SLC's A-Squad

Last week, thanks to a faulty FMS and ACARS (fancy words for our computer calculations for navigation and performance), I had to face the daunting task of doing math in the morning (a pilot's worst nightmare). This experience was stressful, so I have some perspective on the stresses doled out by Salt Lake City's controllers today. For starters, there was a light to moderate rain/snow mix going on upon our arrival in Salt Lake, so I shot an LDA approach (an approach not centered with the runway).

I had not done one of these since I was a flight instructor doing training flights to John Wayne in Orange County, but this was not the challenging part. Nay, the issue was in the fact that everyone kept forgetting to relay us instructions until we specifically asked, "Ummm, can we slow down from the assigned 250 kts?" As fun as it is to go flying down an instrument approach at max speed, I did eventually want to deploy flaps and lower the gear. Then they forgot to hand us off to tower until we asked, and later tower forgot to hand us off to ground. Siiiigh. The captain even said, "Not the A-Squad working today at Salt Lake is it?" This was said just as a Delta airbus was forced to go-around because the controllers had not worked out the spacing properly for the parallel approach. Look, people make mistakes. It's human nature, and everything usually works itself out. It's good when people can work as a team to sort it out, but when people start working together as a team to make mistakes . . . it can obviously lead to problems.

In flight training, we would call this the accident chain. Many things have to go wrong for an aviation accident to occur. If you can just break the chain at one spot, you can recover and save the day. So when the windshield wiper on my side of the plane started moving on its own after it was turned off, one's instinct is to troubleshoot it and look down and fiddle with the knobs, but the more appropriate thing is to look outside and make sure we don't taxi into a luggage cart.

I was glad to exit the aircraft and we made our way to the good ol' Hotel RL, a hotel in Salt Lake that seems to specialize in airline crewmember lodging, and evidently little else. I mean it's fine as a hotel, but I seem to have bad luck with my rooms there. The temperature control was set to 74 degrees, but the room was showing 55 degrees as it blasted out freezing cold air. I called down to the front desk, and miraculously someone was able to go into the vent and fix it.

Things finally came together after the rain had subsided and I ventured out for a walk. I was expecting it to be cold outside, but compared to my room, it actually wasn't too bad. I walked by the Mormon temple, where I found some trees budding for the spring and then made my way to the City Creek Mall for some dinner at Chick-Fil-A.

As much as I usually hate on SLC, it isn't a bad downtown area. I mean, if you compare it to Cincinnati, for example, Salt Lake City is like the bright center of the universe. Everything is pretty clean and safe. People are actually out and walking around.

With any luck, we won't have to deice tomorrow, and it should be a much-deserved easy day of flying as we make our way up to Oregon.

Salt Lake for Two

For some reason when building the schedules, the airline ends up creating these very long layovers -- always in Salt Lake, and always saves them for me. Since I had almost an entire day in SLC, I invited Nicole to follow me there from LA. In fact, she rode in the back while I was up front making silly pilot announcements. And when I say Nicole was in the back-- she was in the very back...because it was a Schmamerican Airlines flight. You see, if you are standby on Schmamerican, you will get the worst seat on the plane, even if there are many open seats elsewhere.

The only incentive is that tickets are only $1.58 per flight for Nicole. You get what you pay for I suppose. After showing Nicole the big Mormon church, we discussed our plans for the remainder of the day. We ventured someplace new -- the University of Utah campus! We took an Über there with a middle-aged woman who was very intrigued by the two Californians in her car who claimed to be a TV producer and an airline pilot. We walked through some botanical gardens after arriving at the Utah campus. Like most places like this, it was overpriced, and our timing was not ideal. Most plants and flowers in the gardens were dead. We spent about an hour walking around the gardens and then grabbed some lunch. After this, we took the tram back to downtown Salt Lake for the sum of $2.50, or to look at it another way, almost twice the cost of Nicole's ticket from SLC back to LAX this evening.

36 Views of the Utah State Capital

As a pilot, one must submit for a medical exam once a year. It's nothing too involved -- checking eyes, ears, stable pulse etc., but you always hear crazy stories about someone going in and losing their medical due to some rare heart condition. As a pilot on the go, it's sometimes difficult to acquire the healthiest food. I've made a lot of fast food runs in airports, but we were so delayed yesterday thanks to a control tower fire alarm in Phoenix, that I didn't eat dinner until arriving in SLC after 1030pm. The captain and I went across the street from the hotel to a sports bar called Legends.

The clientele was what you'd expect to find at a bar in Salt Lake on a Thursday night. Beat-looking, possibly under the influence of illegal substances, and missing a few teeth. I had a southwest burger with peppers and the captain ordered a plate full of tater tots covered in chile verde and cheese. He suggested I try a place down the street tomorrow called Bruges Waffles & Frites. It boasts a sandwich called the machine gun that he described as a baguette with two sausages and french fries covered in sauce. I worry about the captain's medical.

I had an unusual 30 hour layover in Salt Lake City -- a place I have spent so much time in, I feel as though I've seen it all. Since I had so much time, I thought about taking the train to see an airplane museum in Ogden, but the nearest stop was still 3.5 miles away, so I'd still have to get an Uber or something. I didn't feel like doing this planes, trains, and automobiles (quite literally) adventure, so I tried to find some interesting running routes. I found a spot that might offer some good views over the city and the capital, but it would be all uphill.

The picture of the capital above was after a considerable uphill in its own right, but this was child's play compared to what was to come. My run devolved into some sort of spastic ritual of throwing one leg in front of the other as the grade steepened. The capital building which sits on a large hill looking over the city was now below me. The altitude and dryness of the air was starting to take its toll on my endurance, but I had to press on to Ensign Peak, my goal at the top of the hill.

Unknown to me until after I got back, Ensign Peak is apparently significant in Mormon history as the place where Brigham Young looked down at the valley and Salty Lake below him, had a vision, and exclaimed, "Ah ha! This is it! The promised land! Zion! Bring 'em old! Brigham Young! In my vision, I see a meth den and a Dollar General!" I paraphrase, but you get the idea. Back to my run  jog  semi-brisk walk, I was struggling just to negotiate the rocky dirt path leading up to the top.

At long last, I reached the summit, making sure to run the last couple feet just for show. It did have an all-encompassing view of the valley. I could see the airport, Provo, University of Utah, and of course the capital building and downtown area. The sun wasn't in the ideal spot and most buildings were in the their own shadow. Brigham Young must have arrived in the morning. The valley didn't look as picturesque mid-afternoon, but I still took some time to marvel at the elevation gain I had just undergone and enjoy the fact that it was all downhill from here.

To appreciate the distance, here's a picture of the capital from the top. Be impressed, people! Are you not entertained? I drank an entire quart of water after I got back to the hotel. Now to decide on dinner. . . should I go back to Legends for the plate full of tater tots? I mean after that workout, I could probably even feel ok about myself eating that, but the machine gun sandwich crosses a line. Even Brigham Young did not anticipate such a travesty of cuisine unfolding below him.

Back in the Saltiest of Lakes

Early last August, I earned my ATP certificate in Atlanta after almost two months of both ground and sim training. It was a great feeling of accomplishment to finally have the privilege to fly a jet. In order to maintain this certificate, however, I must come back once a year for recurrent training and be retested orally on my knowledge and also in the simulator. I have not met any pilots who have positive feelings about this experience, but I'm sure the traveling public would be glad to know we get tested every year to get our licenses renewed. So off I went to Salt Lake City again.

The first day of ground was straightforward, but my sim schedule of 8pm-2am wasn't exactly ideal for maximizing my focus. On the first day of sim, we did everything bad that can happen to a plane -- engines on fire, missed approaches on one engine, lavatory toilet in flames -- the usual things you might encounter when flying Aeroflot. The following day was the actual checkride, but there is only so much studying I can do at a time, so I took the train downtown since I had all day. When I was here last year, I recall a museum on the history of the mormon church that was under renovation.

Well now it's open, and admission is free, so I decided to check it out. I'm not mormon, but I find religions intriguing. Unfortunately, I didn't really get much out of this particular museum. It's more of a museum about mormons for mormons. Everyone else in there was commenting on captions at the exhibits with interest and excitement, but things didn't quite have the same meaning for me. There was a replica of the golden plates that Joseph Smith found and hid under a hat to translate from Egyptian hieroglyphics to English. It did sort of cover the history of the mormons and their various settlements and the lives of the Smiths at least. But I was honestly hoping for a bit more -- like how are certain countries chosen for missions and what's the deal with the secret underwear? See, that's how I know this was not a museum for a mere passersby. While it has amazing reviews on tripadvisor, I feel as though it could have been a bit more inclusive. Though, to be fair, I tried to avoid all museum staff for fear of being recruited, so maybe not too inclusive . . .

Since I covered the museum in a short amount of time, I went to a park near the Mormon temple to go on my phone and study a little bit for the looming checkride. Then I got hungry. My food options back at the airport hotel are quite limited, so I went to a local chain called Crown Burgers, which is like the In N' Out of Salt Lake. It is, however, more expensive and not as good. It wasn't bad per se, but at almost $6 a burger you kind of expect to be wowed. The interior of this fast-food was . . . different. It was decorated like an old man's house that hasn't been updated from the 1970s, but was decorated in the 70s to look like a medieval castle. That probably makes no sense, and I didn't have to foresight to take a picture, but that's the best description I can give.

After taking a nap and doing a little bit of studying, I took my check ride and despite the high stress environment, came out on top with confidence just like this bear driving a car made to look like an Embraer 120 Brasilia turboprop. Everything is confusing in Salt Lake City. Nevertheless, I can relax a little bit for the next 12 months and my parents will be happy to hear that their travel benefits can be extended for another year.

...and the next thing I knew I was in Idaho

After weeks of idle time on reserve and no flying, I received a call Sunday morning to go to Salt Lake City to sit reserve. This was somewhat exciting because I was beginning to tire of sitting around doing nothing. In my head, I envisioned Salt Lake to be warmer than Minneapolis, but when I checked my phone, it was 30 degrees. Nevertheless, I had no intention of spending all evening sitting in the hotel (which by the way allowed pets, so I found myself suffering from congestion). I put on a hat and gloves, donned my jacket, and headed out for dinner. I stopped at a place called The Bayou for some cajun cuisine. Sure, Utah may not be known for its gumbo or jambalaya, but one can't always be choosy. I ended up ordering something called gumbolaya - a mixture of the two signature dishes. On the menu, it jokingly warned that eating this concoction guaranteed cardiac arrest. Just for an extra kick, I tossed in a little bit of Louisiana hot sauce. I thoroughly enjoyed my southern cuisine . . . in northern Utah.

After my meal, I decided to walk toward Temple Square. It wasn't super close and it was quite frigid out, but the trek was worth it. The entire square was illuminated with christmas lights of all colors. The mormons were admiring the lights as well. How do I know they were mormons? Naturally it is too cold to be sporting white short-sleeved dress shirts and black ties. In winter months, it appears they don pea coats and put their name tags on their outermost garment.  And now you know. . .

As I lay in bed that night, congested from the 87 cats that must have at one time occupied my room, I periodically woke up and checked my phone to see if the airline had assigned me a trip. I got a call at 4:40am. Time to go to work. I would be flying to Twin Falls, Idaho. When I was told this, I didn't even know where it was on a map. Turns out it is just a short hop from Salt Lake City. Twin Falls seemed eager to give Minneapolis a run for its money with a temperature of 1º. I may or may not have conducted the walkaround at a brisker pace than usual. I looked the town up on google after flying back to Salt Lake, and it looks like it might be a nice place, but I was too busy chattering my teeth and convulsing to observe much beyond the small airport terminal.

     Meanwhile in Los Angeles . . .

Salt Lake City

It took me about two months to complete all my initial jet training as I bounced between Salt Lake City and Atlanta. From now on, I will find myself in Salt Lake once a year until I retire or change airlines. Airline pilots are continually evaluated each year and can be terminated at any time if their performance is not to standard. This is different from folks who have private or even commercial pilot certificates, who essentially have valid licenses for life as long as they do a brief review with a flight instructor every other year. As a former flight instructor, it was a huge liability to do these flight reviews for obvious reasons. The pilot's most recent flight could have been over a year ago, and as long as they perform a few token landings, they could legally carry passengers the next day. Yikes. The point is that when you board an American air carrier, your pilots are qualified and capable, and statistically the safest in the world. And now you know.

As I have not requested Salt Lake as a base, I do not expect to be here much until my next evaluation. It is a city that I have explored in just two areas: the airport vicinity and downtown. The area around the airport is not terribly exciting. I have had lunch or dinner in this area only out of desperation. The restaurants are just . . . awful. It is a simple matter of convenience...I'm looking at you Lofte's on West Temple. If you were in the middle of Utah, would you trust a restaurant whose specialty is exotic burgers like alligator or kangaroo? Exactly. Those have probably been sitting in the freezer since the Bush administration.

Fortunately, Salt Lake has a fairly clean and efficient light rail to take people from the airport to downtown so they don't have to eat ostrich burgers. The downtown has a fairly thriving bar scene, which is confusing for two reasons. One being the fact that obviously there are a lot of Mormons in the area. Second is the fact that Utah liquor laws are the most confusing in the country. Draft beer in Utah is limited to something like 3.2%, but you can order bottles or cans with the normal amount. Happy hour is illegal as are any discounts on alcohol. Now, a "bar" must also serve food and must card everyone who enters even if they don't plan on drinking. There is a workaround for this, as I saw at Bar X (the actual name of the bar). Inside the dimly lit bar, only drinks were served. But, at the far end of the bar was an open door connecting to the restaurant next door. Voila. So all in all, Salt Lake is a nice enough city, but I could never see myself living there. Being neither mormon nor meth addict, I have a feeling I would be in the minority.