Lazy Days

I tend to blog when I’m away on trips, but the last three months those have been sparse. November and December I was on “long-call reserve” which came with the blessing of a 12-hour call out. I took the risk of staying at home, trusting that if and when the scheduling department called I would be able to get to Atlanta in time.

In November, including my annual four-day training, I worked a total of 13 days, with 17 days off. To put that in perspective, as a reserve pilot I am only guaranteed 11 days off each month, but without the need of being in Atlanta I was able to enhance that somewhat. Of course, that necessitated that I was glued to my cell phone in case Scheduling called, plus the panic that I might not be able to make the next flight out, but that was vitiated by the extra time at home.

In December I only worked 8 days, including two days for my annual “proficiency check,” you know, to see if I could still fly an airplane to company standards. That was stressful, but I successfully passed and learned a thing or two, to boot. But the net result was that I was home for an amazing 23 days, including Christmas!

Then in January I scored a “line.” I was no longer on reserve. I had a regular schedule! That earned me a minimum of 12 days off, but I also had a week of paid vacation as well, so this month I am only working 14 days, with 17 total days off. Not bad!

But then reality checks back in. With the deteriorating economy, my airline determined that it needed to furlough 80 pilots. Fortunately for me, I was not one of them, but it eroded my seniority. This, compounded by the fact that the company created 50 fewer “lines” for February meant that not only will I be back on reserve next month but I will also be back on “short call,” necessitating my presence in Atlanta. Back to 11 days at home.

But on the other hand, I should have a lot more time to blog and read everyone’s blog. So for those of you who check in from time to time to see if I’ve posted anything new, well, there’s a pretty good chance that I’ll be back on my weekly schedule next month. See, there’s always a sliver lining somewhere!

The Things We Do For Love

I finished my last trip of 2008 on New Year’s Eve just a little after noon. A choice loomed before me. I had the next day off, but then needed to be back early on the 2nd for a trip. Flights to Utah appeared to have seats available, but returning to Atlanta on New Year’s Day looked to be rough at best—every flight but one was already oversold plus there were already dozens of fellow Delta and Delta Connection employees (“non-revs”—non revenue paying passengers) like me on the list for whatever empty seats there might be. To compound things, my next days off weren’t until the 6th, meaning that if I chose to stay in Atlanta, I would be gone for eight days in a row. Hardly ideal.

I decided to go for it. The 1:50 flight to Salt Lake City looked good. . . or so I thought. Upon arriving at the gate I saw on the monitors overhead that the flight had less than a handful of seats still available and over 50 non-revs on the list. I stood in line, hoping that the jump-seat in the cockpit was still available. It was a good plan, if only the person just ahead of me hadn’t requested it first. There was still the 4:25 flight, but all of those who didn’t make the 1:50 flight would just roll over to the next one, so my chances were slim at best.

The other pilot recognized my plight and informed me that he had checked out connecting to Salt Lake City through St. Louis and that the jump-seats were available. Another choice. I didn’t want to get stuck in St. Louis if the connecting flight was full. Once again, I decided to go for it. I raced to the other gate, since the St. Louis flight was leaving in less than 30 minutes. Trying to get the flight out on time on a busy travel day, the gate agent was less than happy or helpful when I showed up at nearly the last minute with my request. A Delta pilot had already requested the jump-seat, it turned out. Although I had priority (it was an ASA flight) and he volunteered to sit in back (he was first in the priority list for non-revs) she refused to change anything. With a (supposedly) full flight and 7 non-revs listed, my chances were looking lousy. But, as luck would have it, there must have been some paying passengers who mis-connected because there was one empty seat after all. Hallelujah!

Once in St. Louis I had to wait two and a half hours for the flight to Salt Lake City. Good thing I brought plenty to read. Fortunately I did get the jump-seat this time, and somehow, again in spite of a supposedly full flight, there was an empty seat for me in the back. I took advantage and slept as much as I could, knowing it would be a very short night.

I pulled into the driveway at 8:00, happy to be home, but still dreading the thought of getting up at 4:15 to try to get back to Atlanta. Annette greeted me with an enthusiastic kiss, very pleased that I had made the effort. That and the kids hugs, which ranged from cheerful to exuberant, made all the trouble worthwhile. We had several of our children’s friends over for the festivities, played Mario Kart on the Wii as well as Family Cranium. A good time was had by all. After seeing everyone off, putting the children to bed and cleaning up, Annette and I finally fell asleep around 1:30 or so.

Less than three hours later I was up. Surprisingly, I wasn’t as exhausted as I expected. I guess my body treated it more like a nap. Good thing. Once again, I knew that my best chance lay with requesting the jump-seat. I made sure I was first in line. Now, if a Delta pilot had wanted it, I would have lost out, but otherwise, it’s first come, first served. So first mattered. And sure enough, shortly after requesting and receiving the jump-seat another ASA pilot arrived. I kept my eyes peeled, looking for any Delta pilots, but none showed up. This time I did end up sitting in the cockpit, but I was just happy that I didn’t end up sitting in the airport all day trying to get out. That was a very real possibility.

The Delta pilots were very friendly and a lot of fun, and to top it off there were some First Class breakfasts left over for the three of us. Score! (Pilots love free food, and no, this isn’t typical.) I arrived in Atlanta shortly after noon, roughly 24 hours after I had left. After a brief train ride and somewhat longer bus trip I arrived at my crash pad and. . . well, what else?. . . crashed!

It was definitely a memorable New Year’s Eve. I was very grateful that even with a bump or two along the way, it had all worked out so well and that I was able to be with those I loved to usher in the New Year.