated rendezvous altitude with the commsat. The robot arm was virtually U/S and a walk may become necessary. The 200 foot predicted error would necessitate a corrective burn and Discovery would need that fuel if a walk was to be required.

Houston continually asked what the Commander wanted to do, but the advice they proffered wasn't much help. The Commander had already been 12 hours on station sorting out the problem and just wanted 10 minutes to himself for a bathroom break. Just then a mission specialist, who had tilted the telescope down to the surface for a minute or two, called the Commander to the scope. "Have a look at this, Sir. Isn't this the kind of flying you said you wanted to do after you finish up with NASA?"

The Commander peered through the telescope and cried, "Oooh, yeah! Now THAT'S flying! Man, that's what it's all about! Geez, I'd give my left leg just to be doing THAT down there!"

What the Discovery Commander was looking at was a yellow Cub in a pattern at a quiet country airfield on a nice bright sunny afternoon.

TRH