Equal Time Point

by Harrison Jones

  She sneezed into her hand and then reached above his head and reset the call light. “What can I do for you Mr. Smallman?”

  “Smallwood.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “My name is Smallwood.”

  “I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like you to take this martini back and bring me one without the olive. I ordered it with no olive.”

  Pam took a tissue out and sneezed into it. “Right away Mr. Smallman.”

  “Smallwood.”

  “Of course.”

  She took the martini back to the galley and told Nancy, “He doesn’t like olives.”

  “I know.”

  Pam stuck her fingers into the Martini and removed the olive. Nancy smiled at her and handed her the jar of olives. Pam poured several ounces of olive juice into the martini and stirred it with her finger. Nancy held her hand up for a high-five, and Pam smiled innocently as she went to serve the drink.

  She sneezed as she approached 4A and said, “I think you will find this one to your satisfaction, Mr. Smallman.”

  She smiled and walked away before he could correct her. She passed Molly in the aisle. Molly sat down and fastened her seat belt.

  “Molly, one of your flight attendants has been walking through the cabin sneezing. It doesn’t create a very good ambiance for the passengers.”

  “I know, but I admire her for not taking a costly sick leave. Don’t you agree?”

  He looked thoughtful and then said, “This is one of the best martinis I’ve ever had. I’m going to ask how she mixed it.”

  When Pam returned to the galley, Nancy was preparing meal trays. “Mr. Smallman seems to be moody and uptight. What would you prescribe for that condition, Nurse Nancy?”

  “Perhaps a few drops of clear liquid laxative would improve his demeanor.”

  “Let’s see how he tolerates olive juice first. You better not let Britt know about our medicinal prowess, either.”

  “Don’t worry, too bad we’re out of extra strength Ambien.”

  Ray had developed a headache sitting in the hot truck. He needed another beer. At last he heard Flight Eleven receive takeoff clearance from the tower and wrote down the time. He switched frequencies and listened as they talked to departure control and were finally handed off to Atlanta Center. Convinced that things were going as planned, he calculated that he would make his first call at eight thirty.

  Now he had two hours to kill and a second agenda in mind. He had decided to pursue a relationship with Annie. She was taller than him and a few years older, but she seemed to understand him, and he was sure that he had impressed her. He adjusted the mirror in the truck so he could comb his beard.

  He returned to his favorite bar stool, but an hour and four beers later, he still had not used the opening line he had practiced. Annie was devoting all her attention to a tall mechanic wearing an Aero Mech uniform, sitting a few stools away. Every time she laughed at one of his dumb jokes, Ray became angrier. He switched to scotch and soda and began thinking about payback for both of them. When he heard her agree to meet the guy after work, he stormed out of the bar in a rage.

  He found Annie’s red Mustang convertible and gouged his truck key down the entire length of the driver’s side. He walked to his truck, but another thought occurred to him. He went back to the Mustang, took out his pocket knife and cut a three foot slit in the fabric roof. Still not happy, he cut the valve stem of the front tire and listened to the air hiss out as he walked away smiling. Let your boyfriend fix that.

  He turned his thoughts back to the night’s business as he drove away. Glancing at the clock on the trucks radio, he saw that it was after eight. He would find a quiet place to make his first call. He laughed as he thought, Hello Tri Con, guess who this is.

  Ray didn’t hesitate when the light turned yellow. Easy decision, stomp on it. He barreled through the intersection with other driver’s horns blaring and returned the gestures they directed at him. Less than a block later, the blue lights lit him up. He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and got his driver’s license out.

  “Sir, did you realize the light was red?”

  “I thought I could make it.”

  The cop was not a rookie. “Would you mind stepping out of the truck, please?”

  Ray opened the door as the truck started to roll. He jammed it into park. “Sorry about that.”

  “Can I see your license, sir?”

  Ray handed it to him. Just give me the ticket, Gomer. I’ll be rich tomorrow.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you to take a sobriety test. Do you have any objection to that?”

  “Yeah, I have objections to that. All I did was run a red light.”

  Another police car had rolled up and the other cop stood with his door open.

  “Have you been drinking tonight, sir?”

  “A couple of beers, but I don’t need a sobriety test.”

  “That’s your decision, sir. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

  “What! You can’t arrest me for running a red light.” The other cop walked up to assist.

  “I’m arresting you for suspicion of DUI. We can add resisting arrest if you want.”

  “You can’t do that. I pay your salary, mister. Give me the ticket and go have a donut.”

  “Sir, put your hands behind your back, please.”

  The airplane was climbing through clear skies now, and they were able to relax as the workload lessened. Robby turned in his seat to talk to Tony about the relief pilot duties. They divided the available flight time by three and declared that each of them would receive a two hour and twenty-four minute rest break. A Business Class seat was reserved for that purpose. Next, they turned their attention to what was called the howgozit chart. It was essential to be able to compare the actual time of arrival and fuel remaining with the estimated time and fuel at any point during the flight. Based on their actual takeoff time, they calculated the numbers for twenty-six different points on the flight plan. At each of the points, they would compare the numbers and determine howgozit.

  “I’m going to take last break,” said Charlie, “You guys can decide the other two.”

  “Relief usually goes first,” Robby said. “Is that okay with you, Tony?”

  The interphone chime sounded, and Tony answered.

  “It’s Britt. Do you guys want to eat now or later?”

  Charlie and Robby both chose later.

  “The other guys are going to wait, but I’ll be back to take my break in a few minutes. I’ll eat then if it’s okay.”

  “No problem. Would you like beef or chicken?”

  “Beef would be great.”

  “I’ll have it ready for you.”

  Tony checked his calculations one last time, then handed the clipboard to Robby. He began his break a few minutes late, but finished his meal quickly, reclined the seat, and fell asleep.

  One hour and twenty-one minutes after takeoff, Tri Con Eleven passed over Robbinsville, Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia. Robby checked the howgozit and declared that they were two minutes late and eight hundred pounds short on fuel, well within the comfort zone.

  Britt was happy that the meal service seemed to be going well. Everyone had been served, and so far there were no complaints. Tony finished his meal in record time and now was covered up to his chin with a Tri Con blanket. She looked forward to her own break but remembered she had promised Pat she could go first. Even Allen Smallwood seemed to be content and was well into his first movie as he finished his chicken dinner. Nancy and Pam were doing a good job, but she wondered what they were whispering about in the galley.

  In the aft cabin, things were going a little slower, but they were making progress. The passengers who had been served first were now finished with their meal and making their trek to the lavatory, thus causing Alice and Bertie to push the meal cart back and forth to allow them to get by. Mary and Shelia had stopped serving twice in ord
er to assist some of the handicapped to the loo. Several of them were not mobile enough to make the trip, even with assistance, and the flight attendants working the aft cabin had each guessed a time and placed a dollar into a galley drawer. The pot would be collected at the time of the first urinary accident. The time that Alice had guessed was growing near, and she was closely watching a double amputee that she had served four beers. She was considering comping him another.

  Bertie fixed a special tray for Mandy with extra portions and promised her an ice cream sundae from business class later. Mandy was concentrating on her Game Boy now and was well occupied for the moment.

  Molly Jackson had finished dinner and retrieved the laptop from her briefcase in order to work on her monthly reports. Earlier, Allen had related a lengthy story about how he had hired illegal Mexicans to staff the production line at the shoe factory, and she had highly recommended the feature length film he now watched. She wondered if any of the flight attendants had Ambien

  .

  The flight benefited from a forty knot following wind and sped rapidly to the east as the sun dipped lower in the sky behind them. The air was clear and smooth, and Charlie and Robby chatted and enjoyed the view.

  “Tri Con Eleven, contact New York Center on 132.85.”

  “Three two point eight five, Tri Con Eleven, so long.”

  “Good evening New York, Tri Con Eleven with you level at three three zero.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, New York, good evening sir. How’s the ride?”

  “It’s been real smooth so far. Have you had any reports?”

  “Yes sir, you can expect some light to moderate at three three zero once you pass JFK.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Charlie had been watching flashes of lightning in the distance for the last hundred miles or so. “I guess the forecast was right about the scattered thunderstorms.”

  He turned on the radar, extended the range, and adjusted the antenna tilt down slightly. The screen painted a line of thunderstorms extending to the northeast of JFK. They were separated by forty miles or so, and each one featured a red center of heavy rain surrounded by a larger area of green or yellow indicating lighter precipitation. He transferred the image to the NAV screen to see exactly where the storms were in relation to their planned course. “Looks like they’re scattered along the beach. We should be able to deviate a little to the right and miss them. We’ll wait till we get closer.”

  The lights on the ground were beginning to define cities that were not apparent in sunlight from thirty-three thousand feet. The clouds beneath them were scattered to broken now, but a few minutes later Charlie could clearly see Manhattan and New York Harbor as they approached.

  “Why don’t you play tour guide and tell the people about the Big Apple?”

  Robby punched the PA button and gave the announcement that he had repeated a hundred times before. “I hope I didn’t wake Tony.”

  “Yeah, there are a lot of reasons why nobody likes first break. Let’s see if they’ll let us go right for a little while.”

  “New York, Tri Con Eleven, we’d like to deviate right to miss the boomers up ahead.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, deviate right of course as necessary, let me know when you can go direct Boston.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, will do, thank you, sir.”

  Charlie selected a heading twenty degrees to the right and pulled the knob that changed the autopilot mode from nav to heading. The interphone chime sounded and Robby answered, “I asked you not to call me at work.”

  Britt said, “You and Alice should team up and do a nightclub act. Are you gentlemen ready to dine?”

  He looked at Charlie and got a thumbs-up. They had already perused the menu and made selections.

  “Yes ma’am, one beef and one chicken.”

  “How about beverages?”

  “Do you have a nice Chardonnay?”

  “Of course. Would you like a couple of tequila shooters to go with it?”

  “Maybe later when the boss goes on break. For now, just a couple of bottled waters.”

  “Give me a few minutes, I’ll call you back.”

  Charlie turned another five degrees to the right and watched Mother Nature’s light show with the cloud-to-cloud lightning over Long Island.

  “Tri Con Eleven, traffic at one o’clock, two zero miles, a Boeing 747 at flight level three-one-zero.”

  “We’re looking.”

  Charlie reached up and turned on the bright white fuselage lights, and as they looked ahead, they saw another bright set of lights illuminate on the 747. The twenty miles was already less than ten with a closure rate of over a thousand miles per hour between the two airplanes.

  “We have the traffic in sight, Tri Con Eleven.”

  “Roger, sir.”

  “He must be deviating too,” said Charlie.

  They confirmed the other aircraft’s altitude on their TCAS indicator and watched him disappear under the nose. Robby wrote down the time and fuel abeam JFK and announced that they were making time and fuel. They were now one minute late and only down six hundred pounds of fuel.

  The interphone chime sounded again and Britt gave the password to enter the cockpit. Robby pushed the unlock button, and when the door opened, they could smell hot food. Britt and Pam brought the trays in, and Charlie placed the aircraft logbook on his lap and set the food tray on it. He had learned long ago that the trays often had food on the bottom where they had been stacked on top of each other. The logbook saved embarrassment and cleaning bills.

  Pam asked, “Was that really New York a few minutes ago, or are you guys making stuff up?”

  Robby said, “We’re not positive, but it sounded good, don’t you think?”

  “If I didn’t know you, Robby, I would probably believe it.”

  Britt asked, “Are we on time so far?”

  Charlie said, “We’re one minute late, but we’re working on it.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, contact Boston Center 134.55.”

  “Three four point five five, Tri Con Eleven, good night ya’ll.”

  Robby enjoyed calling New Yorkers ya’ll.

  “Boston Center, Tri Con Eleven at three three zero, deviating east of course for weather.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, Boston, radar contact, deviations approved, let me know when you can come back to the left.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Charlie said, “That’s Providence, Rhode Island, over there.”

  Pam said, “How do you know?”

  “Because it says PVD on my navigation screen.”

  “Sounds like men’s underwear to me.”

  “That’s BVD.”

  “I thought you said it was Providence.”

  “You’re right, we’re lost.”

  “I thought so.”

  Britt said, “This sounds like Abbott and Costello doing their ‘Who’s on first’ routine. I’m getting dizzy. Let me know when to pick up the trays.”

  Pam said, “I’m leaving too. When you finish dinner, try to find out where we are.”

  Allen had turned his video screen to the Air Show and asked Molly, “Are these guys lost? Why are we over New York if we’re going to Spain? Why didn’t we just go straight east across the Atlantic?”

  “New York is east of Atlanta, Allen.”

  “Well, I’m not sure, but I think a straight line is the shortest distance between two points.”

  “You can’t draw a straight line on a round ball, Allen.”

  He paused to think about that and looked out the window.

  “Look, they just turned on the outside lights. That doesn’t make any sense at thirty-three thousand feet.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ray stood at the bars of the holding cell and looked at the clock above the desk sergeant. It was already after nine. He yelled, “I want my phone call! You have to give me a phone call! I’ve got important business tonight. Give me my cell phone back. My lawyer’s going to straighten you people out.
”

  The sergeant looked up, “You need to keep it down, Mr. Slackman. There are several cases ahead of you here. Just sober up a little while you wait. We’ll get to you, and you’ll get your phone call.”

  “Don’t tell me to hold it down! It’s a free country, in case you didn’t know. I don’t need to sober up.”

  “That’s not what your sobriety test said. Dude, you might be the high score of the week.

  Charlie said, “Looks like we’re clear of the weather. Robby, tell them we can come left.”

  “Boston, Tri Con Eleven, we can go on course anytime.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, thank you sir. You are cleared present position direct Tusky. Contact Moncton center on 128.45. Have a good one.”

  “Tri Con Eleven, so long.”

  “Moncton Center, Tri Con Eleven going direct Tusky at three three zero.”

  “Tri Con One-One, Moncton, radar contact, flight level three three zero, good evening, sir.”

  “Evening.”

  They were now entering Nova Scotia, and the Canadian controllers were much more proper with radio technique and phraseology. Each digit was pronounced individually. It was a little overkill for Americans, but it left less room for error with the Germans, Italians, and Ethiopians, who did not always speak perfect English.

  Alice opened the galley drawer and removed the five one-dollar bills, then began looking for the aerosol air freshener.

  Shelia said, “You know that wasn’t fair, Alice. How many beers did you give that poor man?”

  “Enough that we’re both happy. You want to go double or nothing on that poor woman you gave the liter bottle of water to?”

  “She looked dehydrated.”

  “Better luck next time. Don’t be a poor loser. It doesn’t become you.”