A Day in the Life of a Starving Young Pilot

Tuesday 4:16 p.m. -
I am slowly drawn from the slumber that I had so desperately anticipated and deserved by sounds of a large vehicle that is, apparently, backing up. BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP. As annoying as that was to you now, it was ten times that annoying to me then. This, of course!, is followed by jack hammers and concrete saws and the foreman yelling ( in strong southern dialect ) " C’MON BACK, C’MON BACK ". Dredging myself from the bed I peer from the window to see that the City has decided to bless me with a new sidewalk, after they rip up the old one ... And thus, the day begins.
After shaking off the sleep that had possessed my entire body, I begin to wander around the house, aimlessly, trying to collect my thoughts, wondering what events had taken place while I had napped. Eventually , I decide that it is time to, at least, cloth myself, and take care of the three S’s in preparation for work. I am employed by a regional airline based in CAE, which is about seventy-five miles from my home in GRD. I am also a CFI/CFII/MEI, and, (as considered by some) a scum-of-the-earth time-builder, trying to pursue a career as a professional pilot. My job at the airline is a third shift job, which is great, because this leaves me plenty of time to instruct in the mornings and on weekends. My shift starts at 10:00 p.m. and ends at 6:30 a.m., but with the drive its 8:30 p.m. - 8:00 a.m.. This bequeaths me with eleven and a half hours to #1. FLY, #2. See my family, #3. Sleep, and #4. eat. Feel free to yell out " YOU BASTARD", for putting flying ahead of family in the order of importance, Believe Me, it wouldn’t be the first time those words had pierced my ears. But, I have to fly, not only for my soul, but also to pay the bills, and, for this wounded duck career that I have chosen. Allow me to stop here to make a point before continuing; this is NOT a sob story, or a search for sympathy or pity, its merely a testament of my dedication to aviation. I have chosen this path to follow knowing that it would be a long road and a hard walk, especially in my case where the odds were already stacked against me. Nonetheless, I want to be a professional pilot, beyond instructing. And Now, back to the story

Tuesday 5:30 p.m.
After completing the afternoon routine I hear the sound of the front door closing and squinting through a long yawn I see that my beautiful wife and two lovely daughters have arrived home from work and school, respectfully , and then begins the nightly debriefing. " Did you sleep well?", my wife asks. " Well enough, I guess, for about five hours.", I say. " Well thats good" she replies and then she provides me with the daily update about her issues at work and with the kids. After that, my favorite part of the day, Dinner. Tonight, my favorite, Vegetable Casserole with baked chicken. After the food has been scarfed, I thank my wife for the meal and then help clean up. I then play my guitar for a few minutes, frighten the dogs with my singing, put on my shoes and prepare for departure. Before leaving the house I kiss my beautiful wife, hug my lovely daughters, quoth my love for all three, and bid my adieu.

Tuesday 8:15 p.m.
I preflight my Toyota and make a quick touch and go for gas and coffee. Once the departure checklist has been completed I buckle up and taxi out. I am now cleared to CAE , via hwy. 34 and I-26, altitude of my discretion, departure frequency is 93.3 fm, and squawking 3 8 2 5, which is the transponder squawk for "Pilot-In-Pain" and is preceeded by the following statement,
" DAMN that coffee is hot!"

Tuesday 9:45 p.m.
I make an on time arrival with no PAWOBS and time enroute was ninety minutes. I will utilize the fifteen minutes before my shift to check my e-mail for prospective students and catch up on the nightly hangar discourse. My job title at the airline is that of Aircraft Appearance Specialists, which is a sub-species well below the ranks of mechanic or pilot. And in case you’re wondering just what it is that I do, I am responsible for the replacement, repair, and refurbishment of non-structural items such as interior carpets, seat cushions, seat covers, headrest covers, overhead bin strips, seat track covers, lav. escutcheons, and interior/exterior decals, markings, placards and paints.
I am happy to be at work tonight which is a residual feeling largely impart due to the phone call received in transit to CAE this evening. I was contacted by one of the greatest pilots I know, who owns and operates a 135 charter business based in GRD. He was calling to inform me of a part 91 trip that had been organized for the next morning. We were to depart from GMU at 9:00 a.m., destination - GSO, mode of transportation - a Beechcraft Baron 58 ( ‘97 model ). To all those pilots who don’t already know, allow me to explain, for a starving young pilot, like myself, multi-time is comparable to gold. Its immensely overpriced, its hard to find, and everybody’s looking for it. And, when you do find it you had better do whatever it takes to log it. All I have to do now is make it through an eight hour shift.

Tuesday 10:00p.m.
"Time to make the doughnuts". As I begin making my rounds throughout the hangar, performing my walk on inspections of the CRJ’s and FRJ’s, I also begin formulating a mental itinerary of tomorrow’s schedule. I will be pressed for time, so I have to ensure an accurate plan of attack. Tonight’s workload seems to be a moderate one which is good for the physical condition but can drain your mental stamina. The first three hours Fly-by like an SR-72, ooohh but last five ddddddrrrrrrrraaaaaaggggg by like a Cessna 150 with the barn doors out. However I eventually make through the night and end up clocking out a tad early at 6:14 a.m.

Wednesday 6:15 a.m.
Depart CAE for GRD. Since I was informed of this junket on my way to work I wasn’t able to prepare my pilot attire beforehand. Normally I would have taken a pair of Khakis and a Polo to work and then changed while driving to GMU, quite a formidable task, in itself. But today I have to a land at home for a quick shower and change.

Wednesday 8:00 a.m.
Depart GRD for GMU, about a forty-five minute trek at a ground speed of 85 mph. Right now I pumped up with anticipation for the flight, which I am hoping will last until lunch time. I roll into the parking lot of the airport at Exactly 8:45 a.m., at the same time I answer a phone call from my captain explicating his delay and instructing me to preflight the baron, have it topped-off, and then await his ingress.

Wednesday 9:37 a.m.
Preflight complete, the captain has arrived and checked weather, and the Boss is now walking down the hallway. We board without delay, light the fires and inform the tower of our intentions. Once the clearance has been received we taxi into position and " throw the coals to it" , as my Grandfather always said. As we climb through an overcast layer at three thousand feet the cockpit is pervaded with warm sunshine and we continue our ascent into the vast blue troposphere.

Wednesday 11:00 a.m.
We arrive in GSO and after parking at the FBO we secure the aircraft and coordinate the departure schedule with a ± two hour leeway. After that, it was straight to pilots lounge, for me, for an attempt at R.E.M.. To my dismay all four plush, posh, leather Lazy-boysã that recline up to 180° horizontally, were taken by epaulet wearing pilots. I was left with the far right corner of the couch. As I slide into position and hold allowing fatigue to take over and for the next ninety minutes I stumble in and out of consciousness enjoying small glimpse’s of dreams.

Wednesday 12:35 p.m.
Finally I decide that my attempt for sleep is futile and go scavenging for food. In the far left corner of the lounge there stands a brown mini fridge that is stocked with the standard "Pilot’s Lunch". So, I take two packs of peanutbutter-on-cheese crackers, stick a soda in my pocket and proceed to wander around the building, aimlessly, trying to collect my thoughts, wondering if all this is really worth it. I find the captain in the lobby and we begin to discuss the stability of the industry focusing on regional airlines, charter and corporate aviation, which, as always, proves to be very depressing. After watching several airplanes takeoff and land we notice our client on approach to the terminal and we intercept his course outbound towards the airplane and prepare for departure. As we walk to the aircraft a Lear 45 taxis out to our right producing a relative wind gust that incarcerates us with the bueatiful fragrance of burnt Jet fuel, reminding me of my love for aviation.

Wednesday 1:50 p.m.
As I buckle up and secure the door , my left-seater begins the start procedure. I follow him with my eyes as I adjust the dedicated Boseâ headset to my liking. Seconds after takeoff the command " your Airplane " is spoken and we make the return flight in record time due to an outstanding tailwind. Various portions of both the initial and return flights are operated in IMC, so I also get to log some actual time as well. I spend the majority of the flight absorbing as much knowledge as I can from my captain until we are eventually cleared for the approach into GMU. As I struggle to keep the localizer and glideslope crosshaired I begin to realize how hard I am working to maintain this approach. This becomes evident to the captain as well and he remarks " I’ll take it from here ". Relieved, I just sit back and enjoy the remainder of the ride.

Wednesday 2:55 p.m.
Arrival at GMU. After securing the aircraft and expressing my appreciation for the invitation I climb into my Toyota and drive to the nearest gas station for a 20 oz. coffee. This, I hope, will keep me alert for the ride home. I maintain at or below the speed limit for the remainder of the drive and reflect on the day’s flight.

Wednesday 4:00 p.m.
I pull into the driveway, pour myself out of the truck and stumble into the front door of my house kicking of my shoes and leaving a trail of clothing in my wake. I make a straight-in final approach for my bed impacting the mattress face-first as my memory fades into oblivion, this completing a 23 hour day with only a few hours of sleep to look forward to. I have endured all this for only 1.8 hours of multi-engine time which I will gratefully log.

Wednesday 6:37 p.m.
I awake to the smell of another great dinner and to sounds of laughter. I again climb out of bed and wander around the house, aimlessly, trying to collect my thoughts, dreaming of my comfortable mattress, soft pillow, and warm blanket. I spend the next two hours with my family trying to prevent my sleep deprivation from turning into rage.

Wednesday 8:15 p.m.
I depart GRD for CAE for another eight hour shift like a zombie in the graveyard. And so begins another day in the life of a starving young pilot.