Winds- 170 degrees variable 210 degrees at 20 knots gusting to 30, peak gusts to 35.
There are rainshowers in the area.
Time to earn my salary.
"Your patient is a 57 year old man, victim of a drug overdose. He has ingested an entire bottle of Tylenol PM."
Acetominophen is a wonderful drug unless you take too much of it. In overdose, I'm told it does irreparable damage to the liver, causing a slow, difficult death.
My paramedic is slightly airsick from two previous flights in these conditions.
In an attempt to spare him further discomfort I climb to 3000' above ground level hoping to smooth some of the bumps, even though the flight takes only 13 minutes.
Elevator UP! Elevator Down!
Strong, gusty winds are dangerous with the BK117...
The main rotor is very flexible, and during startup and shutdown in gusty, variable winds can flex downward and strike
the large vertical fins near the rear of the aircraft, rendering it non-flyable. Before we land at the transferring hospital I tell my crew, "I won't risk shutting down here or at the receiving hospital. I'll go get fuel while you tend to the patient and will be waiting on the pad for you when you return."
This crew has been around long enough to know the routine.
I land at the transferring hospital and grab the portable O2 bottle, then help my crew offload the stretcher. There is a security guard prohibiting access to the helipad, so I close the clamshell doors, climb back into my seat, and listen to Dennis Miller on the ADF receiver, emanating from WOAI in San Antonio. I'm distracted, thinking about the patient we're gonna move.
Twenty-four minutes later my crew emerges with him.
He's tubed and unconcious, a very young looking 57 year old. We find out he is a County employee... has a job where he knows full well what an Acetominophen overdose will do to him.
Why?
Why would someone sentence themselves to slow, deliberate death this way?
Patient and crew safely aboard, I button them up and do a walk around to make sure cowlings, doors, and fuel cap are still secure. Again, the takeoff into the wind is an elevator ride up to a smooth altitude. From the transferring hospital I can see the "Bigtown" skyline, but with these winds the 32 mile flight will take 22 minutes... you could almost make it as quickly in a ground ambulance! We're literally flyin' sideways... my heading is 30 degrees left of our course across the ground.
My approach to the rooftop pad at the receiving hospital is into the wind, VERY steep and VERY slow. Elevator towers and surrounding buildings can make these approaches treacherous. I'm surprised and pleased that this approach goes without a hitch. But as I land from a hover I notice the reflection of the pad lights shimmering... the pad is wet with rain.
"Be careful on the pad guys... it looks pretty wet".
Throttles back to ground idle, collective and cyclic secured, I dismount and grab the portable O2 tank on the way back to the clamshell doors. As I start to open them I look down to see a spot of blood at my feet, then another spot, and another, and another on the way to the elevator. Another helicopter has been on this pad before us but since the rain fell, with a bad trauma patient.
Together we hot-offload our patient, and when my crew is safely on their way to the ICU, I pop over to our base to refuel... once again listening to Dennis Miller, thinking how nice it would be to be on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, listening to him there, sharing a few beers with friends and loved ones.
Safely home the questions come-
Why did this gentleman, so close to my own age, find life unbearable?
Why, instead of taking a walk in the woods with a .357 magnum, did he choose this liver-killer as the means of ending his life?
Did he want someone else to suffer?
I'll never know.
29 January 2008
28 January 2008
Traffic Cameras III- Burn Baby Burn!
I promise, after this, no more posts on this subject,
(at least until another REALLY interesting way to destroy the things comes along!)
Light 'em up!
It gives me hope that people the world over haven't forgotten how to revolt against government stupidity.
From the comments there:
"Cameras watching cameras watching cameras..."
Vodkapundit brought the article to my attention.
(at least until another REALLY interesting way to destroy the things comes along!)
Light 'em up!
It gives me hope that people the world over haven't forgotten how to revolt against government stupidity.
From the comments there:
"Cameras watching cameras watching cameras..."
Vodkapundit brought the article to my attention.
23 January 2008
Too Much Freedom?
Some years ago I bought and read this book.
If you can find a copy, I heartily recommend it.
Those of us defending this country had heard rumors of Soviet flying machines... the MI-24 Hind helicopter and the MIG-25 fighter, and what we were hearing frightened us. We knew these machines were fast. We knew little about their weaknesses. I devoured "MIG Pilot" in one sitting.
The strengths and weaknesses of the MIG-25 are covered satisfactorily in the book, but much more fascinating is what we learned about the inefficiencies of the entire Soviet system. When first introduced to one of our Supermarkets, Belenko thinks he's being mislead. Similarly, he's incredulous when he's taken aboard one of our aircraft carriers and shown how our sailors are fed, and how healthy our fighting forces are.
But the thing about the book that most surprised me was something Soviet defectors apparently went through frequently...
Panic at being given "too much freedom".
The Soviet system chose your school. It groomed you for a job. That job determined what sort of housing you could expect to occupy, and the geographical area where you would live. All those decisions were made for you by the Soviet government.
Lieutenant Belenko found himself thrust into a life where he had to begin to think about what he would do with the rest of his life... his occupation, where he would live, what he would eat...
And making all those decisions frightened him. He seriously considered going back to the Soviet Union to face what certainly would have been severe punishment for putting the MIG-25 into the hands of Westerners.
But he didn't, and I'm hopeful he'll write a book bringing us up to date on how he eventually made the transition from Soviet pilot to American citizen.
His story set me to thinking about how similar our country has become in so many ways to the Soviet system, and how we continue in that direction. Many of our citizens have virtually placed their entire lives in the hands of government-
Food.
Housing.
Health Care.
Employment? Many stay at home and have children, knowing money will flow their direction.
These are the same sort of folk that failed to move out of hurricane Katrina's path...
The "Government" didn't provide transportation for them.
Slavery was abolished almost 150 years ago in this country, yet it still exists...
Except now I'm the slave.
For years I've worked hard to produce the finest product I possibly can. More and more, a large chunk of what I produce is taken from me against my will and given to others that could work, but produce nothing while enjoying the fruits of my (and your) labor.
I'd like my fellow citizens to be educated about the joys of being able to make their own choices to improve their lives.
I don't like being a slave.
I want to be free!
If you can find a copy, I heartily recommend it.
Those of us defending this country had heard rumors of Soviet flying machines... the MI-24 Hind helicopter and the MIG-25 fighter, and what we were hearing frightened us. We knew these machines were fast. We knew little about their weaknesses. I devoured "MIG Pilot" in one sitting.
The strengths and weaknesses of the MIG-25 are covered satisfactorily in the book, but much more fascinating is what we learned about the inefficiencies of the entire Soviet system. When first introduced to one of our Supermarkets, Belenko thinks he's being mislead. Similarly, he's incredulous when he's taken aboard one of our aircraft carriers and shown how our sailors are fed, and how healthy our fighting forces are.
But the thing about the book that most surprised me was something Soviet defectors apparently went through frequently...
Panic at being given "too much freedom".
The Soviet system chose your school. It groomed you for a job. That job determined what sort of housing you could expect to occupy, and the geographical area where you would live. All those decisions were made for you by the Soviet government.
Lieutenant Belenko found himself thrust into a life where he had to begin to think about what he would do with the rest of his life... his occupation, where he would live, what he would eat...
And making all those decisions frightened him. He seriously considered going back to the Soviet Union to face what certainly would have been severe punishment for putting the MIG-25 into the hands of Westerners.
But he didn't, and I'm hopeful he'll write a book bringing us up to date on how he eventually made the transition from Soviet pilot to American citizen.
His story set me to thinking about how similar our country has become in so many ways to the Soviet system, and how we continue in that direction. Many of our citizens have virtually placed their entire lives in the hands of government-
Food.
Housing.
Health Care.
Employment? Many stay at home and have children, knowing money will flow their direction.
These are the same sort of folk that failed to move out of hurricane Katrina's path...
The "Government" didn't provide transportation for them.
Slavery was abolished almost 150 years ago in this country, yet it still exists...
Except now I'm the slave.
For years I've worked hard to produce the finest product I possibly can. More and more, a large chunk of what I produce is taken from me against my will and given to others that could work, but produce nothing while enjoying the fruits of my (and your) labor.
I'd like my fellow citizens to be educated about the joys of being able to make their own choices to improve their lives.
I don't like being a slave.
I want to be free!
15 January 2008
14 January 2008
What I Cannot Teach You...
I knew he'd be trouble the first time I saw him.
His "walk" said it all... he was God's gift to aviation.
The certificate in his pocket said "Single Engine Land, Private Pilot Privileges".
He was the proud owner of a Long EZ...
A "Hot" homebuilt aircraft that he HAD NOT built himself. During our initial meeting he made sure I knew how fast his airplane was, and what a great "stick" he was. Old pilots and bold pilots... this one was at the extreme end of the "bold" scale. In a perfect world I'd refuse to take him as a student. But it's just not that easy... I've got bills to pay. So we get in the R22 and start the process of learning to hover, and I know I'm gonna have difficulty with him, even trying to rein him in all along the way.
It turned out he WAS a good stick. He learned quickly. Soon we were at the point where he and I both knew he was ready to go solo.
He said, "Lemme show you something", flew to a residential area and asked, "What do ya think about landing right there?", pointing out a very confined area in a small yard behind a house which was surrounded for several blocks by similar houses. Trees, fences, wires, clotheslines... all complicated the approach, landing, and takeoff scenarios.
I say, "I wouldn't land there."
"Why?!"... He's surprised.
"Because too many things can go wrong, and the neighbors are gonna be upset if you land there, not to mention our friends at the FAA."
I thought that was the last of it. It wasn't.
It's an indication of the sort of personality I was dealing with...
Three days later he told me, "I landed in that lot I showed you behind my Mother-in-law's house, and it was no trouble at all!"
I was shocked... actually I think the word ASTOUNDED better fits my reaction.
I let him know I was not a happy camper and said, "If you want to continue flying this aircraft, you'll pay closer attention to what I'm tellin' ya."
He got the message... I'm sure he continued to do stupid stuff with the helicopter, but he learned not to tell me about it!
But now you've been introduced to the sort of personality that would have been better suited being a Fighter Pilot than a civilian helicopter jockey...
The sort of personality that ends up eventually making the News-
I've discussed before why I think helicopters are safer than airplanes. One of the big reasons I feel that way is because when you find yourself flying along in questionable weather, you can land near "Farmer John's house" and make new friends over a cup of coffee while the weather changes. It's mighty hard to do that when you need 1,500 feet of level, reasonably hard, unobstructed real estate on which to land your flying machine. The thing to remember is, once you're on the ground, stay there until it's safe to fly:
News report.
Nighttime. Clouds at 300 feet. Less than 2 miles visibility. Judgment and flying skills impaired by drugs? When the bent metal has come to rest, everyone can see the links in the chain leading to disaster:
NTSB Accident Report.
A stupid, usless waste of life.
I'm sure that pilot also thought he was God's gift to aviation. It's really unfortunate that he was able to fool two others into getting back into that helicopter with him that night..
His "walk" said it all... he was God's gift to aviation.
The certificate in his pocket said "Single Engine Land, Private Pilot Privileges".
He was the proud owner of a Long EZ...
A "Hot" homebuilt aircraft that he HAD NOT built himself. During our initial meeting he made sure I knew how fast his airplane was, and what a great "stick" he was. Old pilots and bold pilots... this one was at the extreme end of the "bold" scale. In a perfect world I'd refuse to take him as a student. But it's just not that easy... I've got bills to pay. So we get in the R22 and start the process of learning to hover, and I know I'm gonna have difficulty with him, even trying to rein him in all along the way.
It turned out he WAS a good stick. He learned quickly. Soon we were at the point where he and I both knew he was ready to go solo.
He said, "Lemme show you something", flew to a residential area and asked, "What do ya think about landing right there?", pointing out a very confined area in a small yard behind a house which was surrounded for several blocks by similar houses. Trees, fences, wires, clotheslines... all complicated the approach, landing, and takeoff scenarios.
I say, "I wouldn't land there."
"Why?!"... He's surprised.
"Because too many things can go wrong, and the neighbors are gonna be upset if you land there, not to mention our friends at the FAA."
I thought that was the last of it. It wasn't.
It's an indication of the sort of personality I was dealing with...
Three days later he told me, "I landed in that lot I showed you behind my Mother-in-law's house, and it was no trouble at all!"
I was shocked... actually I think the word ASTOUNDED better fits my reaction.
I let him know I was not a happy camper and said, "If you want to continue flying this aircraft, you'll pay closer attention to what I'm tellin' ya."
He got the message... I'm sure he continued to do stupid stuff with the helicopter, but he learned not to tell me about it!
But now you've been introduced to the sort of personality that would have been better suited being a Fighter Pilot than a civilian helicopter jockey...
The sort of personality that ends up eventually making the News-
I've discussed before why I think helicopters are safer than airplanes. One of the big reasons I feel that way is because when you find yourself flying along in questionable weather, you can land near "Farmer John's house" and make new friends over a cup of coffee while the weather changes. It's mighty hard to do that when you need 1,500 feet of level, reasonably hard, unobstructed real estate on which to land your flying machine. The thing to remember is, once you're on the ground, stay there until it's safe to fly:
News report.
Nighttime. Clouds at 300 feet. Less than 2 miles visibility. Judgment and flying skills impaired by drugs? When the bent metal has come to rest, everyone can see the links in the chain leading to disaster:
NTSB Accident Report.
A stupid, usless waste of life.
I'm sure that pilot also thought he was God's gift to aviation. It's really unfortunate that he was able to fool two others into getting back into that helicopter with him that night..
10 January 2008
Robin Williams, Class Act!
You're a civilian with little exposure to military tradition. Something happens that takes you completely by surprise.
Watch true intelligence at work in this man.
(The video made this grown man cry and laugh at the same time!)
Thank you Blackfive.
Watch true intelligence at work in this man.
(The video made this grown man cry and laugh at the same time!)
Thank you Blackfive.
09 January 2008
Hillary Cries, II
Little Sister is an expert at pointing out when her brother is an insensitive moron. She helps keep me from getting 'way out there on the "Dirty Rotten Men" scale.
To my post Hillary Cries she commented:
"As much as I DON'T like Hillary, I have to respond here.
All of you who think she can't do the job just because she cried, are nothing but a bunch of men."
So there, you... you... you... MEN! (Spit that word out like bile!)
Now I actually thought I was bein' compassionate, sayin' I felt sorry for Ms. Rodham.
And my real question was, if Hill is already so tired that she's exhausted and melancholy, what sort of behavior should we be looking for come late-October?
But men, don't be ashamed. I'm not gonna let her accusation go without a little defense here either...
Here's one columnists' take on Hillary's tears.
And here's another.
Both columnists are pictured.
Anything jump out at ya about those pics?!
It's not just men, and it's not just Conservatives noticing Hill's mini-breakdown.
I referred earlier to the fact that I've become cynical.
My real question about Hill's "incident" is, were the tears contrived or real? If they were real I can understand them, although once again I think it's mighty early in this marathon to be so worn out a question like the one posed can bring on the "crackly voice".
If they were contrived, well, that's pretty much what I would expect from the Bill/Hill campaign.
And back to the issue of MEN!... (ptui!)
I've also seen grown men cry at times when I felt it was perfectly appropriate...
But in the example shown, it was NOT about what was happening to HIM!
To my post Hillary Cries she commented:
"As much as I DON'T like Hillary, I have to respond here.
All of you who think she can't do the job just because she cried, are nothing but a bunch of men."
So there, you... you... you... MEN! (Spit that word out like bile!)
Now I actually thought I was bein' compassionate, sayin' I felt sorry for Ms. Rodham.
And my real question was, if Hill is already so tired that she's exhausted and melancholy, what sort of behavior should we be looking for come late-October?
But men, don't be ashamed. I'm not gonna let her accusation go without a little defense here either...
Here's one columnists' take on Hillary's tears.
And here's another.
Both columnists are pictured.
Anything jump out at ya about those pics?!
It's not just men, and it's not just Conservatives noticing Hill's mini-breakdown.
I referred earlier to the fact that I've become cynical.
My real question about Hill's "incident" is, were the tears contrived or real? If they were real I can understand them, although once again I think it's mighty early in this marathon to be so worn out a question like the one posed can bring on the "crackly voice".
If they were contrived, well, that's pretty much what I would expect from the Bill/Hill campaign.
And back to the issue of MEN!... (ptui!)
I've also seen grown men cry at times when I felt it was perfectly appropriate...
But in the example shown, it was NOT about what was happening to HIM!
07 January 2008
Hillary Cries
(Or maybe ALMOST cries.)
Have you seen the video in it's entirety?
I had only seen the first few seconds of the following:
How's this make you feel?
I think Hillary Rodham is a Socialist and I certainly DO NOT want her to be Commander in Chief, BUT...
I understand exactly what's goin' on here and I feel sorry for her.
Have you ever been so tired you couldn't sleep when you tried?
You lay down in a perfectly good bed with several hours to really, really sleep...
knowing you MUST sleep in order to perform the way you need to,
and you nod off, then wake up... nod off, then wake up, never getting the restful sleep you need so badly. How long are her work days? How many days in a row has she worked without a day to kick back and do absolutely nothin'? I'm bettin' it's been months.
I think it all changed about the time I wrote this post, and she realized she just might not have the election ladled to her with a Silver Spoon. Worry about how to deal with someone who might steal a huge block of votes you thought you could take for granted would certainly add to your sleep problems.
Campaigning for President has to be brutal. Like our more strenuous military schools, it's a good indicator for how someone would perform during crisis time.
I feel sorry for her, but politics ain't pinball.
What if she's faced with a "Missiles of October" situation?
There'll be no time for tears then.
Have you seen the video in it's entirety?
I had only seen the first few seconds of the following:
How's this make you feel?
I think Hillary Rodham is a Socialist and I certainly DO NOT want her to be Commander in Chief, BUT...
I understand exactly what's goin' on here and I feel sorry for her.
Have you ever been so tired you couldn't sleep when you tried?
You lay down in a perfectly good bed with several hours to really, really sleep...
knowing you MUST sleep in order to perform the way you need to,
and you nod off, then wake up... nod off, then wake up, never getting the restful sleep you need so badly. How long are her work days? How many days in a row has she worked without a day to kick back and do absolutely nothin'? I'm bettin' it's been months.
I think it all changed about the time I wrote this post, and she realized she just might not have the election ladled to her with a Silver Spoon. Worry about how to deal with someone who might steal a huge block of votes you thought you could take for granted would certainly add to your sleep problems.
Campaigning for President has to be brutal. Like our more strenuous military schools, it's a good indicator for how someone would perform during crisis time.
I feel sorry for her, but politics ain't pinball.
What if she's faced with a "Missiles of October" situation?
There'll be no time for tears then.
Ugly, But That Boy Can Cook!
I don't know if it's because I'm gettin' old, or if I've been at the job too long.
I've become cynical, and it's a shame.
Keeping a medical log is one of the things I wish I had done when I started this job 21 years ago... it'd be interesting now to go back and review the different injuries I've carried to get help.
And that way I could also have kept track of the percentage of people we transport who are responsible, even partially, for their problems.
My gut tells me it's a big percentage:
Drunk driving,
Drug usage and overdoses,
Food Addicts,
Smokers,
and combinations of the above.
The geographical area we cover with our Helicopter Ambulance is experiencing a "Crystal Meth"epidemic. I was not at all surprised to read Nurse William's post on the subject. Check the comment I left there telling him many of us are dealing with the same problem.
The night after leaving that comment we received a request to pick up a 27 year old male at an outlying hospital and take him to the Burn Center. Thirty percent of his body burned, he claimed he was injured trying to put out a fire consuming his pickup.
My immediate thought? "Okay, we'll see!"
Cynical me...
I must admit I was surprised when we got there...
He's pretty normal lookin'. Good meat on his bones, and he has almost all his teeth.
His color is good.
He claims to be a woodworker. He says his truck had over $1,000 of different hardwoods aboard when it caught fire, and he is worried how he will recover from the loss.
We safely transport him to get the help he needs. While my crew finishes their paperwork I'm watching the Doc and Nurses doin' their jobs at this extraordinary facility.
(Wanta talk about heroes? THE FOLKS THAT DO THIS JOB ARE HEROES! It's some of the smelliest, ugliest work in the world, and they have to hurt babies and children in order to heal them.)
The Doc comes out with a quizzical smile, shaking her head. When I say "What?" she says,
"We drew a blood sample on him. Afterward he advised me he's taking Lorcet and says he was told it will make him test positive for Meth."
Me... cynical?
Yeah, but for good reason.
I've become cynical, and it's a shame.
Keeping a medical log is one of the things I wish I had done when I started this job 21 years ago... it'd be interesting now to go back and review the different injuries I've carried to get help.
And that way I could also have kept track of the percentage of people we transport who are responsible, even partially, for their problems.
My gut tells me it's a big percentage:
Drunk driving,
Drug usage and overdoses,
Food Addicts,
Smokers,
and combinations of the above.
The geographical area we cover with our Helicopter Ambulance is experiencing a "Crystal Meth"epidemic. I was not at all surprised to read Nurse William's post on the subject. Check the comment I left there telling him many of us are dealing with the same problem.
The night after leaving that comment we received a request to pick up a 27 year old male at an outlying hospital and take him to the Burn Center. Thirty percent of his body burned, he claimed he was injured trying to put out a fire consuming his pickup.
My immediate thought? "Okay, we'll see!"
Cynical me...
I must admit I was surprised when we got there...
He's pretty normal lookin'. Good meat on his bones, and he has almost all his teeth.
His color is good.
He claims to be a woodworker. He says his truck had over $1,000 of different hardwoods aboard when it caught fire, and he is worried how he will recover from the loss.
We safely transport him to get the help he needs. While my crew finishes their paperwork I'm watching the Doc and Nurses doin' their jobs at this extraordinary facility.
(Wanta talk about heroes? THE FOLKS THAT DO THIS JOB ARE HEROES! It's some of the smelliest, ugliest work in the world, and they have to hurt babies and children in order to heal them.)
The Doc comes out with a quizzical smile, shaking her head. When I say "What?" she says,
"We drew a blood sample on him. Afterward he advised me he's taking Lorcet and says he was told it will make him test positive for Meth."
Me... cynical?
Yeah, but for good reason.
05 January 2008
Another Way To Bend A Helicopter
It's always easy to second guess, but I think this video shows a phenomenon that every basic helicopter student is taught to avoid:
My guess?
I'd bet "settling with power", or more correctly, Vortex Ring State, where the air being pushed downward by the rotor system recirculates around the rotor and becomes accelerated enough that the rotor can no longer push itself upwards using that recirculated air.
Recognized quickly, the disaster is avoidable.
My guess?
I'd bet "settling with power", or more correctly, Vortex Ring State, where the air being pushed downward by the rotor system recirculates around the rotor and becomes accelerated enough that the rotor can no longer push itself upwards using that recirculated air.
Recognized quickly, the disaster is avoidable.
04 January 2008
First, Do No Harm
In my "Perspective" post below I mentioned how easy it is to become frazzled under the "combat" conditions we frequently find ourselves in at scenes.
At scenes we are trying to save lives, so it's best to go slowly and not do something to harm the patient.
At scenes we are trying to save lives, so it's best to go slowly and not do something to harm the patient.
03 January 2008
Do You Read Michael Totten ?
You should.
He's one of the few reporters in Iraq givin' us the straight poop-
"Another young boy came up and gave me a high-five. They often do this to the Marines. Whatever the adults in Fallujah might think of Americans, the kids really do seem to like us.
Eight year olds do not have politics."
Right Michael. But eight year olds reach gun-carrying age pretty quickly, and today's "high-fives" make the future of Iraq look brighter.
It's worth your time to go read Michael's column here.
Correction-
This post was originally titled "Do You Read Michael Yon?"
Two embedded reporters are risking their lives to report the truth in Iraq...
Michaels Yon, and Totten. I got 'em confused.
Punish me.
He's one of the few reporters in Iraq givin' us the straight poop-
"Another young boy came up and gave me a high-five. They often do this to the Marines. Whatever the adults in Fallujah might think of Americans, the kids really do seem to like us.
Eight year olds do not have politics."
Right Michael. But eight year olds reach gun-carrying age pretty quickly, and today's "high-fives" make the future of Iraq look brighter.
It's worth your time to go read Michael's column here.
Correction-
This post was originally titled "Do You Read Michael Yon?"
Two embedded reporters are risking their lives to report the truth in Iraq...
Michaels Yon, and Totten. I got 'em confused.
Punish me.
02 January 2008
Will I Get To Vote My Choice?
Like most, I'm an "issue" voter.My issues in this election are, in this order:
1. Immigration reform... and a resounding NO! to anything that even remotely smells like amnesty.
(We should adopt Mexico's Immigration Policy!)
2. Tax reform. I like what I hear about the "Fair Tax".
3. Second Amendment Rights. (This is really not number 3,
but 2-1/2.)
If you agree that these issues are at the top of your list, the ONLY candidate out there that is making satisfying noises is pictured above. Will he still be a candidate by the time my Primary rolls around?
I hope so.
P.S.
"First Spouse" is also an issue. I shudder to think about having to look at one of the prospective candidate's spouse for 4 years!
01 January 2008
Perspective
It took a while to figure out what was going on... frustrating!
We use the helicopter to save seconds, and here I was wasting minutes trying to find a scene right beneath me!
The call came in- "Your flight is a go for a male victim, trapped beneath the blade of a bulldozer."
... Another of those stupid things we sometimes do when we're in a hurry-
He owned/operated/maintained the machine, and when a crack in the blade needed welding, he was the guy to do it. He lifted the blade the normal way, hydraulically, and since the job would only take a couple minutes, he didn't support it to keep it from falling. You know the rest of the story already don't you? While he was repairing the crack one of the hydraulic hoses burst and the blade fell across his midsection. I don't know what the blade weighed... someone help me... It was a D7 Caterpillar. (Dave, are you out there?)
I know the blade weighed half a ton, maybe a full 2000 pounds. It effectively cut him in half. He was feeling some pain, but was conversing with others. The question was, what would happen when the blade was lifted off his body?
The flight to the scene took all of 8 minutes. I was in contact and coordinating our landing with the scene commander, a municipal policeman.
To him I said, "Okay, let me know when you see or hear me and guide me in."
From him I hear, "Okay, you're over us right now!"
We are flying parallel to an Interstate Highway, but when I looked down, all I could see was the view you see in the above photograph.
I bank hard to the right and say, "Okay, I don't see ya. Let me know when I'm over you again." A few seconds later, at a higher pitch this time: "You're over us right now!"
...And again I'm lookin' at the same scenario... nothin' but trees.
-"Are the lights on your squad car flashing?"
-"Affirmative!"
I take a deep breath and key the radio again- "I don't see ya partner. Where exactly are you?" His answer shows how thought processes sometimes get confused under combat conditions-
"I'm parked right beneath this big Oak Tree!"
Summertime.
Full foliage.
No way I could have seen him through all the leaves.
He was looking through his own eyes only... not trying to imagine what I was seeing.
Most all ambulance districts have GPS units now and they are real lifesavers. Because of them, we don't often go through this agony. But if you ever experience an emergency and are trying to get help quickly, try your best to put yourself in the responder's shoes and give directions accordingly. If possible, know which direction is North/South/East/West.
And I know you're probably wondering...
No, he didn't make it.
31 December 2007
Jay R. Grodner, Attorney at Law
This one takes the cake.
I know Chicago is "Blue", but I also know most folks there are good people... not idiots.
I'm not sure about Jay R. Grodner, Attorney at Law.
Blackfive has the story.
I'd like to use Mr. Grodner's services, and tried to call his business number in downtown Chicago, and in Deerfield, IL.
Surprisingly, both phones have been disconnected!
How's a professional supposed to make any money with no working telephone?!
Need the services of an anti-military Attorney?
Mr. Grodner wants to hear from you too.
You can go to whitepages.com and type in
Jay R. Grodner, Chicago, IL to see what pops up!
I know Chicago is "Blue", but I also know most folks there are good people... not idiots.
I'm not sure about Jay R. Grodner, Attorney at Law.
Blackfive has the story.
I'd like to use Mr. Grodner's services, and tried to call his business number in downtown Chicago, and in Deerfield, IL.
Surprisingly, both phones have been disconnected!
How's a professional supposed to make any money with no working telephone?!
Need the services of an anti-military Attorney?
Mr. Grodner wants to hear from you too.
You can go to whitepages.com and type in
Jay R. Grodner, Chicago, IL to see what pops up!
30 December 2007
29 December 2007
Cobra Accident
I routinely read both the NTSB and FAA accident briefs to see if there's anything I can learn there to help maintain my body temperature at 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.
This report caught my interest because it appeared to involve the "Cobra", an aircraft I flew in Viet Nam.
I was surprised for several reasons...
Cobra?
Mistaken identity!
Fatalities or injuries in the accident?
Not possible!
My question for ya-
Should unmanned aircraft accidents be listed in the same forum as manned aircraft?
This report caught my interest because it appeared to involve the "Cobra", an aircraft I flew in Viet Nam.
I was surprised for several reasons...
Cobra?
Mistaken identity!
Fatalities or injuries in the accident?
Not possible!
My question for ya-
Should unmanned aircraft accidents be listed in the same forum as manned aircraft?
27 December 2007
Terrorist Permutations
Well, the asssassination of Benazir Bhutto is not exactly the way I imagined chaos in Pakistan might unfold more than two years ago, but it's still scary as Hell.
Just keep repeating-
"We are not at war. We are not at war!"
Just keep repeating-
"We are not at war. We are not at war!"
24 December 2007
FLY SOUTHWEST AIRLINES!!
(Tip o' the hat to Powerline.)
I had not heard this story, and that alone bodes well for Southwest Airlines in my book...
They aren't trying to "make hay" with it.
I think it is one of the best feel good stories of the year.
Thank you Southwest Airlines...
Next time Sara Jean and I fly, you'll have our business!
Merry Christmas everyone, and again... please be safe.
I had not heard this story, and that alone bodes well for Southwest Airlines in my book...
They aren't trying to "make hay" with it.
I think it is one of the best feel good stories of the year.
Thank you Southwest Airlines...
Next time Sara Jean and I fly, you'll have our business!
Merry Christmas everyone, and again... please be safe.
22 December 2007
Merry Christmas. Try To Stay Alive.
"You're on standby for an MVA at ******.
I have no further information for you at this time."
A few moments later the phone rings again...
"Your flight is a go, but they now want you to meet them at the hospital there."
That means our ETA is too long for their conditions and they want help with their patient sooner than we can arrive.
We take off on the 19 minute flight. From dispatch-
"I still have no information on your patient."
This ground crew obviously has their hands full.
We arrive at the hospital and my crew makes their way to the ER.
As routine, I shut the engines down, secure the aircraft, and make my way to the ER to assist in whatever way I can. The door to the trauma room is closed. Outside the door in a wheelchair sits a late-20ish woman with two women in scrubs providing moral support. The woman is obviously emotionally distraught.
The trauma room door opens and I hear what sounds like the heart monitor they hooked up to Sara Jean when Big Bubba was about to be born. It is really loud, but since I don't hear a discernible heartbeat I question what I'm hearing.
I recognize the Doctor coming out the door and nod to him. He makes his way to the woman in the wheelchair and says, "We're still doing CPR on him, and I'll continue to do whatever I can to help him."
Family arrives...
It's the woman in the wheelchair's Mom and Dad. Dad is carrying a pumpkin-seed carrier containing a few-months old baby. The woman takes the baby from the pumpkin seed and holds it to her chest, sobbing.
My crew comes out of the room, looks at me and shakes their head. We won't be transporting.
He was 27 years old, helmetless, riding his ATV on the highway. Crossing the centerline and hitting a pickup truck head-on under these conditions is not conducive to good health.
Less than a week before Christmas, he has left behind a widow and a baby that will have absolutely no recollection of him... a tragedy at anytime... a particular tragedy when his death will be associated with a time that should bring joy and happiness.
My "Pitchpull" reading friends...
Please use good sense:
-Seatbelts.
-Helmets on two/four wheelers.
-Stay out from behind the wheel after alcohol consumption.
I'm working three of the next five days. I don't want you horizontal in the back of my BK117!
Be safe everyone.
I have no further information for you at this time."
A few moments later the phone rings again...
"Your flight is a go, but they now want you to meet them at the hospital there."
That means our ETA is too long for their conditions and they want help with their patient sooner than we can arrive.
We take off on the 19 minute flight. From dispatch-
"I still have no information on your patient."
This ground crew obviously has their hands full.
We arrive at the hospital and my crew makes their way to the ER.
As routine, I shut the engines down, secure the aircraft, and make my way to the ER to assist in whatever way I can. The door to the trauma room is closed. Outside the door in a wheelchair sits a late-20ish woman with two women in scrubs providing moral support. The woman is obviously emotionally distraught.
The trauma room door opens and I hear what sounds like the heart monitor they hooked up to Sara Jean when Big Bubba was about to be born. It is really loud, but since I don't hear a discernible heartbeat I question what I'm hearing.
I recognize the Doctor coming out the door and nod to him. He makes his way to the woman in the wheelchair and says, "We're still doing CPR on him, and I'll continue to do whatever I can to help him."
Family arrives...
It's the woman in the wheelchair's Mom and Dad. Dad is carrying a pumpkin-seed carrier containing a few-months old baby. The woman takes the baby from the pumpkin seed and holds it to her chest, sobbing.
My crew comes out of the room, looks at me and shakes their head. We won't be transporting.
He was 27 years old, helmetless, riding his ATV on the highway. Crossing the centerline and hitting a pickup truck head-on under these conditions is not conducive to good health.
Less than a week before Christmas, he has left behind a widow and a baby that will have absolutely no recollection of him... a tragedy at anytime... a particular tragedy when his death will be associated with a time that should bring joy and happiness.
My "Pitchpull" reading friends...
Please use good sense:
-Seatbelts.
-Helmets on two/four wheelers.
-Stay out from behind the wheel after alcohol consumption.
I'm working three of the next five days. I don't want you horizontal in the back of my BK117!
Be safe everyone.
18 December 2007
Sigh... Just Watch
I try to have a positive outlook, you know that. But sometimes it's mighty hard.
Good friend Terry is in Law Enforcement and sent this:
Binary Explosive, New Terrorist Threat,scary Stuff! - Free videos are just a click away
Good friend Terry is in Law Enforcement and sent this:
Binary Explosive, New Terrorist Threat,scary Stuff! - Free videos are just a click away
17 December 2007
Your First Amendment Rights
Time and again we've been told our Constitutional Rights would be denied during the Bush Administration.
Unfortunately, that prediction has turned out to be correct...
How important are your Constitutional rights? Would you be willing to die protecting them? Would you die protecting mine?
The word "HATE" has been used on more than one occasion in comments to this blog. Once the word was used to describe feelings for President Bush. I can't understand that, but those that are feeling that emotion are being affected by it and they have to live with it.
My problem is that these "haters" demand the right to express themselves, while denying the rights of others to point out when they are wrong. Now it has taken a pretty serious step, to almost, (not quite), death threats.
Our higher learning establishments are fortresses of Liberal thinking.
Conservative thought is not welcome. Don't believe it?
Read this article, then tell me you wouldn't feel threatened by Liberals around you.
If "Freedom of Speech" is truly important to you, please take 10 minutes to watch this movie trailer:
I spent 22 years in the ARMY defending the attitude generally attributed to Voltaire-
"I don't agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."
Apparently that attitude only runs within Conservative circles.
MORE-
That George Bush.... what a tyrant!
UPDATE: 18Dec-
A commenter points out, the Princeton emails are fakes!
The professors shown in the movie telling others to STFU are not.
Care to comment on the subject, David Horowitz?
Unfortunately, that prediction has turned out to be correct...
How important are your Constitutional rights? Would you be willing to die protecting them? Would you die protecting mine?
The word "HATE" has been used on more than one occasion in comments to this blog. Once the word was used to describe feelings for President Bush. I can't understand that, but those that are feeling that emotion are being affected by it and they have to live with it.
My problem is that these "haters" demand the right to express themselves, while denying the rights of others to point out when they are wrong. Now it has taken a pretty serious step, to almost, (not quite), death threats.
Our higher learning establishments are fortresses of Liberal thinking.
Conservative thought is not welcome. Don't believe it?
Read this article, then tell me you wouldn't feel threatened by Liberals around you.
If "Freedom of Speech" is truly important to you, please take 10 minutes to watch this movie trailer:
I spent 22 years in the ARMY defending the attitude generally attributed to Voltaire-
"I don't agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."
Apparently that attitude only runs within Conservative circles.
MORE-
That George Bush.... what a tyrant!
UPDATE: 18Dec-
A commenter points out, the Princeton emails are fakes!
The professors shown in the movie telling others to STFU are not.
Care to comment on the subject, David Horowitz?
14 December 2007
13 December 2007
Traffic Cameras
Remember this post?
Someone else had the same idea, only this guy was a man of action!
Tipped once again by Instapundit.
Someone else had the same idea, only this guy was a man of action!
Tipped once again by Instapundit.
I Am Bud Light??
I found this while visiting John's Blog.
Like John, I disagree with the premise, 'cause I don't drink "Light Beer" of any color, strength, or title. It's real beer with added distilled water... if you want light beer, buy a 2 liter bottle of Club Soda and add your own water to real beer!
As to the description of my "beer character"...
I can't be objective, so you'll have to ask a drinking buddy. ( A few stop by "Pitchpull" now and then!)
| You Are Bud Light |
 You're not fussy when it comes to beer. If someone hands it to you, you'll drink it. In fact, you don't understand beer snobbery at all. It all tastes the same once you're drunk! You're an enthusiastic drinker, and you can often be found at your neighborhood bar. You're pretty good at holding your liquor too - you've had lots of experience. |
12 December 2007
The Name Game
My Mother's maiden name is Schreiber.
She gets angry when I tell folks that name means "horse thief" in German...
maybe because I'm lying.
I've always been fascinated with names... Schreiber's a simple one. It's an easy process to see "scriber" in the name and guess it's origins.
Other names that end in "er" are obvious... "Barber", "Carpenter", "Fisher".
Others were more difficult and took a little research:
Fletcher,
Chandler,
Frobisher?
Last night I came home to find Sara Jean watching the wonderful "How Green Was My Valley" on TCM. My ears perked as I heard "Collier". The context in which it was used gave me a clue.
Got an interesting or unusual name?
You may find it at the bottom of the page here.
(The -ters surprised me... Baxter, Brewster, Webster.)
I have a couple friends named "Fleener".
That one appears to be a mystery.
She gets angry when I tell folks that name means "horse thief" in German...
maybe because I'm lying.
I've always been fascinated with names... Schreiber's a simple one. It's an easy process to see "scriber" in the name and guess it's origins.
Other names that end in "er" are obvious... "Barber", "Carpenter", "Fisher".
Others were more difficult and took a little research:
Fletcher,
Chandler,
Frobisher?
Last night I came home to find Sara Jean watching the wonderful "How Green Was My Valley" on TCM. My ears perked as I heard "Collier". The context in which it was used gave me a clue.
Got an interesting or unusual name?
You may find it at the bottom of the page here.
(The -ters surprised me... Baxter, Brewster, Webster.)
I have a couple friends named "Fleener".
That one appears to be a mystery.
10 December 2007
Alaska Helicopter EMS Accident- Update
It's a BK117.
They have found the body of the Nurse, and pieces of the aircraft.
It doesn't look good.
They have found the body of the Nurse, and pieces of the aircraft.
It doesn't look good.
Relationships- The Care and Feeding Of,
I wanta talk about two-way streets... or what OUGHT to be two-way streets.
I admit it freely... I'm a "Rube" at heart!
Go back in the archives of this blog and read some of the stories of my childhood and you'll learn I was perfectly happy staying close to my Central Indiana home. When I was drafted in 1966 I had been out of the State only three or four times. Away from home, all I could think of was getting back... back into my comfort zone.
Of course Uncle Sam changed all that with the draft. He took me away from family, friends, and neighbors. To the degree I could I tried to maintain my close relationships. And the way I did that, mostly, was via letter-writing.
It's a lost art now,mostly because of email but part of the blame lies with cell phones too.
I mourn the loss.
I used to LOVE receiving letters! You could open a letter and sprint through it's contents looking for any surprising or important news, then go back again, (and again, and again) and re-read the words... savoring them, looking for subtleties.
And of course, letters that came from someone REALLY special generally included even more... a scent... and wonderful reminder of times past and times to come. (Mail Call in my early ARMY training was done the way we've all seen it portrayed in movies... A group of GI's gathered around the Company clerk calling out the names and passing the mail to the recipients... AFTER sniffing the letter if it appeared to be from a wife/girlfriend. If the clerk oohed and aahed about the letter, we all smiled and shared in the warm feeling, knowing someone had taken the time to put pen to paper, then scent the letter and get it on the way to their special correspondent.)
I loved letters from home. I knew that if I wrote, the recipient was more likely to write back and answer questions or respond to my comments. So I wrote LOTS of letters!
I wrote to family.
I wrote to girlfriends.
I wrote to buddies.
Girlfriends ALWAYS wrote back. Family would frequently write back. Buddies... not so much. Mostly, guys would wait a period of time, then they'd call.
To me that was cheating. I expended time and effort to gather pen/paper/envelope/stamp and send my thoughts in a material way. Their communcation came in such a way that when the phone was returned to the receiver, all I had left was the memory......No goin' back to review the correspondence. Nothing to save and re-read later, maybe YEARS later and be reminded of what was going on at that time in my life.
I resented it a lot!
I don't know why, but most guys are terrible about communicating! I've been given lots of excuses to explain this fact:
"I can't spell.
My writing looks like 'chicken-scratches'.
I can't express myself well.
I don't have time, (and the corollary... never think about it when I have the time.")
What a bunch of crap!
But I finally learned the rules of the game and gave up trying to change people.
If I wrote you a nice long letter and you returned my communication via telephone, our communicating was over until you called again to inquire about me. No more letters... I won't waste my time.
(An extension of this rule applied to trips home during leave too... if I drove 700+ miles to come home, surely you could drive ten minutes to shake my hand personally, right?)
So now, in another compartment in my life, I'm bein' reminded that relationships are not always 50/50...
I know that and accept it. I've had relationships where I put out 70% versus 30, but when I needed that 30% friend to be there... they were there in Spades! That certainly makes the 70% expenditure worthwhile.
But what if the relationship is 90/10? What if it's 95/5? At what point do you say to yourself, "I'm bein' used here, and I'm not gettin' back the interest I oughta be gettin' on this investment?"
And that's not a rhetorical question, folks.
I really would like your input on the care and feeding of relationships!
Thanks in advance for your response!
09 December 2007
Compare and Contrast-
Watch out guys...
More and more women are becoming active in the helicopter industry.
I couldn't be more pleased!
(I've added Maggie and Stacy to my Blogroll.)
More and more women are becoming active in the helicopter industry.
I couldn't be more pleased!
(I've added Maggie and Stacy to my Blogroll.)
08 December 2007
Just... Gone.
It's another unfortunate reminder-
Try as hard as we might, the job will always entail a certain amount of risk.
Try as hard as we might, the job will always entail a certain amount of risk.
07 December 2007
An Open Letter To NBC
Dear Sirs,
I am aware of your stance against running the ads submitted to you by Freedom Watch.
I have had my fill of your anti-troop, anti-American attitude.
If I could have NBC, CNBC, and MSNBC removed from my list of available channels, I would. Denying my ability to do that, I'll set up a new "favorites list" and omit them there.
Folks, you owe the country an apology!
Greybeard
Don't know what I'm talking about? Go and read about these shameful people HERE!
UPDATED 8 December-
In the face of considerable outrage at their censorship, NBC retreats!
Further update, 9 Dec-
Nope, no bias at all at NBC!
Tip 'O the hat to Instapundit.
I am aware of your stance against running the ads submitted to you by Freedom Watch.
I have had my fill of your anti-troop, anti-American attitude.
If I could have NBC, CNBC, and MSNBC removed from my list of available channels, I would. Denying my ability to do that, I'll set up a new "favorites list" and omit them there.
Folks, you owe the country an apology!
Greybeard
Don't know what I'm talking about? Go and read about these shameful people HERE!
UPDATED 8 December-
In the face of considerable outrage at their censorship, NBC retreats!
Further update, 9 Dec-
Nope, no bias at all at NBC!
Tip 'O the hat to Instapundit.
Hillary Rodham
Oh... and Clinton, of course...
when it's to her advantage to remind you.
I've intended for some time to write about HRC and how interesting it is gonna be now that Obama and Oprah have hooked up.
The "inevitability" of Hillary's candidacy has vanished, like the puff of smoke in a magicians act.
Then I saw Ann's post and realized I could not do better.
--Added, from Synova in the comments:
"Being told what to think by men?
Is that any worse than being told what to think by Jane Fonda and subject to abuse if I have my *own* ideas?
Hillary is evil, not stupid.
Jane Fonda is stupid."
Oh my!
when it's to her advantage to remind you.
I've intended for some time to write about HRC and how interesting it is gonna be now that Obama and Oprah have hooked up.
The "inevitability" of Hillary's candidacy has vanished, like the puff of smoke in a magicians act.
Then I saw Ann's post and realized I could not do better.
--Added, from Synova in the comments:
"Being told what to think by men?
Is that any worse than being told what to think by Jane Fonda and subject to abuse if I have my *own* ideas?
Hillary is evil, not stupid.
Jane Fonda is stupid."
Oh my!
Curiosity
Of course he said nothing about it.
I suppose he figured the storm would come soon enough, and wanted to put it off as long as possible.
We'd had it about a month...
This was back in the day when video cameras still looked like something the guys from "Channel 2" carried around... it was substantial in size. Even on sale it had cost a weeks pay.
Our old video camera had died, so I replaced it with this one...
1Lux meant it would take video in VERY dark conditions, and it had lots of other bells and whistles. I hoped I (and he) would learn how to use them all.
Heading out the door to attend an event I wanted to record, I found the camera in Big Bubba's bedroom. That wasn't out of the ordinary because we had already seen glimmers of his talent in the audio/visual realm and were hoping he'd experiment like a young Steven Spielberg, right here under our roof. But something looked a little odd...
The viewfinder was gone.
Gone... as in non-existent-make-the-camera-USELESS gone!
"Uhh son, what happened to the camera?"
"I just wanted to see how it worked."
Uh-oh.
This wasn't the kind of self-educating I was hoping for.
I wanted "M. Night Shyamalan", NOT "Big Bubba, video camera repairman."
You've probably anticipated the rest of the story-
Getting the viewfinder fixed was 25% the cost of the camera in the first place. But it was almost certainly worth it...
He got very good at writing/producing/directing his own productions, and I don't recall his curiosity getting the best of him again.
I suppose he figured the storm would come soon enough, and wanted to put it off as long as possible.
We'd had it about a month...
This was back in the day when video cameras still looked like something the guys from "Channel 2" carried around... it was substantial in size. Even on sale it had cost a weeks pay.
Our old video camera had died, so I replaced it with this one...
1Lux meant it would take video in VERY dark conditions, and it had lots of other bells and whistles. I hoped I (and he) would learn how to use them all.
Heading out the door to attend an event I wanted to record, I found the camera in Big Bubba's bedroom. That wasn't out of the ordinary because we had already seen glimmers of his talent in the audio/visual realm and were hoping he'd experiment like a young Steven Spielberg, right here under our roof. But something looked a little odd...
The viewfinder was gone.
Gone... as in non-existent-make-the-camera-USELESS gone!
"Uhh son, what happened to the camera?"
"I just wanted to see how it worked."
Uh-oh.
This wasn't the kind of self-educating I was hoping for.
I wanted "M. Night Shyamalan", NOT "Big Bubba, video camera repairman."
You've probably anticipated the rest of the story-
Getting the viewfinder fixed was 25% the cost of the camera in the first place. But it was almost certainly worth it...
He got very good at writing/producing/directing his own productions, and I don't recall his curiosity getting the best of him again.
04 December 2007
Where, Oh Where, Has My Little Bomb Gone?
There's a beach in the shadow of that lighthouse where I've spent many wonderful afternoons. There once was a campground just a few hundred feet away where my parents would park their RV.
Now I'm surprised to find there is a chunk of Plutonium submerged within shouting distance of the spot where I sunbathed, drank daiquiris, and figured a nuclear device was the least of my worries.
I spent several months in Savannah Georgia in 1968 while attending ARMY flight school. I liked it so much I came back and lived there while teaching others to fly helicopters from late '69 to 1972. In those three years I never heard anything about the mid-air collision that resulted in the dropping of the device.
Amazing.
The Discovery Channel is presently running a documentary on attempts to find the bomb using technology that was not available in earlier searches. It's an interesting story. Let's pray they find it.
02 December 2007
MSNBC Objectivity-
Subtle, huh?
More of this, please!
More Olby!
More Erin Burnett!
How low can their ratings go??!!
30 November 2007
Rooftop Pads, Good Stories, and Lousy Reporting
One of my favorite stories used to be told by a guy that became a close friend after he recovered from a serious heart attack.
I flew him to the Cardiac center in our old Bell LongRanger days. He caught a glimpse of the rooftop helipad as I flew past it downwind, and said to himself, "That thing looks like a postage stamp! I hope this S.O.B. is good!"
(Our flight gave him five good years until "the BIG one" took his life.)
Saw this blog post today and found it quite interesting... thought you might find it interesting too.
It pays Kandy and me a supreme compliment, and reinforces
what I've said before about the media. (Links are all out of date at that post, but you'll get the idea.)
28 November 2007
Gentle Evisceration
I had never heard of Avi Lewis.
From reading the comments to this video, I understand he's a Canadian media person.
I certainly had heard of Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I think she may be the bravest person on the face of the earth.
Watching the video will take just over 9 minutes, but will educate you in ways that may surprise you!
From reading the comments to this video, I understand he's a Canadian media person.
I certainly had heard of Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I think she may be the bravest person on the face of the earth.
Watching the video will take just over 9 minutes, but will educate you in ways that may surprise you!
26 November 2007
Big Bubba's Excellent Adventure-
Whirlwind.
Whoosh, he's here. Whoosh, he's gone.
I'll take whatever time he can offer with no complaints.
He wanted to be home for Thanksgiving.
He's homesick, partly for the oddest of reasons... the weather in Mesa makes him feel a little like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day". It's much the same, day after day. BB was actually hoping for chilly, gray, overcast days. A little snow or rain too please... that'd be gravy on those mashed potatoes!
Thanksgiving morning I got off the killer shift I wrote about earlier, and came home to grab a couple hours shuteye. BB boarded a USAir A319 in Phoenix... temperature 84 degrees F.
When he called as the airplane was taxiing to the terminal in Bigtown I had done the addition:
Collecting his bags- 30 minutes.
Walking to the train- another 10 minutes.
Riding the train to our meeting point-90 minutes.
Total- 2 hours, 10 minutes.
My drive to meet him at the station would take just over an hour, so I showered and got a couple cups of Arabica in me. After an hour, while Sara Jean began the finishing touches on our Turkey-Day feast, I headed out solo to pick him up. My timing was almost perfect... the train pulled into the station 10 minutes after my arrival. It was spitting fine grains of snow and was 34 degrees as BB loaded his bags into the car.
What pleasant changes we are seeing in this young son of ours. He has always been considerate of others, but the issues he must contend with now are more serious-
One of his best friends is having serious personal issues. It's gratifying to hear him talk about life and the important things he faces, and hear how he weighs both sides of an issue carefully. We know he'll still make mistakes along the way, but the mistakes he makes won't be because he hasn't given them considerable thought.
We open the door at home to that wondrous smell... and of course, Sara Jean's tearful welcome.
BB hasn't eaten, so he is ravenous. We are like Jewish parents... it's wonderful to see him pack it all in!
He's beginning to learn the hard lesson I learned when I first left home in 1966- you can't do it all. Over the weekend he is selective about who he visits.
I'm proud of his choices... an invalid neighbor that has loved him like family... an older cousin with Alzheimers who has always known how special he is.
Some peers are aware he is home. If they want to see him, they can drive the few minutes to visit with him here under our roof.
Sunday comes too soon.
Traffic to the airport will be heavy. Gettin' through security will take longer than normal. We leave 'way before necessary so an accident or flat tire along the way won't be a catastrophe. We stop along the way and get a Big Bubba favorite... White Castles... there's nothing like 'em in Phoenix!
We get to the airport two hours before his flight is scheduled to depart. Hugs and kisses are not so sad this time... he's coming home for Christmas, and he's bringing Desi with him! It'll be fascinating to see how long it takes Lucy to become comfortable with Desi again... the dynamics of their relationship have changed... this is HER house now!
I tell BB we'll stay near the airport until he's at the departure gate... just to make sure there are no glitches. We are 15 minutes away from the airport when Sara Jean's cell phone rings. He has made his way through security quicker than we expected, but when he arrives at the gate there is a BIG GLITCH... the agent informs him the flight is overbooked and he may not get a seat on the airplane. I know and understand why the carriers do this... But Thanksgiving weekend?!!
We stop off at a safe place and wait for more information.
An hour later... he has a boarding pass! They are loading the airplane.
Sara Jean and I resume our trip home.
Thirty minutes later her phone rings again... the airplane has a flat tire. They are trying to find a replacement tire. BB and the other passengers have been off-loaded and are stuck until the tire is fixed.
Long story short- they fix the tire and BB gets home 3 hours later than expected, but nevertheless he is home safely. The knowledge that many of the folks on that airplane missed their connecting flights on Thanksgiving weekend makes me sad... for them, and for the USAir support people that have to deal with the (rightfully) irate passengers. What a mess.
But once again I'm amazed at the facts of all this:
BB paid less than $350 for his round-trip tickets.
It's 3400 miles from our home to Phoenix and back. Driving round-trip in a car getting 25 miles per gallon would have cost approximately $340, and that's not counting the overnight stay, both going, and coming.
It seems to me that flying, in spite of its surprises and hassles, is still quite a bargain!
21 November 2007
What Is It About Pilots?
... Or maybe it's just "Macho" at work?
First, keep this in mind-
We've just changed the schedule at our base. We're trying 7-on, 7-off. It makes for a long work-week, but the time off is great!
My story begins as I have received a call late in my shift on the last of 8 days in a row... (I'm repaying one of the "trade days" I needed to go to Hawaii that I spoke about in an earlier post).
It's been a butt-kicker. When we talked about this 7/7 schedule I forgot there can be days when you strap the BK to your back and pretty much keep it there until quittin' time. I flew 5.6 hours yesterday, and have flown 3.3 as the phone rang for this flight.
This week has been like that. I was REALLY lookin' forward to time to go home when this call came in!
I sigh, check weather, and agree to take the flight. It's to a University... a teaching hospital 130 miles away. When I get there I'm gonna need some kerosene to make it back home. I ask dispatch to check and see if my memory is correct... that my landing helipad has fuel available right there. When they verify it does, I ask them to call and see if someone can meet me and make sure I pump the fuel safely.
This hospital is known for its helipad rules...
Don't turn the tail rotor toward the building...
Don't hot-offload unless your patient is tryin' to die immediately.
The rule I have always liked best is... "Sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
But I decide to be a good boy. I land near the BK based at the hospital, then snuggle up close to the fuel pump so we don't have to pull the hose too far. My med-crew stays aboard until I pull the throttles on the engines and stop the rotor with the rotor brake. We unload the stretcher and my crew gets on their way to help the patient. A guy wearing a flight suit with Captain's shoulder boards comes out to the fuel pit and I walk over and introduce myself. He's younger than me, but no Spring Chicken. He begins to show me how to operate the fuel system, and together we pull the hose off the hose reel. At this point he says, "By the way, we NORMALLY land East-West on this pad".
His BK IS in fact pointed West. Mine is pointed North. I specifically pointed it that way for safety... to keep anyone departing or approaching the aircraft as far away from the tail-rotor as possible.
Remember now... I'm now at 8 days in a row, and I'm damned tired.
I bite my tongue and say, "Please tell me what is unsafe about the way I parked."
He's taken aback a little, but after a moment's hesitation says, "Well, it's just the way we normally do it around here."
I'll ask you... Do you think he was trying to establish a pecking order?
I did.
So I quit biting my tongue and said, "I'll tell ya this, partner...
Right now I don't give a flyin' flip about what you do around here normally. I landed that way because I felt it was the safest way to land. If you can show me how that's not the case, I'll be glad to do it your way."
Pecking order firmly established, we finished pumping my fuel and went to his quarters where he brewed a pot of coffee and we got to know one another better.
He's actually a nice guy... a National Guard Apache pilot.
Just needs a little social trainin', that's all.
First, keep this in mind-
We've just changed the schedule at our base. We're trying 7-on, 7-off. It makes for a long work-week, but the time off is great!
My story begins as I have received a call late in my shift on the last of 8 days in a row... (I'm repaying one of the "trade days" I needed to go to Hawaii that I spoke about in an earlier post).
It's been a butt-kicker. When we talked about this 7/7 schedule I forgot there can be days when you strap the BK to your back and pretty much keep it there until quittin' time. I flew 5.6 hours yesterday, and have flown 3.3 as the phone rang for this flight.
This week has been like that. I was REALLY lookin' forward to time to go home when this call came in!
I sigh, check weather, and agree to take the flight. It's to a University... a teaching hospital 130 miles away. When I get there I'm gonna need some kerosene to make it back home. I ask dispatch to check and see if my memory is correct... that my landing helipad has fuel available right there. When they verify it does, I ask them to call and see if someone can meet me and make sure I pump the fuel safely.
This hospital is known for its helipad rules...
Don't turn the tail rotor toward the building...
Don't hot-offload unless your patient is tryin' to die immediately.
The rule I have always liked best is... "Sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
But I decide to be a good boy. I land near the BK based at the hospital, then snuggle up close to the fuel pump so we don't have to pull the hose too far. My med-crew stays aboard until I pull the throttles on the engines and stop the rotor with the rotor brake. We unload the stretcher and my crew gets on their way to help the patient. A guy wearing a flight suit with Captain's shoulder boards comes out to the fuel pit and I walk over and introduce myself. He's younger than me, but no Spring Chicken. He begins to show me how to operate the fuel system, and together we pull the hose off the hose reel. At this point he says, "By the way, we NORMALLY land East-West on this pad".
His BK IS in fact pointed West. Mine is pointed North. I specifically pointed it that way for safety... to keep anyone departing or approaching the aircraft as far away from the tail-rotor as possible.
Remember now... I'm now at 8 days in a row, and I'm damned tired.
I bite my tongue and say, "Please tell me what is unsafe about the way I parked."
He's taken aback a little, but after a moment's hesitation says, "Well, it's just the way we normally do it around here."
I'll ask you... Do you think he was trying to establish a pecking order?
I did.
So I quit biting my tongue and said, "I'll tell ya this, partner...
Right now I don't give a flyin' flip about what you do around here normally. I landed that way because I felt it was the safest way to land. If you can show me how that's not the case, I'll be glad to do it your way."
Pecking order firmly established, we finished pumping my fuel and went to his quarters where he brewed a pot of coffee and we got to know one another better.
He's actually a nice guy... a National Guard Apache pilot.
Just needs a little social trainin', that's all.
19 November 2007
Sara Jean, Thoroughbred
I was bragging about my wife again, trying to describe her to a fellow pilot, so I asked my paramedic-
"Hey Dave, how would you describe Sara Jean?"
"Stunning".
And that's no exaggeration. One of these days I promise to tell ya the story of how we met. It's a sordid, but interesting tale.
Seventy inches tall, blonde, and a face that renders some men speechless...
I love her more now than when I met her.
We've been together 27 years. I never figured I'd be able to stay with one woman that long. Part of the reason our relationship has worked is that I still find her stunning. The other part is that I've matured, and realized I had to put some work into patching cracks between us for our foundation to remain strong. Knowing she is doin' the same has made that job much easier.
I know I'm demanding, and a hard guy to live with. She's sometimes hard to live with too, but for different reasons...
she's a thoroughbred.
As I've written, on our way home from Hawaii we stopped for two days at Big Bubba's apartment in Mesa, Arizona. We wanted the chance to visit with him alone, (all three of us had made the Hawaii trip, remember), and we knew we'd need the time to wind down and regain our balance.
"Winding down" has a different meaning for Sara Jean than most of us...
Windows need cleaning? Carpets need shampooing or spot removal?
How'd this sink get in this shape?!
It's one of the things I love about her. She keeps an immaculate house, wakes me with a cuppa Joe, feeds me too much. In my wife alone there's enough energy to power a town of 1000 or so.
So I'm sitting at Big Bubba's computer... blogging, I think.
From behind me I hear, "You're gonna kill me."
I turned to look and she's serious... that beautiful face is ashen.
"No honey, nothing can be that bad. I'm NOT gonna kill you."
"Yes you are. I've done something terrible!"
Her hands are behind her back. She brings them around front, waist high, and has to cup them to keep the contents from falling to the floor. In those cupped hands she has what looks to be scraps of paper with something else mixed all through them. It looks most like the nest some exotic bird would build.
"What is it?"
"Your Datebook. I washed your clothes and forgot to take it out of your pocket."
Yeah, she's stunning alright... I'm exceedingly stunned!
It's November, so what she has done is completely destroy 11 months worth of contact names, phone numbers, and addresses. Tax info, combinations to various push-button door locks, dates that I needed to remember for whatever reason... now literally in tatters.
She can't help it... she felt she had to be doing something,
AND THOSE SHORTS DID NEED WASHING!
I bet I have the cleanest Datebook in the country!
"Hey Dave, how would you describe Sara Jean?"
"Stunning".
And that's no exaggeration. One of these days I promise to tell ya the story of how we met. It's a sordid, but interesting tale.
Seventy inches tall, blonde, and a face that renders some men speechless...
I love her more now than when I met her.
We've been together 27 years. I never figured I'd be able to stay with one woman that long. Part of the reason our relationship has worked is that I still find her stunning. The other part is that I've matured, and realized I had to put some work into patching cracks between us for our foundation to remain strong. Knowing she is doin' the same has made that job much easier.
I know I'm demanding, and a hard guy to live with. She's sometimes hard to live with too, but for different reasons...
she's a thoroughbred.
As I've written, on our way home from Hawaii we stopped for two days at Big Bubba's apartment in Mesa, Arizona. We wanted the chance to visit with him alone, (all three of us had made the Hawaii trip, remember), and we knew we'd need the time to wind down and regain our balance.
"Winding down" has a different meaning for Sara Jean than most of us...
Windows need cleaning? Carpets need shampooing or spot removal?
How'd this sink get in this shape?!
It's one of the things I love about her. She keeps an immaculate house, wakes me with a cuppa Joe, feeds me too much. In my wife alone there's enough energy to power a town of 1000 or so.
So I'm sitting at Big Bubba's computer... blogging, I think.
From behind me I hear, "You're gonna kill me."
I turned to look and she's serious... that beautiful face is ashen.
"No honey, nothing can be that bad. I'm NOT gonna kill you."
"Yes you are. I've done something terrible!"
Her hands are behind her back. She brings them around front, waist high, and has to cup them to keep the contents from falling to the floor. In those cupped hands she has what looks to be scraps of paper with something else mixed all through them. It looks most like the nest some exotic bird would build.
"What is it?"
"Your Datebook. I washed your clothes and forgot to take it out of your pocket."
Yeah, she's stunning alright... I'm exceedingly stunned!
It's November, so what she has done is completely destroy 11 months worth of contact names, phone numbers, and addresses. Tax info, combinations to various push-button door locks, dates that I needed to remember for whatever reason... now literally in tatters.
She can't help it... she felt she had to be doing something,
AND THOSE SHORTS DID NEED WASHING!
I bet I have the cleanest Datebook in the country!
17 November 2007
"Love Is In The Air"
A song I love,
A handsome guy,
A cute gal,
A classic Cadillac convertible,and,
A skywriting Stearman...
What's not to like?
A handsome guy,
A cute gal,
A classic Cadillac convertible,and,
A skywriting Stearman...
What's not to like?
15 November 2007
Go! Stop! Go!
I wish I had a quarter every time this has happened in the two decades I've done this job...
Dispatch calls-
"Weather check for P-Ville, please... it's a scene flight."
I check closely 'cause I drove through schmutz coming to work.
"Yeah, I can do P-Ville."
"Okay, you're on standby for an MVA (Motor Vehicle Accident) on Interstate ## just North of P-Ville."
We all dash to the John as a precaution, then wait for the phone to ring again, which will either cancel us or force us to push the "pause" button on the TIVO.
And we wait.
And we wait some more.
My Paramedic says "this is taking too long, we're not goin' anywhere" just as the phone rings...
"Your flight is a GO."
We quickly move to the aircraft, get both engines started and take off. We've just gotten high enough to see above the treeline when Dispatch crackles over the radio...
"Your flight is cancelled."
I make one circuit of the traffic pattern and land.
Bein' cancelled is aggravating for several reasons.
I'ts expensive... starting the aircraft is the hardest thing you can do to it. I just shocked and expanded some pretty exotic metals within two combustion chambers, waking two engines and bringing them from ambient temperature to 700 degrees centigrade in just a few seconds. There are limits on the number of times you can do that before you have to throw out the old exotic metal and buy new exotic metal. $$$$$!
Starting the engines costs money. I just did it for no revenue.
Over the intercom to my crew I wonder out loud...
"Okay, how long do you think it'll be before we are called for a flight to the hospital at P-Ville?"
Scene flights are cancelled for several reasons...
-Upon arrival at the scene, the ground crew finds everyone is okay.
-The patient(s) is/are DRT, (Dead Right There. We don't use the helicopter to transport corpses.)
-Our ETA is excessive. Sometimes it's quicker to transport the patient to the closest hospital for evaluation where the decision may be made to call us again. This happens OFTEN!
An hour passes. The phone rings. I pick up the receiver and don't even give our dispatcher a chance to speak...
"Lemme guess... we're goin' to P-Ville for the victim of an MVA."
And my dispatcher laughs out loud.
I guess there's comfort in things that never change.
Dispatch calls-
"Weather check for P-Ville, please... it's a scene flight."
I check closely 'cause I drove through schmutz coming to work.
"Yeah, I can do P-Ville."
"Okay, you're on standby for an MVA (Motor Vehicle Accident) on Interstate ## just North of P-Ville."
We all dash to the John as a precaution, then wait for the phone to ring again, which will either cancel us or force us to push the "pause" button on the TIVO.
And we wait.
And we wait some more.
My Paramedic says "this is taking too long, we're not goin' anywhere" just as the phone rings...
"Your flight is a GO."
We quickly move to the aircraft, get both engines started and take off. We've just gotten high enough to see above the treeline when Dispatch crackles over the radio...
"Your flight is cancelled."
I make one circuit of the traffic pattern and land.
Bein' cancelled is aggravating for several reasons.
I'ts expensive... starting the aircraft is the hardest thing you can do to it. I just shocked and expanded some pretty exotic metals within two combustion chambers, waking two engines and bringing them from ambient temperature to 700 degrees centigrade in just a few seconds. There are limits on the number of times you can do that before you have to throw out the old exotic metal and buy new exotic metal. $$$$$!
Starting the engines costs money. I just did it for no revenue.
Over the intercom to my crew I wonder out loud...
"Okay, how long do you think it'll be before we are called for a flight to the hospital at P-Ville?"
Scene flights are cancelled for several reasons...
-Upon arrival at the scene, the ground crew finds everyone is okay.
-The patient(s) is/are DRT, (Dead Right There. We don't use the helicopter to transport corpses.)
-Our ETA is excessive. Sometimes it's quicker to transport the patient to the closest hospital for evaluation where the decision may be made to call us again. This happens OFTEN!
An hour passes. The phone rings. I pick up the receiver and don't even give our dispatcher a chance to speak...
"Lemme guess... we're goin' to P-Ville for the victim of an MVA."
And my dispatcher laughs out loud.
I guess there's comfort in things that never change.
13 November 2007
Cooldown Lap
Please forgive me for taking a breather.
I promise I'll fill ya in on the rest of the Hawaii experience, but I'm still trying to catch my breath...
We got home from the journey Midnight Sunday. Monday morning found me headed to the airport to fly with a student in the R22, then meet with an old Viet Nam Cobra jock that wants my help purchasing a new R44. No rest for the wicked.
This A.M., (Tuesday) is "payback" time. When we've used up our vacation days, we take days off by finding someone willing to "trade" days. Friend Dan made my Hawaii trek possible by covering for me, but needed me to reimburse his trade today. I rolled outta bed this morning and had to look around to see if the bed was in Hawaii, Mesa, AZ, or home... took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I finally hung up my ARMY flight suit and received my final printout of flight time, I had accrued exactly 2,999 hours in various iterations of the Huey... UH-1B,C,D,H, and M.
I've written before about my love for the old, stable machine.
A comment to a post below this one led me to this Huey Pilot's Blog...
I'm always interested in reading about the distaff side of flying, and I'm particularly interested in reading about Elay's experience flying my favorite old bird. She's a new addition to my blogroll.
And "The Hits Keep Comin'!"...
Another Blogroll addition will expose you to flyin' fast and flyin' low/slow simultaneously.
Kandy and Darren are a husband/wife team.
Kandy flies EMS down in TX in the same gas hog I fly. Darren flies even bigger gas hogs, both military and civilian.
Go give 'em a look!
UPDATED:
Upon further reading of Kandy and Darren's blog I find she flies the EC135... a newer, sexier, slightly smaller aircraft than the BK117
I "yank and bank" in.
And when I've caught my breath, I'll finish the Hawaii diary.
Thanks for bein' out there!
I promise I'll fill ya in on the rest of the Hawaii experience, but I'm still trying to catch my breath...
We got home from the journey Midnight Sunday. Monday morning found me headed to the airport to fly with a student in the R22, then meet with an old Viet Nam Cobra jock that wants my help purchasing a new R44. No rest for the wicked.
This A.M., (Tuesday) is "payback" time. When we've used up our vacation days, we take days off by finding someone willing to "trade" days. Friend Dan made my Hawaii trek possible by covering for me, but needed me to reimburse his trade today. I rolled outta bed this morning and had to look around to see if the bed was in Hawaii, Mesa, AZ, or home... took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I finally hung up my ARMY flight suit and received my final printout of flight time, I had accrued exactly 2,999 hours in various iterations of the Huey... UH-1B,C,D,H, and M.
I've written before about my love for the old, stable machine.
A comment to a post below this one led me to this Huey Pilot's Blog...
I'm always interested in reading about the distaff side of flying, and I'm particularly interested in reading about Elay's experience flying my favorite old bird. She's a new addition to my blogroll.
And "The Hits Keep Comin'!"...
Another Blogroll addition will expose you to flyin' fast and flyin' low/slow simultaneously.
Kandy and Darren are a husband/wife team.
Kandy flies EMS down in TX in the same gas hog I fly. Darren flies even bigger gas hogs, both military and civilian.
Go give 'em a look!
UPDATED:
Upon further reading of Kandy and Darren's blog I find she flies the EC135... a newer, sexier, slightly smaller aircraft than the BK117
I "yank and bank" in.
And when I've caught my breath, I'll finish the Hawaii diary.
Thanks for bein' out there!
12 November 2007
On The Ground
By the time we start the helicopter to launch on a scene flight, most of the heavy lifting has already been done by Police, Firefighters, and ground EMS Crews. I'm in awe of the job they do, and uncomfortable with the attention we get because our part of this work is truly "batting cleanup".
I was "Google Alerted" to a blog because the writer put up a post about calling a helicopter to her scene on a night when weather was questionable. I like her style... and as always, smiled to see that EMS folks have similar experiences everywhere.
Go spend a little time at "My Life In The Firehouse" and see if you agree it's worth your time.
I've added her to my Blogroll.
I was "Google Alerted" to a blog because the writer put up a post about calling a helicopter to her scene on a night when weather was questionable. I like her style... and as always, smiled to see that EMS folks have similar experiences everywhere.
Go spend a little time at "My Life In The Firehouse" and see if you agree it's worth your time.
I've added her to my Blogroll.
A Photo of Greybeard...
Fellow blogger, former Marine, and former Presidential Candidate Cary Cartter is a guy I agree with much of the time. He comments here now and then. When he found out Big Bubba moved to Mesa he quickly volunteered to lend a hand if ever needed, and made me a lot more comfortable with the idea my son was 1700 miles from home.
We finally got together at the "Chevy's" restaurant in Mesa Saturday night, and Cary's beautiful wife took a picture of the two of us together. So if you're interested to see what Ol' Greybeard looks like, check out the pic at Cary's Blog here!
We finally got together at the "Chevy's" restaurant in Mesa Saturday night, and Cary's beautiful wife took a picture of the two of us together. So if you're interested to see what Ol' Greybeard looks like, check out the pic at Cary's Blog here!
10 November 2007
06 November 2007
Subs, (Not Sandwiches!)
I'm gonna tell ya about an extraordinary Saturday, but I forgot to relate something important about the trip to Honolulu-
Our flight from Mesa, AZ to Honolulu was on an ATA 757. The flight was full... approximately 200 people aboard. There were four bathrooms on the plane... three amidships and one up front. The flight took 5.5 hours. About 4 hours into the flight the bathrooms began to smell pretty bad... I think the holding tanks may have been nearly full. The otherwise satisfactory experience was made uncomfortable by the fact that from our seats four rows away the smell was strong enough to make Sara Jean gag.
But back to Saturday-
In an earlier post I mentioned our Hawaii classmate's husband Ken works for the Navy at Pearl Harbor. He wanted to give us a special tour of the Harbor facilities. Big Bubba, Sara Jean and I rode along with Ken and his wife as Ken pointed out different points of interest at both Pearl Harbor and Hickam Air Force Base. Many of the sights were familiar from movies we've seen, like "In Harms Way", and "Tora, Tora, Tora!"
Then we stopped at the Submarine base.
Security there is obviously VERY high.
I had never been close to a sub, and even though we were 75 feet away behind a fence, was happy to be able to get a good look at three of them... two at the pier near us, and one across the channel in maintenance.
I asked Ken if he thought there was any way we could get inside the fence for a closer look. He said he thought maybe I could do it with my retired ID card, but was much less sure about Big Bubba and Sara Jean. I asked the security guard if I could pass through the gate and he surprised me by saying yes, then asking, "Are you sponsoring the rest of these folks?"
The whole group followed me inside the fence.
The two subs closest to us were Los Angeles class... the "Bremerton" and the "La Jolla".
This is the Bremerton:
"La Jolla" is similar in appearance, but has "bow-planes"... the elevator-like control surfaces on the Bremerton's sail are on the bow of the La Jolla, and its sail is unencumbered.
We chatted for a while with the armed (12 gauge shotgun and sidearm) guard at the Bremerton, then moved on to the La Jolla and did the same. Walking back to the Bremerton, Ken noticed some sailors leaving the boat in their dress whites and said, "Ya know... sometimes when the crew is ashore they give tours on the surface ships"...
The idea of it stunned me. Was it possible to take a tour of an active nuclear submarine? I walked up and asked the guard.
I was amazed when he turned and picked up the phone. A few moments later the "Officer of the Day" appeared and escorted all of us down the hatch!
For the next hour+ the five of us were given a wonderful tour of one of the most deadly weapons systems known to man. We were not allowed near the reactor, but toured three levels aboard the Bremerton, asking what were probably stupid questions.
I would NEVER have thought touring the boat would be possible, and will NEVER forget the experience!
Our flight from Mesa, AZ to Honolulu was on an ATA 757. The flight was full... approximately 200 people aboard. There were four bathrooms on the plane... three amidships and one up front. The flight took 5.5 hours. About 4 hours into the flight the bathrooms began to smell pretty bad... I think the holding tanks may have been nearly full. The otherwise satisfactory experience was made uncomfortable by the fact that from our seats four rows away the smell was strong enough to make Sara Jean gag.
But back to Saturday-
In an earlier post I mentioned our Hawaii classmate's husband Ken works for the Navy at Pearl Harbor. He wanted to give us a special tour of the Harbor facilities. Big Bubba, Sara Jean and I rode along with Ken and his wife as Ken pointed out different points of interest at both Pearl Harbor and Hickam Air Force Base. Many of the sights were familiar from movies we've seen, like "In Harms Way", and "Tora, Tora, Tora!"
Then we stopped at the Submarine base.
Security there is obviously VERY high.
I had never been close to a sub, and even though we were 75 feet away behind a fence, was happy to be able to get a good look at three of them... two at the pier near us, and one across the channel in maintenance.
I asked Ken if he thought there was any way we could get inside the fence for a closer look. He said he thought maybe I could do it with my retired ID card, but was much less sure about Big Bubba and Sara Jean. I asked the security guard if I could pass through the gate and he surprised me by saying yes, then asking, "Are you sponsoring the rest of these folks?"
The whole group followed me inside the fence.
The two subs closest to us were Los Angeles class... the "Bremerton" and the "La Jolla".
This is the Bremerton:
"La Jolla" is similar in appearance, but has "bow-planes"... the elevator-like control surfaces on the Bremerton's sail are on the bow of the La Jolla, and its sail is unencumbered.
We chatted for a while with the armed (12 gauge shotgun and sidearm) guard at the Bremerton, then moved on to the La Jolla and did the same. Walking back to the Bremerton, Ken noticed some sailors leaving the boat in their dress whites and said, "Ya know... sometimes when the crew is ashore they give tours on the surface ships"...
The idea of it stunned me. Was it possible to take a tour of an active nuclear submarine? I walked up and asked the guard.
I was amazed when he turned and picked up the phone. A few moments later the "Officer of the Day" appeared and escorted all of us down the hatch!
For the next hour+ the five of us were given a wonderful tour of one of the most deadly weapons systems known to man. We were not allowed near the reactor, but toured three levels aboard the Bremerton, asking what were probably stupid questions.
I would NEVER have thought touring the boat would be possible, and will NEVER forget the experience!
Dateline: Ford Island
Aviators know what I mean when I say I'm "behind the power curve".
We've seen so much... done so much. So much has happened, I've had to make notes on what to share with you. I'll try to blog in my spare time, (HA!).
Let me slowly bring you up to speed.
First- the idea of coming to these islands for a week... spending a couple days on Oahu, then hopping over to Maui for a couple days, then on to Hawaii for a couple... absolute crap. By the time we leave we'll have been here a week, and we won't even have done Oahu justice.
That's how it looks through these eyes anyway. Our rooms in the "Navy Lodge" here on Ford Island are fabulous. Two queen beds and bath, kitchenette, and separate sitting room with desk and sofa/sleeper. We sleep within 1000 feet of the remains of almost 1000 men that died on the U.S.S. Arizona.
This is another mini-High School reunion for me. I sponsored four classmates and spouses to stay here at the Inn with us. We arrived Thursday evening to very light rain and moderate temperatures. The rain stopped and we congregated at one of the Lanais for beverages and conversation with our classmate that lives here on Oahu and her husband who works for the Navy at Pearl Harbor.
Friday morning dawned beautifully and found us with coffee cups in hand on the front porch, overlooking the Harbor. Showered and ready for action, we drove one mile to the Battleship Missouri and signed up for the guided tour. It's impossible to describe the effect approaching this ship has on ya... almost 1000 feet long and 20 stories tall, 9-16 inch guns lying in standby, my thoughts went to what it must have been like on 6 Dec 41 to see a clutch of similar ships moored here. The tour lasted an hour or so and was well worth the time and money. From the bow of the Missouri it's impossible to miss the beautiful white structure that is the Arizona Memorial. That was next on the agenda.
The only way to get to the Arizona is by water, so we had to drive to the other side of the harbor to visit her. There is a museum there with many 7 Dec exhibits, and we idled some time there while waiting to go into the theatre to watch a 20 minute film about the U.S. being invited into WWII. The film moved me to tears. We then boarded the ferry and crossed the harbor to the Arizona. There were 60 or so people on the ferry... many of them Japanese tourists. All were obviously affected, like me, by the film. What talk there was among the visitors was done at a whisper.
We've all seen so many images of the Memorial, you feel as if you've already been there. After disembarking the ferry we walked to the far end of the Memorial to view the names of the crewman that were killed that day, including those whose remains we stood above. A smaller separate plaque shows the names and dates of death of those Arizona shipmates who survived into old age who made the decision to have their ashes deposited here alongside their shipmates who died over 60 years ago.
We were the last tour for the day and the sun was low in the sky, so it was hard making out the outline of the big ship beneath us. On the bow, a buoy is tied so you can see the ship's length. Not quite as long as the Missouri, it boggles the imagination, thinking of something that large exploding... burning... sinking.
So our Friday was a full, emotional day.
Adjacent to the facility/theatre for the Arizona is a WWII submarine, the "Bowfin".
We intend to take a look there before we leave.
More to come...
01 November 2007
He Works In Strange Ways-
Sad news came last night...
The 25 year old son of close acquaintances was killed two nights ago.
He somehow got his car stuck in the Interstate median, then was struck and killed trying to cross the highway. (The vehicle that hit him didn't stop.)
Like our Big Bubba, he was an only child.
Engaged to be married, his fiancee' was expecting.
I haven't talked with his Old Man in some time, but I'm sure he would have been somewhat embarrassed by this pre-wedding pregnancy.
How do you think he feels about his coming grandchild now?
Hug your loved ones folks, and try to remember what's really important in your life.
The 25 year old son of close acquaintances was killed two nights ago.
He somehow got his car stuck in the Interstate median, then was struck and killed trying to cross the highway. (The vehicle that hit him didn't stop.)
Like our Big Bubba, he was an only child.
Engaged to be married, his fiancee' was expecting.
I haven't talked with his Old Man in some time, but I'm sure he would have been somewhat embarrassed by this pre-wedding pregnancy.
How do you think he feels about his coming grandchild now?
Hug your loved ones folks, and try to remember what's really important in your life.
Tonight we'll be in paradise.
We took the first step yesterday and arrived here in Mesa, Arizona just before 10 A.M. local time. Being a cheapskate added a little stress to our lives... my cheap tickets had us departing our home airport a little after 6 A.M.
Backward planning then indicates our problem-
It takes 3 hours to get to the airport.
Waking, personal hygiene, loading the car, etc., takes an hour...
Clearing security adds another.
So 6-3-2= a 1 A.M. departure from home.
We questioned if we should even go to bed. Knowing that I have to be up that early precludes me from really sleeping anyway-
I guess it's actually a good thing my system is screwed up from working nights all the time!
Every time we travel I'm reminded of the old George Carlin "Stuff" routine, (and I notice he's talkin' about Hawaii ! ):
What part of your stuff is important enough to pack and bring along?
After you're packed you stress out that you've forgotten an important part of your "stuff". So far we seem to have done pretty well...
the stuff we brung is the stuff we've needed.
Today is another adventure altogether...
I hoped Big Bubba would be able to tag a friend to take us to the airport.
No dice. His folks at work are tied up meeting an important deadline for a project and can't be torn away. So we're left with a couple options...
Call a taxi, or take the bus.
We checked, and the 20 minute taxi ride would cost $30. (Knowing how cheap I am, I'm sure you can see where this is leading!)
We checked the "Vally Metro" website and found we can make our
4 P.M. flight by boarding the bus at 1:19, one block away from Big Bubba's apartment. The fare- $1.25 each! We have to transfer to a different bus twice before arriving at Sky Harbor International, but transfers are free for the asking. I'm no expert on riding the bus, so I'm concerned about the logistics of all this. But if it all falls into place, I think we'll be using mass transportation to get to/from the airport here from now on!
The other night I thought of another coincidence. In my previous post I told you I had been to Honolulu on one other occasion...
on my way to Viet Nam.
The date of that flight?
1 November 1968... exactly 39 years ago today.
Aloha everyone!
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