What time is it? No, wait . . . what day is it?

Today was the day of schedule changes . . . or was that yesterday? I was preparing to get on a plane from LA to Minneapolis when crew support gave me a call telling me to go to Chicago O'Hare for "ready reserve." Instead of being the usual two hours out for reserve, I now had to be inside the terminal, uniform on, ready-to-go at any moment. But first I had to get from LAX to ORD on an oversold redeye United flight, my only way of making it to O'Hare on time. I took the very last seat on the plane -- the jumpseat in the cockpit. It was difficult to get any rest because the crew kept talking about their schedules and their battles with the bidding software. More on this common airline topic of conversation here...

I arrived in Chicago in the middle of a rainstorm at 6am. My report time wasn't for another six hours, so I went to the United Club, gave them one of my day passes, and attempted to take a nap in one of the chairs with only moderate results, but substantial neck pain. I enjoyed some pound cake, soup, and salad before I received a call telling me I would now be going to Charleston, South Carolina.

Fortunately I would not have to actually operate the aircraft. I would merely deadhead in the back, where I promptly fell asleep. There was a girl afraid of flying across the aisle from me. I feel like there is nothing more calming to a nervous flyer than someone in a pilot uniform nodding off in the middle of moderate turbulence. Two hours later, we arrived in Charleston. The airport is not particularly close to town, so instead of the well-known Georgian-style architecture, I saw an outlet mall and a Chick-Fil-A, which became my dinner. Tomorrow I will fly back to Chicago to potentially start this process all over again.

Viva Las Henderson

It was a hectic day beginning in Santa Barbara at 5:00am. From there, we went to San Francisco and over to Salt Lake City. Once there, we learned that someone must have sneezed in San Francisco and the bay area was now covered in low clouds, delaying our departure from Salt Lake. The bigger problem was that we needed to make a deadhead connection on a United flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas. After launching out of Salt Lake at our flow time, we were able to coordinate with dispatchers to put us into the gate right next to our United flight, getting to the plane just in time. If only one could do that as a passenger...

After taking a little nap on the flight to Las Vegas (Reminder: I was not flying the plane), we took the shuttle van to our hotel in Henderson. Although McCarran International is much closer to hotels on the Las Vegas strip, one can see the PR issues that could ensue by putting a flight crew up in the MGM Grand. After going for a quick run, I set out on the hunt for food. There were numerous restaurants in the area, but I was looking for a place where it is socially acceptable to be eating alone. So... I went to a casino.

As we all know, Vegas is known for its buffets, but they can be quite expensive. Fortunately, being off the strip, I was able to score endless food for less money than my tiny airport sandwich I bought in Salt Lake City. I ate my way around the world so to speak. It was divided into sections based on regional specialties. I began with Italian and Asian -- two slices of pizza, calzones, garlic chicken, linguini alfredo, meatballs, and fried rice, and an egg roll for starters. Then I moved on to the American and Mexican section where I acquired a quesadilla, spanish rice, a corn muffin, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and biscuits and gravy. And what's that I see in the corner? Is that a salad? It is! Look how healthy I'm eating! To finish things off, I knocked back a coconut cream pie and some ice cream and called it a night.

Iran meets San Diego

Today marked the first day that I flew the CRJ-700, the larger, more airplane-like version of the CRJ-200 I had been flying for the previous couple weeks. I had heard much buildup about how it is more difficult to land etc etc, but after my first landing in the plane ever, the passengers commented on the nice landing on their way out. On my second landing in Seattle, the flight attendants stated, "Nice landing, whoever did it." On my third landing back in LA, the captain said, "Ok, you have the landings down." Honestly, despite what everyone else says, the CRJ-200 is harder for me to land because it makes no sense. You fly the approach by pointing the nose at the ground until the last possible second. It feels very unnatural, but I guess it's been working out for everyone else, so I'll have to get used to it.

Today also marked the first time I was in Seattle, or Washington state in general. I was on the ground there for a whole 45 minutes. I saw the space needle, Mt. Rainier, and what I can only assume is typical Seattle weather. Mist, overcast clouds, and a balmy 50 degrees. Naturally, this post cannot be about Seattle as I barely even left the airplane. The last stop of the day was San Diego, where our long day ended around 6:30pm. I felt exhausted, but also hungry. I yelped "cheap dinner," and picked the closest one -- this happened to be an Iranian restaurant 4 blocks from the hotel.

Darband Fifth Avenue may sound like a high-class jewelry store, but it is where I acquired a chicken kabob and rice that went on for days. The term cheap dinner was a bit misleading, as this meal cost me $16. However, I was pleasantly stuffed and I was in the middle of downtown San Diego so "cheap dinner" might be relative. I know it was authentic because I was the only white guy walking into the place. Everyone else appeared to be at least 40 and smoking cigars and drinking tea. If you're ever looking to visit Iran, this is apparently all you would have to do to fit in. After I brought my meal back to the hotel, I noticed it had some peppers on the side. These, however, were not the kind of peppers that you find in a Papa John's box. I took a large bite out of one and promptly exploded. The water I had saved from the flight was not enough to douse the flames. Fortunately their was some kind of cucumber yogurt dip that calmed things down long enough for me to actually taste the rest of the meal. After polishing off the last bit of rice, I rolled myself into bed at 9:30 and prepared myself for a 4:30am wakeup call.

And the title of best bbq in Lindbergh Int'l Airport goes to . . .

No doubt at some point in your life, you have experienced a significant flight delay -- most likely due to weather. After an early arrival from LAX to SAN, we were immediately notified of a ground delay in effect for our next leg from SAN to SFO. San Francisco has notoriously foggy weather and someone had evidently sneezed and the fog rolled in. When this occurs, it increases the workload on controllers, who are now limited to just 2 of 4 runways and aircraft are forced into holding patterns.

Meanwhile in San Diego, we were held to a ground delay with at least an hour until we would be given any updates. While perhaps frustrating to a passenger, this gave me an opportunity. It was originally supposed to be a quick turn of the aircraft of just 30 mins. Now I had some time to at least find a bathroom and even feed myself.

While I did my post-flight walk-around of the aircraft, the captain and flight attendant went to get food of their own. The aircraft cannot remain unattended for more than five minutes, so I babysat the CRJ until they returned. This gave me time to snap a little cockpit selfie sporting my pink tie for breast cancer awareness. When the rest of the crew came back, I went into the terminal to see what my options were. Immediately I saw a bbq place . . . and continued to walk down the terminal. I walked passed a stand serving the famous donuts from Donut Bar from a previous adventure. As appealing as this was, my mother's voice echoed in my head on how donuts are not an appropriate lunch.

I nearly walked the length of the terminal and nothing was appealing to me, so I doubled back to Phil's BBQ to give it a shot.


While I do enjoy a good bbq, I tend to be a bit particular about where I get it. The San Diego Airport terminal didn't strike me as the place to get fine bbq, but maybe they can surprise me. I ordered a bbq chicken sandwich with potato and mac salad on the side. I returned to the plane just in time to hear clearance lift the ground delay. Passengers would be boarding in five minutes. I looked at my massive bbq chicken sandwich and dove in.


Fear struck in. Passengers were mere minutes away from loading up and potentially seeing one of their pilots welcoming them onboard with a cocktail of potato salad and a bbq sauce all over my face.  I polished it off with not a minute to spare. How was it? Alright. Flavorful. I honestly don't even remember it that well. All I know is that all of my speed eating efforts were in vain. After half the passengers had loaded, clearance gave us another call telling us that there was another delay of about 45 minutes. Alright, everybody back out! I could have enjoyed the meal after all, but now all I was left with was indigestion.

Manhattan & Hermosa

The stressful ordeal of yesterday's driving made me appreciate my limited time (a whopping 24 hours) in Los Angeles that much more. Compared to Fresno, LA is like some kind of utopian paradise where people break into synchronized song and dance...almost. Being an outdoor kid, I had an itch to get out and enjoy the sunshine. This is why I can't sit in crew lounges at airports. There are no windows to allow any natural light to enter. It's just sad -- especially in Fresno, where a lonely bookcase of old VHS tapes waits patiently for some brave soul to put Spice World in the VCR.

Nicole and I decided to go skating on the Manhattan Beach boardwalk. It was very relaxing to glide along the path with the ocean on one side and multi-million dollar homes on the other.

We made our way into Hermosa Beach where we skated passed a volleyball tournament and a triathlon finish line. Eventually we arrived at the Hermosa Beach Pier where . . .


OH MY GOD!  HOW DID THIS SNEAK UP ON US! IT'S COMING RIGHT AT US! RUN! NO...we have time. Just walk away slowly.

The blimp made a slow getaway toward Palos Verdes to the south. In case you're in the mood for a little Good-Year blimp trivia, this is the Spirit of Innovation, a blimp that used to be based in Akron, Ohio, but came out to Los Angeles to replace the Spirit of America, which was recently deflated. This is a temporary visitor until newer, much larger zeppelin-like Good-Year blimps will replace the fleet. 

Aren't you glad you know more about the blimp now? It is an intriguing career option, but extremely competitive. Can you imagine being on that flight from Ohio to LA, though? In the blimp? At 30mph? And you thought your commute was bad.

Santa Maria and taking the long way home

After deadheading to San Francisco to sit for four hours, we reported for duty to fly a tiny 20 minute leg from SFO to Santa Maria in California's wine country. We overnighted there and I had some time in the morning to explore the surrounding area. Across the street was Waller Park, a vastly superior park to Fresno's Woodward Park in just about every way. First off, it was free. Yes, Fresno charged me to enter their park. There's nothing good about Fresno at all. . .

. . . No!, I will not be swayed with your Tacos merchandise.








Meanwhile, back in Santa Maria, I was enjoying my leisurely stroll around the ponds across the street from our hotel. The weather was very unusual. I often find the winds in Santa Maria to be strong and the temperature to be quite cool. However, it felt more like Hawaii with very high humidity and unstable air. When we first landed, the ground was soaked. Rain? What? In California? This instability would later lead to storms in Southern California on a scale that has not been seen in years. "Interstate 5 closed due to flooding and mudslides!," echoed the news stations. "5 closed! Seek alternate routes!," they said. Very well. The following day when I planned to drive home, I sought alternate routes, taking me deep into the Mojave desert and around the 5 in an attempt to get back to LA. The problem was that while all the news stations were focused on the 5, every other major (and minor) road cutting across the mountains into LA was shut down. This detail was conveniently omitted by the crack journalism efforts of the local media.

Each barricade I encountered, Google Maps attempted to advise me of an alternate route with the false hope that I could somehow get home, but those routes also led to more barricades. Feeling defeated, I backtracked to Fresno, having driven seven hours, and using up a full tank of gas, only to end up where I started. It was one of the most stressful and frustrating days of driving I have ever experienced. Not as stressful, however, as having your car or truck stuck in a raging river of mud and debris and stranded overnight. I am extremely fortunate that I had other options at my disposal. All Fresno to LAX flights were booked up, but I was able to ask for the jumpseat and in the one stroke of luck I had all day, someone didn't show up for their flight and I was allowed to sit in the back with the normal folks. 40 minutes later I was finally home.

The 2nd highest rated thing in Fresno is . . .

I found myself in another situation where I had to check out of the hotel, but had to kill time until my report time of 4:15. I went on tripadvisor and looked up the sights and headed on my way to the #2 highest rated thing to do in Fresno. I drove up to Woodward Park, where I found numerous walkers, joggers, and cyclists.  I was a little bit let down by the park. They appear to be renovating the area, so much of it was being dug up and not the most aesthetically pleasing thing to see. Nevertheless, it gave me a chance to just walk around and relax while strolling the trails.

Many of the walkers took their workout very seriously. At one point, I was slowly gaining on an older gentleman, so I positioned myself to pass him. As soon as he heard me coming, he went into full powerwalk mode and started pulling away at a rapid pace. However, after his breakaway, he appeared to have pulled a hamstring and slowed once again (as portrayed in the picture at left). As I gained ground once again, he did an about face and started walking the other direction rather than admit defeat. I hope I didn't damage his self-esteem too much.

The other day, I learned that I had transported the Secretary of Agriculture from Denver to Fresno. Yes, a government cabinet member flew on a CRJ. In fact, he had to gate check his bag too. I speculated that his job was to come to California's central valley to confirm that there is in fact a drought. "Ah yes, I see the drought," he must have exclaimed upon. "Now, where's my bag?"

The drought is felt in LA when looking at the surrounding hills that have turned a dusty shade of brown. However, the real devastation of the drought was very clear to me just by walking around Woodward park. Everything just looks kind of dead. Bridges crossed over waterless creeks. All in all, the park was kind of meh. I spent the remainder of the afternoon by getting a haircut, grabbing a sandwich, buying pants at Target, and walking around old town Clovis, the neighboring town. Perhaps the most interesting thing I did in Fresno today wasn't in Fresno at all.

I didn't venture into any of the stores as I wasn't really in the market for an old wagon wheel or antique sewing machine. I then drove out in the country for a little bit, passing vineyards, almond groves, and other agricultural fields. This was enjoyable, but since I was driving, there are no pictures.

After walking back to Fresno airport, I deadheaded (rode in the back of the plane with the normal people) to San Francisco, where I am now killing another four hours (albeit paid) for an extremely short flight from SFO to Santa Maria, an airport I have been to numerous times as a flight instructor. Tonight could prove to be a little different than puttering along in a Cessna.

Fall in Jersey

Two days off. Where should I go? Well, across the country of course. Nicole was keen to return to her motherland in order to shake hands and fist pump with a new arrival to her family, so I tagged along. My disdain for the garden state and the majority of its residents is rarely disguised, though I do admit a peculiar small town quaintness to much of the state. Having left triple digit temperatures in Los Angeles, it was also good, in some ways, to be reminded that it is actually October. The trees were changing color and there was a crispness to the air that I haven't felt in years. Exhaling into the air gave way to smoke -- a novelty to me as a child...and now. Nicole and I embarked on a walk through Grover Cleveland Park in Caldwell, NJ. Yes. Grover Cleveland: a president you think so little about you may not have known he was even a president. But he was not just any president. Nay, he was the only president to have been elected twice in two non-consecutive terms! Ooooh. Aaaah. His first lady was also his sister. And obviously, with a park named after him, he was born in Caldwell, NJ. And now you know. 

The trails around the park were filled with walkers and joggers, all dressed as if it was the middle of July. The joggers had to be careful not to run too close to people in the midst of a conversation lest they get smacked by a rogue hand gesture. (There's a lot of hands when talking in New Jersey) That evening we partook in a typical New Jersey meal of salad, pizza, eggplant parm, and pasta with vodka sauce. I think there was something else there too, but I digest...   I can't stop myself. I established bad precedent some years ago when I had flown in to New Jersey on a redeye for a wedding and was very tired and hungry and proceeded to eat my rehearsal dinner steak and that of three others around me...as well as a plate full of desserts. From that moment on, I was labeled as the eater. No turning back now. 

The following day, we headed to Wightman's Farm in Morristown, New Jersey for another example of old school Americana and quaintness. Children were picking out pumpkins, and also walking into my knees. People were making hand gestures to describe the shape of pumpkin they wanted...or possibly just asking one another how many is too many meatballs. It is unclear. We looked at gourds and pumpkins and cider and all kinds of autumnal produce. Freshly made cinnamon donuts were purchased. Donuts were eaten. After bloating once again, I rolled back to LA and then on to Fresno to report for another week of west coast flying.

Eureka! (Or Arcata)

For those who don't know, Eureka is a small town on northern California's coastline. Believe it or not,
it is not my first time to this area. Several years ago, I was passing through the area enroute to the Redwoods and a search for sasquatch. Back then, I made a stop at one of my favorite microbrews, the Lost Coast Brewery. That's all I really remembered about Eureka. And to be technical, the airport is actually a 20 minute drive north of Eureka (and our hotel) in a town called Arcata. What does that airport think it is...Denver?

This was thusfar the smallest airport I have landed at in the jet. We received a message during flight to go to gate 2 after landing as if it really made a difference. The airport has no gates, just a door. The runway is one of the shortest of the airports served by my airline. It used to be connected to San Francisco with small turboprop aircraft, but these were all retired a few months ago. Now the small community in Humboldt County is served by a 50 seat CRJ flown by a pilot performing only his sixth landing in the jet, at a non-towered airport, with a short runway, at night. No problem. As I was doing my shutdown checks, I overheard some of the passengers remarking on how they thought it was a nice flight. Maybe people are just nicer up here, but I thought I did a decent job of bringing the plane down quick, but not too hard. No time to float and smooth things out on a short runway. 

Each leg, I probably forget one or two things regarding some of the automation/flight computer programming (Anyone out there ever use DOS?) I feel like the actual flying of the plane isn't bad at all. On the way into San Francisco, a controller gave us a late descent clearance, so I had to lose lots of altitude and at the same time reduce my speed, which can be a challenge. Somehow, I was able to pull it off, meet all the speed and altitude restrictions on the way in and even got a, "Nice job on that descent!," call from the controller. I'll take it.

As I was overnight in Eureka, I had some time in the morning to walk around old town, where I saw the brewery again as well as some old Victorian style homes. It's a nice little town. There are some interesting looking people walking around, though. Lots of beards.

Fall has already arrived in Eureka. I saw a leaf turn color! It was just 51 degrees this morning...brisk for my fragile body that has long ago acclimated to Southern California. Four more legs and I'm done for the week. I am excited to have some time to relax for a couple days.

There's not much to do in Fresno

My report time in Fresno is 4:15 pm and of course one has to check out of the hotel before then, so it was a bit of a challenge trying to figure out what to do. I consulted tripadvisor, which said the #1 attraction in Fresno is the zoo. Alright, I'll try it out.

You would be impressed...if you'd never been to any other zoo before in your life. I knew it wasn't a good sign when there were signs directing me to various attractions and all I saw was an empty field. Now, there were some things of interest. There was an anteater and an elephant at one point. Orangutans too. The problem, however, was in the presentation of it all. Lots of fences and unnatural looking habitats made for marginal photo taking. The tiger's natural habitat is the tropical forest, stated an exhibit caption. Ah, that explains the desert backdrop and rocks. 

The highlight of this zoo was a sea lion exhibit. "Do you know the difference between a seal and a sea lion?," it said on the sign. After reading the "differences," I haven't the faintest idea. I spent some time just sitting near a viewing window observing the sea lions swim laps. Also near the sea lion exhibit were some pelicans. A curious creature, the pelican. His beak can hold twice as his belly can. Enough food for a week, he can stuff in his beak, and I don't know how the hell he can! Thank you. I'll be here until 4:15.

It had been maybe an hour, and I had seen everything at the zoo, so I struggled the rest of the day trying to find something to do. I went to a nearly deserted shopping mall and then a Chipotle. I also received a call this morning asking me to report back to Fresno next week. Hmmm. I already hit the top attraction. What will I do next time? And would you believe it...NO stores have any Fresno Tacos merchandise. Unacceptable.

Yesterday Santa Barbara, tomorrow the WORLD (or Fresno)

Time wise, we are looking at an entire month between my last training session and now. Accordingly, to stay fresh, or at least make myself feel better by doing something during the day, I headed up to Santa Barbara. I struck up conversation with the flight attendant, who cringed a bit when I told him my current base is Minneapolis. To be perfectly honest, I've actually had pleasant experiences on all my Skywest flights. The flight attendants have been very friendly and the pilots have been professional. So there you go...an airline pilot not complaining about their company. Rare it seems.

Anyway, Santa Barbara is not new to me. I've flown there
dozens of times during my GA and flight instructing career. And because of that, I knew there was a small sandwich and snack stand on the beach, about a mile walk from the terminal. Of course I was wearing my uniform and it was over 80 degrees out. This is, by the way, not typical weather in Santa Barbara. After enjoying my turkey sandwich while gazing at the ocean, I worked my way back to the terminal, where I was asked lots of questions about gates and departure times etc. I don't get it. That's what the screens are for, people. Anyhoo, I rode the jumpseat for the 18 min flight back to LA. In a Cessna, this would take an hour and a half. Crazy newfangled jet technology!

The following morning I received a call from the company asking if I was willing to do some flying out of Fresno. Having been paid to do nothing for the last month, I didn't feel I could say, "Nah, I've got to go to Paris next week." It all happened very quickly after that last flight. It's as if the crew schedulers were talking amongst each other and said, "Did you read his blog and see where he went now?!" "Can someone get him in a plane? If we don't stop this soon, he'll be in Dubai by the end of the week. He'll bankrupt the company!"

So Fresno it is. I don't know much about it to be honest. I only know they have a minor league team called the Tacos, whose jerseys and hats are simply a taco with no text. You're alright, Fresno. You're alright.