Off to Houston

Anyone who has been a loyal reader of "Flyin' Brian" might remember that I was once based in Houston for a few months in 2016. Having recently completed my initial operating experience on the new jet, I transitioned to a reserve schedule and have yet to be called. Once I had some days off again, I flew to Houston to see my sister and her family. I had not seen them in Houston since I was based here, so it seemed like a good a time as any to pop in.

With two young kids, there were plenty of toys for me to play with. I quickly took to the bristle blocks and fashioned this fine aeroplane you see before ye. Note the twin turbofan engines and winglets for improved fuel efficiency. I was pretty proud of myself.  Nevertheless, my visit occurred just one week after Hurricane Harvey caused catastrophic flooding, and I felt obligated to do something productive with my spare time.

I saw the pictures in the newspapers and videos on tv, but there's always that detachment. It's just too abstract to try and understand that a busy shopping center can somehow be mistaken for the ocean the next day. I was inspired watching folks help each other out. I wonder how LA would respond in the face of something like an 8.0 earthquake. I'd like to think we would help each other out, but I've been in LA long enough to suspect otherwise.

In any event, with free time and flight benefits, I had no excuse, but to contribute all 155 lbs of my brute strength to the cause of helping folks rebuild. We linked up with a nearby group of Mormons who go out everyday to clean out a few houses. And before I go further, anyone who knows me, might be taken aback that I was working with a church group, as I am quite vocal against religious groups, particularly when it comes to homophobia and other prejudices. But if they're going to use their forces for good, I'm game.

We arrived at the house in question. I asked my sister if the area was economically depressed before the flooding because everything looked pretty . . . bad. Every house and building was pretty damaged. The lead Mormon told us to remove any items that were still in closets/pantries etc. Easy enough, right? Nicole got a garbage bag. Yes! Nicole came too! Can you believe it? Poor thing got dragged into working in moldy, mildew-infested conditions for hours with no reward other than the feeling that she had helped someone. A round of applause for Nicole, please. I think she's even smiling in this picture. Who knows.

Back to clearing the closets... I began removing a few items and then the smell hit me. It was like nothing I've ever smelled before in my life. After loading up a wheelbarrow and dumping the trash at the curb, I had to take a break. I started gagging and dry heaving. That smell had embedded itself in my nostrils and I had to get some air, change my mask and get back to it.

We moved on to some of the other rooms and started taking down the wet and molding drywall. You could see where the water line was. I'd estimate around 4ft high. The mold spores were probably as high as 6 ft. The walls came apart like butter and gave way to visibly wet beams. At points, I was using just my hands to take down the wall. Realistically this house should be bulldozed to the ground, but I understand this may not be an option for the family that lives here. There was at least one child living there, as we could see their artwork on the walls.

After taking down all the drywall, we called it a day. Feeling a bit contaminated with ecoli water, mold spores, and mildew, I kicked off my shoes into a garbage bag and added them to the pile of trash at the curb. The volume of rubbish in the street was a staggering site. I'm not sure one dump truck could have managed even one house. This process could take months if not years. And I think that's the real lesson to be learned. Harvey is gone, the waters mostly receded, and a new hurricane bearing down on South Florida as we speak. Harvey is already becoming a distant memory for the rest of the country as we focus on Irma, Jose, or Trump. But as you can see here, Harvey won't soon be forgotten in these parts and these folks could use all the help they can get.

Day 3 of Southern Road Trip and Houston Makes a Final Stand

Waking up in New Orleans on what turned out to be a relatively calm street, we played tourists and got beignets at the famous Café du Monde. Every employee appeared to be angry and Vietnamese. We asked for four beigets and the lady yelled at us and said, "No! Two! For you two!" and promptly stormed off to put in our reduced order. It would not be the first time that someone on wait staff attempted to convince me that I should be eating less than I'm asking for, but she seemed so assured of herself, I was taken aback. Perhaps she was trying to tell me I'm fat.

After our beignets, we left the hotel and found that my parent's car was still intact with no broken windows. We parked it on the street for $2 so as to avoid the $48 parking fee at the nearby lot. From New Orleans, we proceeded to drive for over 300 miles until we got to Buc-ee's where we had oversized meals and a delightful banana pudding and completed the remaining 20 miles into Houston.

If you recall, I was fairly certain I would not be assigned any trips due to the fact I had only two days remaining in Houston before transferring to LA. But of course with that confidence came an unexpected trip to humble me one final time. Around 11pm, I discovered I had been assigned a pairing that would be going up to Cleveland, O'Hare, and Milwaukee, then back down to Houston on the following day and over to Pittsburgh for an overnight followed by a deadhead back to Houston on May 1st when I was supposed to be in LA. Oy vey! I called to make the correction, but I would still be stuck flying on those final two days (including my birthday!).

Poor Nicole was left behind to bond with my family and sister who had just given birth to a ten-pound sack of potatoes. We finally met up on the 30th and flew together from Houston to LA on what would be my final commute. It had been a very long day that began early morning in Milwaukee and involved two legs just to commute home from Pittsburgh, but with that effort came an increased sense of accomplishment. This called for donuts! And perhaps Randy's Donuts knew that it was my birthday. I asked for a dozen and was given 15. What a day!

Winding Down in Houston

I have entered my final week at the Houston base and things are finally coming to a close. The area has been pounded by storms and heavy rains that resulted in flooding. There was one day of good sunny weather when I took this picture of a 777 with a Star Wars BB-8 livery. We were preparing to depart toward Acapulco, yet another Mexican destination. Without a doubt, I have spent more time flying back and forth to Mexico than I have within the United States since being based in Houston. I can't even count how many times I have flown down to Monterrey. Lately I've been assigned primarily local flights where I am back in Houston by day's end.

This has advantages and disadvantages. I find myself being put to work at my sister's house. Fortunately Buc-ee is available to assist, though he struggled with power tools. At one point, he was spinning counter-clockwise at great speed around the drill. It's a good thing he wears safety goggles. With my sister smuggling some kind of large creature in her belly, my LA transfer cannot come soon enough. Most people describe a pregnant belly as appearing to be hiding a basketball. This is no basketball. It's like a yoga ball in there if I ever saw one. It has become a full house with my parents also taking care of business around the house.

In an effort to solve two problems at once, I plan to transport my parents vehicle from Florida to Texas while experiencing everything the "dirty" south has to offer. Road trip! It should be an adventure. After this journey through the deep south, I technically have two more days of reserve in Houston, but I can't imagine them calling me because they are so limited as to what they can give me. It couldn't be anything more than a quick out-and-back trip (presumably to Mexico). In any event, I look forward to having some free time next month to finally use my travel benefits to go somewhere fun instead of using them to commute to work. Farewell jumpseat. Farewell running through the airport to make a tight connection after landing. From now on, I shall just walk out the door, into my car, and back home. Huzzah! For now, let's all reflect at where I've been flying since late fall.

Brian Goes to Ikea, Buc-ee Builds a Bookshelf

With some changes going on at our Houston base, our number of reservists has shot up, which has a negative effect on me since I'm at the very bottom of seniority. Basically, I can't expect many calls to fly over the next month. And as much as I despise going to places like Ikea, it gave me purpose. Now at least I had some work to do. My niece has a small plush beaver named Buc-ee, who is the mascot for a truck-stop style convenience store chain throughout Texas. I enlisted his help in building the overly complicated Ikea bookshelf.

Buc-ee consults the instructions

The work begins

Buc-ee struggles with the wooden dowels

Buc-ee shows those dowels who's boss

Buc-ee positions the shelves

Buc-ee lifts the side

Buc-ee begins to struggle under the weight

Buc-ee collapses

Buc-ee attacks the instructions with rage

Buc-ee is instructed to go back to task

After protesting, Buc-ee continues work

Buc-ee positions the bottom

Buc-ee screws in the final bits

Buc-ee lifts the bookshelf with all his might

Buc-ee gets cocky after getting the shelves upright

Buc-ee shapes the boxes

Buc-ee puts the top on

Success!

Time to Celebrate

A Post for Pops

I have been fortunate enough to have parents who liked to travel. In my youth, my father often did the majority of the planning of our various trips. And because he had a keen interest in art history, we found ourselves schlepping for hours to visit some obscure site that embodied an architectural style that interested him or some work of art that nobody else in the family had heard of. This had varied responses amongst other family members. In the picture at right, you see the family marching toward the Einsteinturm, a building in Potsdam, Germany. And you may be interested to know that of all the sites in Potsdam, it is ranked #25 and has been reviewed by a staggering 14 people on TripAdvisor. All of them gave it very high marks, but as you can see, it is just some random tower to those who don't appreciate it on the same level as my father. See below...







When I was a flight instructor in Long Beach, I was dispatched by my dad to take pictures of some buildings that were an example of Art Deco architecture. When they came to visit me one winter, I took my parents on an Art Deco tour of Hollywood and Downtown LA -- no doubt the highlight of anyone's trip to Southern California. Meanwhile back in Houston . . .

It was another week without calls. It almost became an expectation to wake up with a whole day ahead of me, and with newly found access to a Toyota Sienna, or as my sister has christened it, "Ze swagger wagon," I went for a small road trip toward downtown Houston. From there, I forked off toward Hobby airport, or as many have dubbed it, the lesser, more ghetto of the Houston airports. I had a reason to go, however --the  Houston air terminal, which was built in the middle of the Art Deco movement, and I went there on my own accord!

After Hobby was built, the original air terminal was abandoned and was going to be torn down to make space for a hangar, but architecture aficionados stepped in to save it. It's now a museum focusing on air travel in the 1940s with exhibits on how flying used to be in the good ol' days when folks used to smoke on airplanes and security was non-existent. There was an interesting poster showing all the airline mergers throughout the years, but it stopped in 1999, which was interesting in its own right, because airlines like NorthWest, TWA, Continental, US Airways, and America West no longer exist.

It was a small museum, but interesting nonetheless. However, as you can imagine, like the Einsteinturm, it was not particularly crowded. I was the only person in the museum, which made things very exciting for the docents when I walked through the door. My week ended on a holiday weekend, which made travel back to LA a challenge. Luckily, I was able to hitch a ride on a fancy new 787 Dreamliner, which had two spacious jumpseats. I also received a lunch and a chocolate chip cookie, a small reminder of what flying back in the good ol' days might have been like.

First Week in Houston

I've just finished my first week at the Houston base. I would have liked to have flown to new destinations, but the farthest I got from the Houston airport was my sister's house - a 20 minute drive away. Despite there being relatively few reserves (at one point I was the only person on the reserve list), I didn't get called once . . . well almost. I got called on day 3 of 4 to be told that my reserve on day 4 would be changed from 4-4 to 9-9. This is far less than ideal on a day I'm trying to get home. I was not happy with this at all. Day 4 came and no calls.

So what did I do all week? Why I went to the Houston zoo you see. Of all the zoos I've seen this year, it was the best. If you recall, back in October I visited the Fresno Zoo which was a sad display of a lonely ostrich walking around a cell. The Houston Zoo was much more impressive. Not only was there a single lonely elephant like in Fresno, there were several. Now the elephants could play with each other, even though zoo work pays peanuts. My niece was of course accompanying us on this trip. She has become more comfortable with my presence. She now acknowledges me and looks at me when she's speaking as opposed to hiding behind my sister's legs.

Despite the general boredom of sitting alone wondering if a call would come, I appreciated being out of Minneapolis. The day after I left, a snowstorm resulted in hundreds of cancelations and delays. A good time to get out, I thought. But as the days dragged on and no new work, I began to wonder if the Houston transfer was all that beneficial to me. In the evenings, my niece liked to run around outside. She created a game, in which she wanted to be chased. The rules of this game favored the game-maker because anytime I got close, I was instructed to stop.


One day, I purchased a pair of new running shoes.

When my sister told my niece that I got new shoes so I could run faster, this upset her very much. She was now concerned that perhaps I would now be fast enough to catch her. She had to be comforted and told that they would make me faster, but not fast enough. While I enjoyed a slight warmup of temperature, I would much rather be working. If this continues the rest of the month (and into March it would appear), it could really make my move appear wasteful. The only real benefit right now is that I have every weekend in the month off. Hopefully I will have some time to use my travel benefits for something other than trying to catch a full flight home when my original listing had plenty of seats available before the company arbitrarily changed my reserve hours. Grrr.

The Beginning of the End of Chapter One

This week did not start off well. I was set to depart on a 6:40am flight out of Los Angeles to be in Minneapolis by 1:00. Problem is -- the plane that allegedly had 14 seats available was a bit of a ghost ship. The flight was supposed to be a 757, and paying passengers had been booked seats accordingly. However the flight was actually on a smaller 737. Immediately 60 people were displaced. Chaos ensued. A man was nearly in tears because he was enroute to Minneapolis to see his dying father. A line to get rebooked was 50 deep. As someone who was not a paying customer, I was in the back of this line. By the time I reached the front and asked for the jumpseat, the Delta gate agents were less than keen on helping me. A flight attendant was also looking to jumpseat, but we were met with a cold shoulder and a, "Sorry, we have to close the door." It would not have been difficult. A few key strokes, a swipe at the printer, and a badge verification were all it would have taken. Too much. They had done their job with the paying passengers and immediately signed off. And just like that, two employees couldn't get to work in Minneapolis because a few gate agents were acting like Janice in accounting. As a result, I had to call in and get pulled from the trip. While my company was understanding, I was not looking forward to being back on reserve.

I put myself on the call list. Again, I've seen the big mall and the big spoon already. I've exhausted my MSP to-do list. Around noon, I got a call! A deadhead to Appleton of all places, and then a flight back to MSP. Not too bad. I got to the airport. Ring ring. "Yeah, Delta decided to cancel that flight, you don't need to come to the airport." Reverse.

Several hours later,  I noticed an email from my airline. I had been awarded a transfer. I always figured my next base was going to be San Francisco. After all, there were only four people in front of me asking for SFO. Houston and L.A., on the other hand, had over a dozen. So I was a little surprised when the email said IAH on it--the airport code of Houston Intercontinental. No doubt I will be sitting reserve in Houston, but it will be a warmer reserve. I can stretch my legs, go for a run. I've become fluffy living off of Culver's butterburgers and cheese curds. If I do get called to fly in Houston, there will at least be some variety. And when I'm not flying I can further my efforts to befriend my niece.

If you take a look at the route map, compare Houston to Minneapolis. The routes in Houston go farther and (typically) warmer. I'll gladly trade Fort Wayne for Fort Myers, or Aberdeen for Albuquerque. In my boredom of reserve, I even wrote a poem about the transfer.

"Minneapolis?!," I shouted. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"No" said the company, and went out for a smoke.
It's three point five hours to get there one-way!
A long way from home back in sunny L.A.

I put in my time learning all sorts of things
Like CAT II approaches and de-icing the wings
To Kentucky, Iowa, and the Dakotas I flew
My teeth all a chatter, my hands turning blue

"Please, a transfer!," I wailed up to the skies
But the only response was more snow in my eyes
I had waited months for the glorious day

that I'd transfer to San Fran, Houston, or L.A.

I had always figured that San Fran would be next

With its pricey hotels, fog, and black turtlenecks.
Yet against all odds, came the LoneStar state
Free lodging indeed! . . at my sister's estate.

No it's still not quite home, but that time will come
For now I am thankful just to thaw out my bum
So cheese curds and poutine must now make their way
For burritos, beef brisket, and Mexican soufflé

Sure I'll probably be sitting reserve there at first
But that gives me time to see my niece at her worst
Off to Houston I go! Not a moment too soon
Farewell to Fargo, South Bend, and Saskatoon!

Houston: Attempting to befriend a 3 year old.

When your entire family is spread across three different time zones, getting everyone together in the same spot can prove difficult. An opportunity presented itself this week, so on a whim, I hopped a plane to Houston to see my parents and my sister at the same time. As a package deal with my sister, I also got to see my three year old niece. For unexplained reasons, she is terrified of me. Last year for the winter holidays, she held my hand once, but it was by mistake. When one is 3 ft tall, everyone's hand looks the same.

As one who spends lots of time on airplanes, often with a desire to nap, small children are my natural enemy. Nevertheless, I accepted the challenge of finding some common ground. This was not dissimilar to the Camp David peace accords.

Houston is one of the fastest growing cities in the U.S., and what were empty fields just a few years ago have turned into fully developed communities with new parks and facilities. We walked to one such park where my niece proceeded to run the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant. Common ground. Surely my two years working at Culver's would now pay off, (at $6/hr they sure didn't pay off back then am I right?) I played the role of the customer the only way I knew how. I ordered a combo, but made a substitution followed by a substitution to the substitution. My niece didn't even flinch and in short order I was handed a small rock. The fast food industry and its customers should learn from this. Once you receive a rock, you know you've gone too far.

These rocks proved helpful, however, because one of the unique features of the park was a streambed and water pump. One could divert the flow of water to a different stream by damming an area with rocks. This is actually far more entertaining than it probably sounds. Even the three year old kept herself occupied with digging and damming for probably an hour. She continued to run over to me with more rocks to do some dam stuff. 

The following day we went to downtown Houston to visit the museum of natural science. The highlight was the dinosaur hall, which had lots of skeletons. My niece covered the exhibit space in about 45 seconds. "Spiky dinosaur!, big dinosaur!, flying dinosaur!, dinosaur eating another dinosaur's butt!" Her enthusiasm and energy were exhausting me. That being said, out of our original group of five, I was asked to drive home with three people passed out in the backseat. *Sidenote: the Toyota Highlander does not have the same turning radius as a Hyundai Elantra. This caused some issues. Also, everyone in Texas drives a truck. Also, gas in Houston is $1.97/gallon. These are all foreign concepts to me as an Angeleno. I had to maintain a low profile while in town, for everyone knows that Texans think everyone in California is some Hillary-loving, free-trade promoting, Prius-driving, pot-smoking, vegan munching, whole foods shopping, gun hating, coffee shop screenwriting, tree hugging pansy. I figured all of this would be masked by wearing my t-shirt that simply says "TEXAS."