I was all set to fly to Narita (Tokyo’s International airport that is weirdly nowhere near Tokyo) when the chance to fly a military charter from SFO to Frankfurt in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom opened up. Not only was the trip the same amount of days (3), I’d make more money, would get to fly an airplane load of good-looking Marines, and I’d get to deadhead home (fly as a passenger as opposed to flying the plane). So I traded away my Japan trip.
But no Marines in sight. The airplane we flew over was totally empty! I tell you, it’s almost a little creepy flying a huge 747 with only 7 people inside. Don’t get to see it very often. It must have cost buckets of money to fly an empty 747 all the way from San Fran to Frankfurt (it was going on from Frankfurt with a new crew, also empty, to Kuwait) but the government was paying for it…
I took a pic stranding in the very back and aiming toward the nose.
The front of the plane is soooo distant, it almost fades away–lol:
There were no flight attendants on board, just a fueler and two mechanics, and they certainly weren’t going to cook meals or make us coffee so we did all that ourselves. It was kinda fun, brewing Starbucks in the galley and prepping our “TV dinner” meals by putting them in the ovens. We could leave the cockit whenever we wanted! We could get coffee whenever we wanted! And best of all? I could go potty whenever I needed to!
I think that’s been the most onerous change for us pilots, post-Osama, becoming virtual prisoners in the cockpit behind our barred and locked reinforced doors with lock-out features and a peephole. We can no longer simply pop out of the cockpit to go pee. I’ve heard some say that the incidence of bladder infections and kidney ailments in pilots has skyrocketed. On the 747, we can’t block the lavatories with a food cart, so we have to call a flight attendant–actually 2 FAs, one to stand guard in the cockpit and the other to guard the lav. The flight attendants are busy, so needless to say, it isn’t easy to do this. Calls to the cabin will often go something like this:
Pilot to FA: “Do you mind coming up, we have to use the lav.”
FA: “I’m in the middle of my service.”
Pilot: “But, I have to go.”
FA: (exasperated sigh) “Why didn’t you call twenty minutes ago?”
Pilot: (pressing thighs together and trying not to think of waterfalls) “Um, I didn’t have to go then…I have to go now.”
FA: “I’ll get up there when I can.”
It’s like being back in first grade and you wanted your parents to stop the car so you could go pee in the gas station.
Once we got to Frankfurt, I could have laid-over for 31 hours before heading home as a passenger in Business Class. But I just wanted to go home, so I got permission to forfeit the layover and head home right away, which meant getting right back on a flight to SFO. So 10 something hours over, and 11 something hours back, nearly 24 solid hours on a plane in the air. Granted, althoughI got a First Class seat on the way home, a delicious sleeper seat, wonderful food and wine, followed by my 3 hours car drive home, walking in the house only one day after I left, I was wiped out after spending almost a solid day traveling nearly non-stop. All I can say is: Don’t Try This At Home.
Next stop: Shanghai. I’ll report in next week with the latest in Chinese shopping bargains. (wink)
