Far be it from me to say anything nice about the AF, but the guys over at baseops.net (an excellent site, btw) have a pretty hilarious thread going about inflight "emergencies". Given the bullsh!t level in the threads in the last 24 hours...I think it's time for some good ol toilet humor. Here's one of my oldies but goodies:
http://www.airwarriors.com/forum/showthread.php?t=9933&page=5&highlight=doppler+cream
And a new one:
There I wuz, fat dumb and happy, 4.0 hours into a 5 (long time ago, hard to remember) or so hour repo hop from Okinawa to Misawa. A relatively new PPC, I was enjoying not having to study, and making fun of everyone. But payback is a b!tch. I had scarfed a delicioso bowl of buckwheat noodles and mystery meat from the Kadena AFB Propstop (Navy side of course, next to metro). Well, I assume someone wiped their a$s with the noodles, because "the percolations were imminent". What started as gas pains began to evolve into full blown rumblings. But hey, I can hack it right?
Stomach churning, I tell the guys its time for a seat swap and my 2P, "Vern" asks who gets the approach/landing. I say, "I need it for monthly mins". We do the chinese fire drill and I strap in on the left.
In the meantime, I have my Nav call ahead on the HFs to get a weather update. Oh, great, massive front/snow/soup has blown in, Misawa is calling minimums, snow on the runway, wicked crosswind. Hmm. We do the math and figure we can do 2 approaches, and if need be, divert to Atsugi (I am all about extra fuel- I'm not paying for it).
About 30 minutes away, the weather is ominous. Simultaneously, I feel the buckwheat and monkey meat having their own version of "Fight Club" in my gut. It gets to the point where I am afraid to shift my weight. I realize that it would be a HUGE mistake to try to land like this, especially considering the weather. I look to my right to ol' "Vern" and say "Dude, unstrap, I'm about to sh!t myself" Vern is a true professional and one hell of a guy, and he doesn't say a word as he collects his gear. We call/wake up the 3P and do another 3-way seat swap, with me in the right and Vern in the left.
Any slop in my colon fighting for its way out quickly retreated back into my guts as we shot the PAR, with the classic Japanese (easy right, easy reft, you are row, still row) calling us in. Vern gets us in at mins, and squeaks the Warpig in.
Immediately, relief combined with TERROR overcomes me. "Taxi us in as fast as you can do it without getting me in trouble"
We pull up to the hangar and I see the Skipper, who has we haven't seen in about 2.5 months, waiting to greet us as usual. "Parking brake set"
"Whatever...you guys finish the checklist, kill 1 and 2, I'm OUT."
I race down the ladder, and Skipper, smiling, walks to shake my hand and say hi. I pretty much run him over, saying "SirgreattoseeyouIgottausethehead" and sprint to the first deck crapper, leaving a trail of flight gear behind me.
I made it.
The End
http://www.airwarriors.com/forum/showthread.php?t=9933&page=5&highlight=doppler+cream
And a new one:
There I wuz, fat dumb and happy, 4.0 hours into a 5 (long time ago, hard to remember) or so hour repo hop from Okinawa to Misawa. A relatively new PPC, I was enjoying not having to study, and making fun of everyone. But payback is a b!tch. I had scarfed a delicioso bowl of buckwheat noodles and mystery meat from the Kadena AFB Propstop (Navy side of course, next to metro). Well, I assume someone wiped their a$s with the noodles, because "the percolations were imminent". What started as gas pains began to evolve into full blown rumblings. But hey, I can hack it right?
Stomach churning, I tell the guys its time for a seat swap and my 2P, "Vern" asks who gets the approach/landing. I say, "I need it for monthly mins". We do the chinese fire drill and I strap in on the left.
In the meantime, I have my Nav call ahead on the HFs to get a weather update. Oh, great, massive front/snow/soup has blown in, Misawa is calling minimums, snow on the runway, wicked crosswind. Hmm. We do the math and figure we can do 2 approaches, and if need be, divert to Atsugi (I am all about extra fuel- I'm not paying for it).
About 30 minutes away, the weather is ominous. Simultaneously, I feel the buckwheat and monkey meat having their own version of "Fight Club" in my gut. It gets to the point where I am afraid to shift my weight. I realize that it would be a HUGE mistake to try to land like this, especially considering the weather. I look to my right to ol' "Vern" and say "Dude, unstrap, I'm about to sh!t myself" Vern is a true professional and one hell of a guy, and he doesn't say a word as he collects his gear. We call/wake up the 3P and do another 3-way seat swap, with me in the right and Vern in the left.
Any slop in my colon fighting for its way out quickly retreated back into my guts as we shot the PAR, with the classic Japanese (easy right, easy reft, you are row, still row) calling us in. Vern gets us in at mins, and squeaks the Warpig in.
Immediately, relief combined with TERROR overcomes me. "Taxi us in as fast as you can do it without getting me in trouble"
We pull up to the hangar and I see the Skipper, who has we haven't seen in about 2.5 months, waiting to greet us as usual. "Parking brake set"
"Whatever...you guys finish the checklist, kill 1 and 2, I'm OUT."
I race down the ladder, and Skipper, smiling, walks to shake my hand and say hi. I pretty much run him over, saying "SirgreattoseeyouIgottausethehead" and sprint to the first deck crapper, leaving a trail of flight gear behind me.
I made it.
The End
