I reached over to the left of my seat and squeezed the red tabs of the oxygen mask. The mask hissed as the inflatable straps began to fill with air. I pulled the device out of its holder and placed it over my face. Immediately after I released the red tabs, the cup and goggle combination enveloped my head with a firm grip as though the spiny creature from Alien had attacked. The creature attempted to squeeze my prescription glasses into my eyes. I tugged and pulled, wrestling with the entire device in an attempt to reduce my blurred vision. My success was limited.
The electronic “Smoke and Fumes” checklist that I had selected for display on the center screen of the cockpit pedestal was barely legible, perhaps a realistic scenario if visibility were indeed restricted. Fortunately, I was seated in a simulator. Smoke was merely stated by our check airman rather than replicated. Like most of my colleagues, I was not especially fond of this training exercise. It was good medicine that tasted horrible. Later, I reflected on the scenario.
