by C. J. Stott
Predictably, the operation folks in the airline’s mini-tower looked at, around and behind 100 to verify the area was clear, “You are released and cleared to push off of Gate 67. Contact SFO Ground Control for taxi clearance.”
“Company says we’re cleared to push and to contact Ground.”
Don smiled to himself, “We’re on the way to New York.” He nodded to Fred, “Very good.”
“Good morning San Francisco Ground Control. This is 100 ready to push back from Gate 67 at our terminal. We’d like to push back for New York.”
The FAA controller who managed to keep all the taxiing aircraft sorted out at SFO said, “100. You’re cleared to push.” She waited a second or two, then added, “Cleared to taxi to Runway 28. Right now, I can offer either Left or Right, your choice.”
Don started to reprimand Fred for his unnecessary chatter, when ground gave them a choice of departure runways. Not paying attention, Don said, “Tell them we’ll take 1 Right.”
Fred looked at him with a questioning glance, “Don, the choice was 28 Left or Right. Not 1 Right. Which do you want? 28 Left or 28 Right? Or, do you want me to request 1 Right?”
Don picked up his microphone. “Ground this is 100. We’d like 1 Right, if it’s available. If it’s not, then we’ll take 28 Right.”
“Actually, 100, your clearance was for 28 Right or 28 Left.” Don sat rigid and fumed.
The Ground Controller continued, “1 Right was never requested when your company filed a flight plan for you. It was never part of your clearance. If you are requesting 1 Left or 1 Right, we’ll see what we can do. In the future, you should have your company make that request so we can fit you into the North Departures.”
Don said nothing. He was embarrassed. Heat caused by his humiliation spread across his face. “100. State your intentions. Will you be using one of the 28’s, or are you still requesting 1 Right?”
Fred looked at Don. He waited. This was not a good moment to say anything.
“100? Are you there? Say your intentions.” Seconds passed, “Over.”
Don pressed his microphone button, “100. We’ll take 28 Right.” Then added, “Sorry for the confusion.”
“No problem 100. Monitor Ground on 121.80 until you are in the run up area for 28 Right.”
Don’s pulse quickened. He was still embarrassed. And he was very irritated at Fred. He thought maybe he was being taunted by his First Officer because he was fairly new to the 747.
“Fred, give the mechanics a call and tell them we are cleared to push back. Also, tell them that we’re going to be using Runway 28 Right and we need to be headed North or East.”
Fred nodded, “Hey. You still down there? We have our clearance for Runway 28 Right. The Captain wants us headed North or East. Got all that?”
“Roger.” The static returned. “Release the brakes and we’ll shove you out of town.”
The parking brake warning light was on and the brake pressure checked. Don twisted in his seat and looked back at Stan, “Stanley, turn ADP #1 ON for body gear steering and #4 Electric pump ON for brake pressure.”
Stan had anticipated this as Don spoke, and turned two control switches. Three thousand pounds of hydraulic pressure surged through the aircraft.
Don pressed down on the toe brakes and the parking brake locking mechanism clicked off and then released. The aircraft rocked slightly as loads were relieved on the main landing gear.
Don said, “Brakes released. We’re cleared to push back.” Then to Stan, “Mark the time.”
Chapter 27
08:40 Pacific Standard Time
San Francisco International Airport
Two mechanics are assigned to dispatch each flight. One walked alongside the nose gear, while the other drove the tractor. Both mechanics wore communal headsets and could hear each other as well as the instructions from the cockpit. Slowly, the two mechanics walked the aircraft away from the terminal.
Don said, “Tell the mechanics we’re ready to go.”
Fred called the mechanics on the interphone. “We are ready to go.
Fred faced Don. “Maintenance says they want to know who is going to get charged with a delay.”
Don looked at his Rolex and saw 08:42. “Give them schedule at 08:30.
Fred looked back at Stan then said to Don. “We can’t do that because of ACARS. It knows what time we left the gate. And it never lies.”
Stan chuckled. “It lies today. It’s still broken. San Francisco’s finest mechanics were supposed to fix it. But I still get a NO COMM light and it’s covered with MALF stickers.”
Don said, “Then give them 08:30 for departure Stan.” Then he added to both pilots in the cockpit, “I’m sorry, fellas. I guess I was a little short back there.”
Fred could not contain himself. “No, I don’t think you’re too short. I make you to be about six foot give or take a little.”
Laughing, Fred quickly added, “Apology accepted. Trust me, Don. I won’t do anything to lead you down the primrose path. Don’t forget. My butt’s strapped in this hunk of aluminum too.”
The ground mechanic called on the ships interphone, “Hey Skipper, are the brakes off?”
“Yes Sir.”
The ground tractor’s turbo-charged diesel engine coughed and then labored under the strain of getting the heavy 747 rolling. A cloud of unburned black diesel fuel trailed the ground tractor. Very slowly, the aircraft started to roll backward on the ramp away from the passenger gates. Don and Fred watched the size of the aircraft’s reflection diminish in the terminal windows with each increasing foot. Slowly, the tug’s four wheels turned in unison to allow the aircraft to be turned 90° to the terminal. Now, the 747 faced north toward the hills across the Bayshore Freeway.
“Parking Brakes on, Captain.”
“Roger that.” Don looked at the pressure gauge and added, “Brake Pressure Checks.” All three pilots knew that if the brake pressure dropped and the airplane started to roll, there would be no way to stop the aircraft other than to use the emergency pneumatic brakes.
The ground mechanic called, “You’re cleared to start engines 4, 3, 2 and 1.”
Don made one final check of the numerous system indicators in the cockpit. Satisfied that everything related to engine start was ready. He saw his Flight Engineer had done his job properly.
Don commanded, “TURN 4.”
The First Officer reached up and held down the #4 Engine START switch. Numerous circuits were energized and a green start valve OPEN light came on. Fred said with no trace of humor, “#4 Valve OPEN.”
Stan watched the pneumatic duct pressure decrease by thirty percent and saw the N2 tachometer on the #4 engine slowly start to move. When the N2 tachometer indicated the twenty percent, Don smoothly and quickly lifted the #4 engine start lever and called to Stan, “#4 Start Lever UP.”
Stan responded, “#4 Fuel Flow 1,100 pounds and steady,” an indication the initial fuel surge into the burner section of the engine was not excessive. The engine continued to accelerate to just over 45% N2, when the pneumatic starter disengaged.
Don, Fred and Stan repeated the ritual for the three remaining engines.
Both Fred and Don intently watched outside as the signalman walked to a location forty-five degrees off the nose of the aircraft on the Captain’s side. The mechanic looked strange with his head and most of his face covered with a baseball cap and enormous sound suppression earmuffs, and large Ray-Ban sunglasses. He stood with flashlight wands crossed in an “X” high on his chest that indicated it was unsafe for the aircraft to move.
Slowly, the tractor backed away from the nose gear, pulling the twenty-foot long tow bar. Even at a speed of less than two miles per hour the tractor bounced on the uneven pavement as it made its way back to the terminal.
After the mechanic made sure there was nothing near the aircraft, he saluted and then held one arm straight out in the general direction the aircraft was to taxi. He fanned the other wand in a circular motion to indica
te movement.
Don eased the four throttles forward and each engine tachometer responded. The mass of the 747 required a moderate amount of thrust to start rolling. Once the aircraft was under way, substantially less power was required to keep her rolling.
Don spoke to Stan. “Look and see if we have a dragging brake. She’s taking a lot of power this morning to get her rolling.” As he spoke, Stan had already started to check the brake temperature monitors.
“Too early to tell. All the brakes are still cool.” Slowly, the 747 started to move away from the ramp area.
Fred handed Stan the paperwork required for takeoff, while Don called for the After Engine Start Checklist, to which Stan challenged and Fred responded to the litany of over twenty items.
During a brief lull in the workload, Fred said, “Captain, I think we should give our illustrious Engineer a gold star for his exemplary reading of the check list. He definitely is Captain material.”
Stan reached up and turned the Auxiliary Power Unit controller to OFF. “Captain, APU’s secured.”
“Very good. Thanks.”
Don smiled at Fred’s comment about Stan and thought maybe this was going to be a good trip after all.
His First Officer probably was harmless and didn’t mean anything by his remarks. Don briefly whistled a mindless tune as he taxied this seven hundred and fifty thousand pound aluminum tube full of people, fuel and cargo toward the runway. He let his mind wander as he settled into his seat and guided the 747 with the nose gear tiller.
He casually considered the prospects of today’s flight, the enroute time and the destination weather, then with no provocation Don said, “Probably going to have some rain in New York for our arrival.”
Both Fred and Stan were surprised by his unsolicited comment.
Fred said carefully, “I don’t know about that. I’m not sure the rain will get there before we land. But it’ll definitely be raining by tomorrow morning. It never fails, I wanted to go for a walk in New York, maybe do some shopping. Looks like the weather fairy has struck again.”
When Don heard the word morning, and thoughts of Kathryn suddenly bounded into his mind. Mornings and Kathryn seemed to go together. Don thought about their last morning together and mused there had to be a better way to keep their relationship on a more even keel. A half-hour ago he was going to terminate the affair and now he was thinking about tomorrow morning with her.
The thought of being with her this evening and tomorrow made his pulse race. He had once complained to Kathryn that Ruth was sexually old-fashioned. The last time they had been together he remembered how Kathryn’s stomach muscles rippled every time she neared a climax. Her entire body bucked and twisted under his attention...
“Don. We were supposed to stay on the INNER. Then we’re to turn left on taxiway PAPA. You missed the turn.”
Don snapped back at Fred, “What?” He couldn’t believe it. “I did what?” He instinctively stopped the aircraft and let it rock slowly on the landing gear.
Fred repeated what he had just said. “Our clearance was to stay on the INNER Taxiway FOXTROT, then via PAPA to the 28 Right Run Up Area. You missed PAPA. PAPA’s behind us. Taxiway NOVEMBER is ahead, just over there.” He pointed in the general direction of the end of Runway 28 Right. “I’ll call Ground Control and tell them.”
Don sat tightly, “Don’t tell them a thing. We’ll just go to NOVEMBER and make the turn.”
Fred was not comfortable with Don’s apparent disregard of Ground Control’s instructions. “You sure?”
Don repeated his command. “Yes, God dammit, I’m sure. Don’t say anything to Ground Control.”
Don was irritated by his mistake. He had not been paying attention. His daydreaming had fogged his concentration.
It was time for him to pay attention to the job at hand and think about Kathryn later. He taxied ‘til the cockpit was well past the entrance to taxiway NOVEMBER. When the nose tires were lined up with the curved apron throat, he deftly pulled the tiller full aft, which directly turned the nose gear into the opening for NOVEMBER.
San Francisco Ground Control called them on the radio. “100. It appears you have entered taxiway NOVEMBER instead of PAPA.”
Fred thought, and then said, “We’re busted.”
Don swore under his breath.
SFO Ground Control continued in a stern and officious manner, “In the future 100, if you are unable to comply with our instructions, please advise.”
Fred moved uneasily in his seat then said, “Aw shit, Don. They caught us at our little game. Now, do you want me to say anything to them? Like maybe apologize?”
“I’ll handle it.” Microphone in hand, Don used his most cooperative tone of voice. “San Francisco Ground, we are sorry about the mistake. You are absolutely right. I was distracted looking at the departure chart and missed PAPA. It looks like no harm was done. Sorry for the mix up.”
The ground controller continued to grind as he said, “We’ll let it go this time, 100. But, be advised Taxiway NOVEMBER was closed all of last week for work in progress. There is a published NOTAM about the construction and closure. If it had been closed, you would have been stranded out there with no way to turn around. In the future, please pay attention to where you’re going.”
Fred thought to himself, “Oops!”
Don sighed then apologized, “Roger. It won’t happen again. Sorry for the mistake.”
Without thinking Stan said, “Hell of a way to start a trip.” He immediately knew that was a mistake.
Don turned and gave him a disdainful stare. “Just do your job, Stan.”
“Yes sir.”
“Fred and I’ll take care of flying the airplane. I don’t appreciate your unsolicited comments.”
Again, Fred settled in his seat and busied himself with nonessential business. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder at Stan and quietly smiled, as if to say, “Hang in there. In five hours, we’ll be in New York.”
Embarrassment welled up in Don. It turned to mild self-criticism. He thought to himself, “Making a mistake was bad enough , but having to admit it and then publically apologize was horrible.” His thoughts just kept coming, “Competence is my motto. I have never thought of myself as being incompetent. I had best clean up my act, an airplane is no place for foolish distractions.”
As an addendum to his self-ridicule, he thought, Forget Kathryn for the time being. Plenty of time to worry about her later.
Chapter 28
08:40 Pacific Standard Time
San Francisco International Airport
Ten minutes after Flight 100 pushed back from the gate and started taxiing, Robert Burns recalled what prompted him to make the trip out to Gate 67 at the end of the terminal. It had been to locate and interrogate Guerrero.
He swore to himself, “Damn, that was sloppy police work. I never should have let Shapiro sidetrack me like that. What the hell’s the matter with me, I was after someone else.”
He filled out the lengthy Passenger Incident Report as it applied to Shapiro’s denied boarding. He filled in most of the numerous blanks on the legal-sized document.
Burns was not convinced by his thin rationalization and excuse about the error of his ways. He was bothered by his lapse in police protocol. He attempted to quietly cover his mistake. “Maybe he was going to New York to look for a job and didn’t plan on to returning to San Francisco.” Intuitively, though, he knew he was rationalizing a bad decision and a glaring lapse in protocol.
Burns’ deep concern caused him to speak loud enough that Shapiro overheard some of his comments, “Or, maybe he’s a hijacker, on his way to God knows where.”
Shapiro responded to Burns’ subconscious remark. “Not only are you a has-been - a retired ex-flat foot - you are senile, too. I have a round-trip ticket from New York to San Francisco and back to New York. What in the hell are you mumbling about? Me a hijacker?”
Burns looked at his obnoxious detainee and smiled, “Have a nice day, Mr. Shap
iro. I hope American Airlines will be able to accommodate you and your travel needs. By the way, sir, we have a record of today’s events. Should you decide to travel with us in the future, please be advised we will not tolerate any more of your outrageous behavior.”
He folded the paperwork and put it in his coat pocket, as Mel Shapiro got up to leave.
“See you around, Pops. The next time I ride on your airline you won’t be around, ‘cause I’m going to have you fired. You can take your airline job and shove it.”
Chapter 29
08:45 Pacific Standard Time
San Francisco International Airport
Bill Guerrero was falling and could not stop. He grabbed at anything that was flying past him. He continued to fall. The place into which he was falling was a tunnel that had walls covered by stringy gripping vines and damp, dark rocks. He fell faster. He was being jostled and then felt a shuddering jolt. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, but the feeling did not go away. He sat upright in his seat and grabbed the armrest. The cabin spun.
He took deep breaths. The speed of the revolutions slowed, reversed direction and then gradually stopped.
Now, he slowly realized he was in the middle of hundreds of people. Not one of them paid the slightest attention to him. He sensed he was different from everyone else. Again, he felt uneasy. Unknown to him, he was experiencing another example of the unintended side effects of the Valium; disorientation and unfocused paranoia. Around the cabin, he continued to look to see if anyone watched him.
He thought, “Be casual. Don’t attract no attention to yourself.”
He turned his head far to the left and saw the faggy Flight Attendant who looked directly at him. The “afeminado” caught his eye, smiled and then winked at him.
He was disgusted by this blatant overture. He wondered why the Maricón was so interested in him. Then Carlton approached his seat, “Did you have a nice nap? You were really sleeping very soundly.”
