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.