Punch out at 1845. Hustle from Terminal A to the Main Terminal and out through baggage claim. Jump on an employee bus for the ride to the North Lot. Sprint to my airport car, jump in and drive the 10 minute journey back to the crashpad. 1905, stuff my rollerboard collect my gear and race it out to the car reverse course. Wait for bus and climb in at 1922. Cruise through security at 1930 and ride the tram back to my departure gate by 1935 just in time to board the 2000 flight home. Whew!

Worn out cogs and rollers or a SNAFU with the paper tray, my briefing packet held a blank page sandwiched in amongst the other sheets with the data. I rifle through them as I advise my crew of the pertinent particulars until I reach the blank. With a perplexed look, I slide it out and wonder out loud if there was supposed to be something important printed there. Their minds race for few seconds but get traction when they figure out that I’m just messin’.

She apologized profusely, profoundly embarrassed. Stale pot of coffee in one hand, with the intention of disposing down the lav, the FA swung the door wide to expose one of our pax relieving himself. I told her such an event has happened at least once to nearly (all newbies) everyone. She won’t visit the “aft cabin” now without an instant replay in her head, I’ll bet.

I’ve cracked the books to learn the following new values:
167,329
166,447
137,787
128,969
Rote memorization. These mangled numbers are max weights for zero fuel, landing, takeoff and, ramp. Too bad we are not on the same page as the Europeans. These weights were nice (easy) round numbers at the Hamburg DaimlerChrysler Aerospace plant with Airbus using kilograms. Onward and upward: max certificated cruising altitude – 39,100 feet – wingspan 111 feet 10 inches…

We launched our pax OT for ATL. Hovering near by – menacing TS Jeanne. Enroute the Wx deteriorated with winds setting up for an 80 degree crosswind the strength of which exceeded aircraft design certification limitations. Electing not to put man and machine in harms way we diverted to Knoxville TN to wait it out. Given the difficult circumstances of the extended ordeal and even after a false re-start and return to the gate, everyone remained patient. Seven hours delayed we arrived in ATL. Same day service.

iAir’s *first* Airbus A-319 which is scheduled to be delivered in September. This is a spy photo at the factory in Germany.

Poor Sap. Lost his cool for a second and now look.

The Captain’s PA’s got my attention. You judge the maturity, professionalism, and quality of the crew based on these snippets of speech and his announcement was a looooong John Wayne western cowboy whiskey drawl. “Hope your enjoyin’ the fast ride to Raleigh” Is he sober? Remember Foster Brooks? I looked up from my Smithsonian Magazine to the Flight Attendant for assurance expecting to see a sneer on her face. (the FA, if having flown with such a character for any length, has heard such jokes and schtick so many time that you can read the pain in their expression) But they were serving without so much as a grimace. “The seat belt sign is off now… but keep your belt fastened — just in case — anyway –.” I realized that this was his actual style and not an impersonation. I returned to my reading amused and feeling safe(r).

Like a dairy cow in the milking barn. After awhile it becomes routine and one knows what happens, what comes next and what to do. The nurse knows me as does the examiner as does their office manager. I walk through the inner office door. They hand me the cup. I know where to leave it. I head for the weigh in scale and even slide the weights without prompt. Next is the eye test machine. Squint. Then the interview and exam and finally an EKG and then checkout payment. Text book. Every 6 months. A well known drill by now.