Jumpseat

Photo taken by one of my cool sisters for their little brother.

Finding the inspiration to write can be like trying to find one of those agile mosquitoes in my house. One moment you’re getting bit - either by a mosquito, or the urge to write - and the next moment, both are gone, and nowhere to be found. That’s kind of the way I have been feeling this month as my blog-update deadline has approached. So I’m going to cheat and borrow some material from a moment of inspiration I had while working on another writing project recently. How shall we lead in? Let's try the classic introduction: A long time ago, in a land far away…

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 

“Mom, can I have some ‘sleeping medicine’?” I was begging. It was the night before our family’s annual leave trip and I just knew I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep that night without some extra help. After I persisted, she finally obliged and disappeared to get the coveted sleep aid. A few moments later she was back with a spoonful of mysterious but rather pleasant tasting granules sourced from a special, undisclosed supply. I gobbled it down and then lay in bed doing my best to think sleepy thoughts. Though I didn’t really remember getting drowsy, the stuff had the desired effect, because the next thing I knew, it was morning and time leave for the airport. Mom’s devious trick of feeding me a homemade placebo consisting mostly of sugar crystals had worked once again.

As our family drove to the Beirut International Airport through the predawn darkness, I was in high spirits, my face pressed up to the car window, eagerly waiting for my first glimpse of the planes. As we rounded a corner, I spotted them—the tall vertical stabilizers rising above the airport fence like the fins of some huge mythological creatures. My excitement doubled. Even as a six year-old I’d learned to recognize the paint schemes of my favorite airlines and I scanned the designs of the airplane tails as we passed them one by one: Cyprus Airways, KLM, Middle East Airlines, and of course, classic British Airways. That’s the one we’d be taking today.

Summer vacation was the highlight of each year. As General Conference missionaries, my parents were given annual leave and airfare to visit their respective European countries, in this case England and Holland. It was the time of year my sisters and I could experience the other half of our double lives, as we reconnected with grandparents, uncles and aunts, and cousins, and did all the things British and Dutch kids do—actually in our case, the things such kids who have Mauritian roots do.

But if living in the Middle East was being at home and going to Europe was “visiting home”, there was one more place that I felt just as at home at and that was in an airport, getting ready to get on an airplane. I relished every detail of the air travel experience and the memories of that distinct part of my life have been burned into my mind’s eye: standing in the check-in line while Dad collected all our passports to give to the agent, trying my best to see the intriguing X-ray monitor that was always turned just a little too much to the side for me to get a good look at, staring out the departure gate windows at the twinkling night-time airport lights and the bustling activity of ground vehicles going to and fro. And watching the planes.

I was crazy about planes and if there was one thing that was certain it was that when I grew up I was going to be a pilot. Yes, I was also going to be a scientist, a surgeon, an astronaut, and a few other things; but first and foremost, I wanted to be up in the cockpit of one of those sleek flying machines.  As it turned out, today I was going to get an early glimpse of that magical place.

After what seemed like an unbearable wait at the gate, the announcement finally came over the speakers that British Airways Flight 148 to London Heathrow was ready to board. We shuffled down the jet bridge toward the cabin door, the high whine of the APU filling the air and adding to my excitement of being back on a plane.

We found our row and as usual, and without question, my family gave me the window seat. I took in the view outside, the airport scene still twinkling but the sky above starting to turn a deep blue. A plane was taxiing slowly by, the passenger windows lighted up and its pulsing red beacon lights punctuating the dawning light.

The familiar bumps of the tug attaching to the nose wheel of our plane gave the clue that we were about to start pushing back from the gate. One of the stewardesses was working her way down the aisle checking seat belts and my heart rate quickened as I thought of something I was planning on asking her. Now wasn’t the right time, but I would give it a shot when we were in cruise.

I turned back to stare out the window in rapt attention and watch as we backed away from the terminal, paused, and then began the ponderous taxi to the runway. The aircraft turned, turned again, and then came to a momentary stop. After a pause the engines spooled up to partial thrust. Then the whine of the engines changed to a full roar and a thrill went through me as I was shoved back in my seat. I watched in wonder as the scenery sped by faster and faster until the view tilted and the ground smoothly fell away, buildings and features becoming tinier and tinier. That experience never got old.

Now I’ll admit that sitting up at cruise for several hours did get old pretty quickly, like it probably does for most people. And I didn't always get satisfactory answers to my queries about how long it was until we would be landing. Today I tried to see if Rachel had any idea.

"Just keep looking out the window and when you see the Eiffel Tower, then you'll know we're almost there," she smirked in reply. "The what-tower?" I began, quite unsatisfied with the flippant response.  But I trailed off as I spotted the pretty stewardess walking back down the aisle in our direction. That's right. I had something to ask her. I plucked up my courage and pressed the call button.

“Yes, love, how can I help you?” she stopped and asked in her English accent.
“I was wondering if you could give this picture to the pilot for me?” I asked earnestly, producing a detailed picture of a British Airways plane that I had spent hours drawing and coloring. A smile spread across her face.
“How would you like to give it to him yourself?” she asked.
My eyes widened and I instantly turned to look at Mom for approval. She was probably almost as surprised as I was, but was quick to nod her permission.
“Oh yes, please!” I stammered, my heart racing.
“Let me just check with the captain and then I’ll come back and get you, okay?”
She strode up to the forward galley and disappeared from view. A moment later she was back and motioning for me to follow.

We walked up the aisle, past the first-class passengers and to the very last thing you can normally see on a commercial flight: the gray, windowless door at the front of the cabin. The stewardess knocked on the door and poked her head inside. “Captain, your visitor is here.” She opened the door wider and ushered me in.

PC: https://www.aviation24.be/pictures/displayimage.php?pid=3623

I was awestruck as I slowly stepped into the cockpit. The place was roomy and sunny, much bigger than I'd imagined. Everything was distinctly light-gray colored, like the shade of an office cabinet and a row of colorful CRT displays adorned the instrument panel. And there, seated in front of me in their smart uniforms were the two pilots tending to some task. The man in the left seat turned around as I entered.

“Hello there young man!” the captain enthused. “Welcome to the cockpit. I’m Captain Williams and this is my copilot, First Officer Thompson,” he said, shaking my hand and introducing me to the man with the quiet smile in the right seat.

“This must be your first time to the cockpit?” Captain Williams asked as he saw me gazing about in fascination. I nodded, my gaze breaking from his cheerful face to look for the controls that I had expected to see in front of him. I was a bit surprised to discover there was no control column between the pilot's seat and the pedals in front. Instead, I spied a side-stick on either side of the cockpit, positioned by each pilot’s armrest—I had just learned something new about Airbus aircraft.

“Let's show you a few things then," Captain Williams began. "Right now the airplane is on autopilot, so it’s flying all by itself,” he explained. “In just a minute here, the autopilot is going to bank the airplane and change the heading.” He paused and then, sure enough, the plane entered a turn all by itself. “See that?” he beamed. I was impressed.

He pointed out some of the displays in front of him. In the middle of the instrument panel, I recognized a standby analog gauge that I’d seen before during my many hours of playing Microsoft Flight Simulator.

“Is that the artificial horizon?” I asked, pointing at the little miniature representation of an airplane with blue sky above and brown earth beneath.

“That’s exactly what it is,” Captain Williams chuckled. “Tell me, what are you planning on becoming when you grow up?” “I'm going to be a pilot,” I replied with no uncertainty.
“Well then, we might see you up here in a few years then,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Michael, you had a picture for the captain, didn’t you?” the stewardess reminded me. Oh yes! I’d nearly forgotten what I was clutching. I offered it to the jolly captain, who made all the appropriate oohs and ahs and thanked me sincerely for the artwork.

“Thank you for coming and visiting us, and do enjoy the rest of the flight, Michael,” he called out as the stewardess gently guided me back out the cockpit door. I had the biggest grin on my face as I climbed back into my seat. I must have talked my family’s ears off the rest of the flight, probably only taking breaks to periodically hound the cabin crew with requests for more orange juice. I was learning how to make good use of that call button.

But if I thought I’d had a once-in-a-lifetime experience in that short five-minute visit, it was about to get better than my wildest dreams.

The seatbelt sign had just come back on and the aircraft was slowly descending toward the clouds that perpetually blanket the English countryside. I was peering out the window, watching the fluffy cotton puffs get closer when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking up I saw my stewardess friend had returned.

“The captain wants to know if you’d like to watch the landing from the cockpit?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Once again I was being led up to the front, this time to be securely strapped into a jumpseat behind the pilots. The stewardess clipped in the 4-point harness, cinched it down and then with a cheerful, “Enjoy!” she left me with the two pilots who were now quietly engaged with their task of performing the final approach.

Captain Williams glanced back to give me a quick smile and a wink. I grinned back and watched intently, as quiet as a mouse. Whereas when we were at cruise there wasn’t much of a view outside the cockpit except clouds and sky, now I could see the deep green British landscape spreading out beneath us, and out in front of the nose a brightly illuminated runway. London Heathrow.

A series of pulsing lights stretched toward the runway threshold, seemingly beckoning the aircraft to its touchdown zone. Everything seemed rather quiet and measured as the pilots flew the plane down the glidepath and toward the strip of pavement. Now I could see the captain making small inputs with his left hand on the sidestick, manually controlling the aircraft. The hand on the stick progressively moved a little quicker, side to side, forward and backward as the runway grew larger. The ground loomed and the nose smoothly rose into the flare attitude. Then before I knew it we were touching down and decelerating. It was over entirely too quickly!

As they shut the aircraft down, Captain Williams turned around to see me with my still-wide eyes. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked. “Oh yes!” I said, thanking him profusely. “Very good. We’ll be looking forward to seeing you when you come work for us in a few years,” he smiled.

I felt a bit timid standing outside the cockpit door waiting for my family to arrive at the front while all the passengers filed by and out onto the jetway, but the nice stewardess kept her hand on my shoulder and made sure I didn’t get swept off with the crowd. It wasn’t long until my family arrived, still rather amazed at what I’d managed to get myself into.

These kinds of opportunities—of which some are no longer possible in our current world—can be defining moments in a child’s life. Although I was already crazy about planes and knew I wanted to be a pilot, I think that visit to the cockpit was an event which was guaranteed to keep me hopelessly smitten with the flying bug. It’s something I’ve never forgotten…and never will.

My favorite kind of office window.

Twenty years later, I was living the dream. Not only had I learned to fly, I was helping others realize their dreams as well through my job as a flight instructor. And sometimes that meant getting my own neat opportunity to pay things forward and give a wide-eyed kid his or her first experience inside the cockpit of an airplane.

Admittedly, as a grown-up I've come to realize that even a dream job isn't glamorous and exciting day in and day out. The real stresses of trying to help a struggling student prepare for a stage check, the endless laps around the traffic pattern, the unbearably hot cockpits of trainer aircraft during blazing summer months—these were just some of the things that often had me more looking forward to the end of the day than to the next takeoff.

But one day it occurred to me again what I was actually getting paid to do on a daily basis. And so when I would start to get bogged down with the pressures or stresses of the job, I made it a point to do what instructors always tell their students to do... look out the window.

Remind myself what I was doing and allow myself to be excited again. Relish anew the sights that few people get to see on a daily basis. And realize I was flying. I was a pilot. It’s what I always wanted to be.