Newark is not my favorite airport. The drive from my home in Connecticut is long and can be fraught with the horrors of standstill traffic. The scenery on the New Jersey turnpike has all the appeal of a trip to the local landfill. The airport itself is famous for its "blue sky" departure and arrival delays.
I was pleasantly surprised that morning when Carol and I pulled up to the curb at the terminal unscathed and ahead of schedule. Carol was flying out to visit her family in Minnesota. I was flying out later that afternoon to begin a turnaround to Miami. I would be the check airman for Linda Wackerman on her first operating experience (OE) trip.
Linda was upgrading from the right seat of the Super 80 to the right seat of the 757/767. She and her husband were still active in the Navy Reserves. The husband flew for the Navy, but was not an airline pilot. They lived in Pennsylvania with their four children.
Over the phone, Linda had been enthusiastic. Having completed the rigors of simulator training, she was eager to fly the actual airplane. She had no problems arriving early in order for us to attack an agenda that included a 757 walk-around inspection.
Our equipment was scheduled to reach the gate an hour and a half prior to departure. Plenty of time to stroll around the airplane. Plenty of time to help Linda become acquainted with the cockpit of a 757.
In addition, the weather along the eastern coastline was cooperating. No problems anywhere. The day was shaping up to be a piece of cake. I should have known better. Because of circumstances, cake would be taken off the menu.
Linda's greeting came with a broad smile, but was accompanied by an occasional throaty cough. She had picked up the latest virus du jour from her youngest son. She insisted that despite the cough, she felt 100 percent up to the task. She extended her hand. I had just recovered from my own malady. I thought of Carol and her susceptibility to the latest germs. I hesitated for a moment and then gave Linda's hand a shake.
We shuffled over to the computer area. I typed an entry on the keyboard. The information that appeared on the screen indicated that our airplane would now be arriving late. The best laid plans … . I tapped another entry onto the keyboard and waited for the printer to clatter out our flight plan information.
After reviewing the paperwork, Linda and I walked out of Operations with the intention of being at the gate the moment our 757 came to a stop. We were successful. A steady stream of deplaning passengers flowed past us as we stepped through the door and outside onto the jet-bridge stairs. The tardy arrival would create a tardy departure. That was okay. I wouldn't have to guide Linda through preflight preparations at warp speed.
The walk-around inspection proceeded without issues. Linda was all smiles. We climbed back up the jet-bridge stairs and into the airplane. We introduced ourselves to the flight attendants gathered in the forward galley. We dragged our bags into the cockpit. I instructed Linda to get comfortable and then to begin programming the FMC. The first order of business was to give my standard mission briefing to the flight attendants. I promised to help Linda with any stumbling blocks once I returned from the cabin.
With the briefing complete, I stepped back into the cockpit. I was pleased to see that Linda had progressed through a good portion of the programming. As I organized my side of the office, I offered her some additional tips.
By the time the gate agent leaned into the cockpit to check if we were ready for departure, Linda and I had begun the Before Starting Engines checklist. The agent wished us a safe flight. The forward entry door was closed. The ground crew announced that they were ready via the interphone. We completed our checklists and began the pushback.
Earlier, I had asked Linda if she wanted to fly the first leg of our turnaround. The word 'yes' rolled off her tongue without hesitation. Unless external factors, i.e. challenging weather conditions are an issue, I offer the pilot new to the airplane a choice.
Some pilots would rather observe the first leg, while the majority are eager to jump right in. One could argue the decision either way. Perhaps it is preferable to allow a new kid the opportunity to observe an experienced pilot set the standard. Personally, I would rather a new pilot learn from his own attempt. An OE trip for a copilot with our airline involves only 15 hours before being released to line flying. Oftentimes, those 15 hours may only include four landings in which to practice. The simulator provided enough background to at least have a feel for the mechanics of flying the airplane. If mistakes are made, they are usually correctable by a briefing. If a briefing doesn't help, a demonstration can be performed on a subsequent leg.
In Linda's case, a demonstration was unnecessary. Her takeoff into a cool November night sky elicited a grin that I could easily distinguish despite the faint glow of a dark cockpit. The typical awkwardness of flying a new airplane was absent. Linda maneuvered our 757 with the deftness of a butterfly.
Our arrival into Miami was no different. Linda knew her procedures. She slowed the airplane, requesting flap settings at the appropriate time. Her situational awareness was not hampered by her unfamiliarity with a new machine. I was impressed.
But then all good things must come to an end. In this case, it was the last 50 feet. Linda began her flare a little bit earlier than Super 80 height, but not quite at 757 height. Although I blame myself for describing an almost flat attitude required for touchdown, Linda took it a little further. Our contact with the ground was similar to that of a flying pancake. Only a small amount of air existed between the nosewheel and the runway. The nosewheel was on the concrete only a second or two behind the main wheels. Needless to say, it was a rather firm, but safe arrival. That was okay. Learning was taking place.
We crossed the parallel runway and taxied toward the gate. In retrospect, through no fault of Linda, I would reflect on the fact that our flight from Newark would be the highlight of the trip. The downhill slide began about 50 yards away from our parking position, where I was forced to stop the airplane.
We were 20 minutes late. Apparently that justified the lack of ground personnel. Linda conveyed the absence of human life to our company ramp control over the radio. We waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes later, a crew chief assigned to an adjacent gate unloading a 777 had a customer service moment. He rallied his team together and marched over to our ramp area. With orange wands in hand, we were guided into the gate. Later, I would thank the 777 crew chief for his initiative. I didn't want to imagine how much longer it would have taken for our assigned ground crew to show up for class. And I don't blame the crew. In the current atmosphere of minimal staffing, a manager probably utilized them to plug a hole in the dike elsewhere.
Unfortunately, our problems were just beginning. As Linda and I progressed through the parking checklist, the APU decided it was time to take a break. We groaned in unison as the cockpit and cabin went dark. I gestured at the switch on the overhead panel and asked Linda to restart the APU. I reached for my microphone and pressed the PA button on the audio panel in the center pedestal. I explained the problem to our passengers.
Although the APU returned to life, it decided to give up a minute or so later. Our calls to ramp control requesting external power did not inspire a timely response. I wasn't surprised. Our original ground crew heroes had returned to their task on the 777. Our assigned crew was still absent. When power was eventually restored, Linda made a radio call to maintenance.
I exited the airplane to retrieve the flight plan paperwork at the gate podium for the return to Newark. An elderly couple stood on the jet bridge just outside the forward entry door of the airplane. The couple shared furrowed brows. The man offered me a stern look. Apparently, the appearance of a uniform invited a reaction similar to a bull eyeing a red cape. The man admonished me for not allowing his wife to stow her walker in an overhead bin, something one of the agents in Newark had allegedly done. The couple had been told to wait for the baggage handlers to bring up the walker from the cargo compartment once they arrived in Miami. It wasn't happening.
The fact that our assigned ground crew still hadn't reported for duty was one reason for the delay in retrieving the walker. Another reason was a Boeing system issue. The cargo doors require APU or external power to operate. Our power interruption prevented the doors from opening.
