A few things in this life are so fundamentally compelling that despite months of planning and anticipation the event itself is so overwhelming, so captivating, that memories become a blended blur of the real and the imagined. Having a child is such an experience. So is taking off in a brand new Boeing 737-700.
Last month, you may remember leaving me and my wife, Cathy, three Southwest Airline captains and three charming ladies from the airline's Flight Ops in Chicago on the tarmac at Boeing Field in Seattle. Our assignment was to deliver a new airplane to the airline's Phoenix base. Incredibly, some of the assembled crowd even got paid to do this.
After a lengthy preflight, much picture taking and some good-natured ribbing, we all piled into that spanking new airplane, locked the door and set about taking it off the new airplane lot and into airline service. Thanks to our designation as a Part 91 flight, I got the right seat, Captain Tony Dorsch got the left, Check Airman Bob Blankenship got the jump seat between us, and Cathy got the second jump seat behind Tony.
Windows closed and locked, I read the checklist. When we got to the APU start, I reached to the forward overhead panel and hit the start switch. The rest was automatic. With generators online, we set about entering the flight plan to Phoenix into the flight management system, aligning the inertial reference system and getting the cabin comfortable. Tony turned to me and said, "Want to get our clearance?" Fumbling for the mic switch, I announced to Boeing Clearance Delivery, "Boeing Clearance, Southwest five thousand one to Phoenix with Papa," in my best airline captain voice. The response was quick: "Cleared Kent Four Departure, J5 SUMMA, (garbled), direct Kimberly, as filed, maintain two, expect Flight Level 370 10 minutes after departure, squawk 3545."
I got almost all of it but had to ask for the fix after SUMMA, which turned out to be Klickitat (KLT). "Read back correct," was the laconic reply. Didn't he know this was the maiden voyage for 454 Whiskey November, serial number 29851? Bob led me through the engine starts. Simple enough, fuel pumps on, starter switch to "Ground," when N2 reached 25 percent and N1 started up, Tony lifted the start lever over its detent to idle and the brand new (five hours on it) GE-Snecma engine capable of 24,000 lbs of thrust spun up, rolled back and stabilized. Same with engine number two.
We had fiddled long enough with enough new things that the lineman in charge of directing us out of the parking spot had parked himself on a truck awaiting some sign of purposeful intent on our part. Once convinced that we intended to leave, he displayed the landing gear locking pins (these belonged to Boeing, he pointed out on our walk-around) and waved us toward Runway 13R. Tony ran the tiller.
Position and hold. The sky was a clear soft blue, Mount Rainier's snow-covered crest shimmered straight ahead. The airplane smelled like a new car. The winds were negligible and the takeoff was mine. "Southwest 5001 cleared for takeoff." Tony responded and I grabbed the throttles. There was a moment's hesitation as Tony put his hands up there, too, as if we were going steady. Realizing that Tony was the real captain here, I took my hands off those big gray handles and concentrated on keeping the airplane on the centerline. "Power set," said Bob. Very little pressure was required on the rudder pedals, and I wondered if Tony was really flying this thing. Was I just sitting there like some sort of innocent ingénue? Next he called V1, V rotate, and I pulled back on the yoke. "Positive rate, gear up," said Tony. Just like thousands of other flights, only this time I was flying a commercial airliner and fast approaching that 2,000-foot assigned altitude. "Flaps one," said Tony. An instant later we were all cleaned up and cleared to 6,000.
