On the Spanish Inquisition and Big Red Trucks

               Understatement: I've been working a lot. True Statement: if I work more than three days a week it's a horrible week. And usually I'm not at work more than six hours. That's just in the Legacy C-130 school house, though. The guys in the J (newer) C-130 school house seem like hardworking people compared to us. They get excited when they hit the flight line, not because they get to fly, but because it means they have 5 day work weeks opposed to their regular six days a week. And on our side I was supposed to be in class today for 7.5 hours. Instead, 3.5 hours after class started I was already home and eating lunch.
                With that said, it feels like I have not been doing anything work related at all, but we have accomplished some actual work in the last month. We just finished a round of simulators covering flight with Night Vision Goggles (NVGs, of course). Aside from looking like a goob:

they are fascinating to fly with. It feels a lot cooler than it looks. Before the sim starts we pick up a "night kit" along with our NVGs (regrettably we are not issued our own pair) that contains a bunch of glow sticks and tape to cover incompatible lights in the cockpit. Yes, military grade glow sticks. I haven't found it necessary yet to use a glow stick but crack one open every time because I can and usually pocket one or two also just because I can (gotta take what you can get in this sequester environment).
                  The most recent sims have mostly been opportunities for the instructors to play pilot while we sit in the copilot's seat and raise and lower the gear and flaps (press a couple of buttons). They have years experience flying the 130 and it shows. Sometimes they get so drawn into the sim they forget they're supposed to be teaching and we end up watching aimlessly and trying awkwardly to somehow contribute. It's like "helping" your dad fix the car when your 5 years old.

Dad: "hand me that screwdriver."
Me: "here."
Dad: "that's a hammer."

But actually I'm getting really good at pressing the buttons and, as night simulators have proven, can usually find those buttons in the dark (with the assistance of a glow stick).
                   Night sims are over now, sadly, and we've moved on to flying formation in the weather, i.e. you can't see the other planes you are flying with. We do this by utilizing a piece of equipment called SKE that more or less uses radar to track the other planes in your formation. SKE is short for Incredibly Convoluted Process and is technologically fascinating but is more tedious and less fun in real life.

               The main topic of conversation around work lately has been whether or not any of us will have C-130 flying jobs in the near future. The Legacy C-130 Active Duty units are all being phased out and, with them, so are many of the Legacy C-130 pilots. Obviously this has an impact on the training classes. Many of the guys in our class received emails towards the beginning of our time here saying that they might be pulled from the middle or end of training and reassigned to a different job. One of our fellows was supposed to be stationed at Pope AFB in North Carolina but he got a call last week saying he won't be going there any longer. They didn't tell him where he would be going.
                Another fellow we know completely finished C-130 training then received a dream sheet (a wish list of potential jobs) from his commander, which means he definitely will not be flying the C-130. And that was AFTER he had already become a brand new, fully qualified C-130 pilot. There have been other stories of guys being pulled from the middle of a simulator into their commander's office and told they aren't going to be happy with what is about to be said. It feels somewhat like the Spanish Inquisition of C-130H pilots. We are all afraid someone's going to come banging on our door in the middle of the night and drag us out into the public square and force us to fly RPAs (remotely piloted aircraft). RPAs are the bane of every pilot and pilotdom.
                 Telling a qualified pilot he's going to be "flying" an RPA is like clipping a pilot's wings. It's like turning a stallion into a gelding, It's taking away a cowboy's horse, gun and hat, replacing them with a laptop, a tie and a nice pair of slacks and telling him, "Good news! We've implanted microchips in all our cows' brains. Now you can herd them with this laptop from the inside of this windowless cubicle. Don't worry, you can still wear your boots. Just make sure to take off the spurs."  

               On a fun note, one of my friends, Brandon, is a firefighter and let a couple of us play on the firetruck:

Deploying the ladder anchors. Who doesn't love a firetruck?

From atop the 100' ladder. 

Room for three in the bucket plus a cooler. Would've stayed up there longer but I didn't have any sunscreen.

360* of ROTATION!!

Grey Hairs and More Hiking

I don’t often drink coffee so when I do (as I just did) I get incredibly jittery and cannot type fast enough. Unfortunately that means a lot of backspacing because my fingers can’t keep up with the jitter demand. Uncorrected it looks like this: and thishtsei ywhwyehth I diecided to tkekerp tbackaosohfodndniong.

I came to Little Rock with no expectations but lots of excitement. I couldn't nail down why exactly I was excited to get here and, now that I am here, I still can’t express why I love it so much. A great deal of it was the first impression - granted, coming from Columbus, the standard for a “fun” city (considering only what the city has to offer (not including the people)) was pretty low - which went something like, “hey! There’s stuff to do here!” Little Rock offers an abundance of running trails and runners to go with it. On even a marginal weather day it would be unusual to see anything less than a horde of people on the trails running, walking, biking or, occasionally, sleeping (but usually that occurs slightly off the trails beneath an underpass close to sunset or just after dawn).

My parents came to visit and we "hiked" (mostly climbed) Pinnacle Mountain.
Mama didn't bring her shirt.

When I moved here I did not consider myself a “runner.” After hitting the trails a few times, though, and reading the book Born to Run, by Christopher McDougal, I caught the fever. Now, on a weekday I go for 6ish miles a pop and on a Saturday I’ll run 13-15 miles - that’s roughly 10 times as many miles as used to run in one go (as in the mile and a half during the yearly Physical Fitness Test) and approximately 13-15 times more than I ever wanted to run. I’m surprising myself. After reading Born to Run my goal was to simply enjoy running. I think it’s working.

Amidst the funtivities I still manage to fit some C-130 training in. Our class is nearing Phase 1 completion and our schedule has started slowing down. Training here has been immensely more enjoyable than at SUPT. There are no weekly EPQs or humiliating shotgun questions. I am also more motivated to know the aircraft systems and performance on an intimate level since this is the plane I will be flying for the foreseeable future (unless it gets sequestered, too). Unlike SUPT, we are encouraged to work as a crew and not trained to do everything solo. Back in Columbus if I as the pilot made a mistake and the other student sitting co-pilot caught the mistake and tried to fix it we were both chastised. I for making a mistake and the co-pilot for not letting me make the mistake. Here they say a crew save is a good save. It takes away a load of stress and encourages the team environment, which I thrive on.

These are the C-130 simulators we use.

This is what it looks like from the inside

And this is what we pretend we look like

The instructors here are mostly all salty, salty Vietnam veterans who have been flying the C-130 for over 20 years and instructing on the simulators for another 15-20 years - obviously a wealth of experience and knowledge. 

He's probably laughing at a dirty joke

After one simulator profile my flying partner, Ross, and I were corrected by the instructor pilot, instructor engineer and instructor navigator for descending in the weather during part of the mission. The details are not important but I found myself wanting to quibble then it hit me that all of these guys had grey hair. Stress might cause grey hair but you never get old by making fatal mistakes and dying young. When three grey haired, salty Vietnam vets tell you what you did was stupid and dangerous it pays to listen (their opinions on how to best work an iPhone or iPad, though, can usually be disregarded).

One of the few drawbacks to having an experienced instructor is that sometimes they can talk for, like, ever about the C-130 and take up the whole 3 hours slotted for a mission prebrief. You can often gauge how long a prebrief will take by the number of “war stories” told. Want to know about how to deal with an engine fire or throttle control cable failure? There’s a story for that. Have a question on the alternate gear-extension method? There are a few stories for that. Want to know how stupid and useless the Temperature Datum Control System is? Better believe there is a story AND a long soapbox dialogue on that. Want to hear how to solve the debt crisis and save the Air Force $300 million a year on C-130 training? There is a whole story and even a slideshow with videos for that. Oftentimes a student will bring up one of those political rabbit trails on purpose with the full knowledge it will take the next 2 hours to fully discuss because, frankly, my ability to learn ended with my patience about 10 minutes into the brief.

Anything to do with politics is always a winner but every instructor has a hot button they love to talk about: remodeling a yard, classic cars, motorcycles, guns, basketball, grandkids, college football, what a pain his son-in-law’s dog is. If you know you will have the same instructor for more than one simulator mission the goal is to find his hot button the first go. Keep prodding until you find it then never let it go. When he says, “Well, that’s enough about that,” counter with, “what other pieces of your furniture has his dog destroyed?” This saves mileage on the brain cells down the road and will help preserve your patience which, trust me, will NOT last for a whole three hour lecture on how the prop feathers (THOUGHT BUBBLE: “Ok. He’s pausing. Nod your head and say something like, ‘that makes sense.’”). Or you could spend an hour showing them the wonders of their iPhone.

A City with a View

             As I saw Columbus Air Force Base disappear in my rear-view mirror all I could think of was which type of hand towel holder I would put in my new bathroom. Not that I consider Columbus a zit on the history book of my life. I was fortunate enough to meet amazing people and form incredible relationships in just a year and a half that will have a lasting and positive impact on the rest of my life. I cannot express how thankful I am for those friendships and I look forward to fostering them as time goes on. It's just that Columbus is a zit. Flat and swampy. I love hiking, and I knew of trails in Columbus. But the visuals of tree, swamp, tree, tree, swamp and tree can discourage even the heartiest of outdoors-men. We often drove 45 minutes to Starkville to have fun. Stark-ville.

(STARK:
a : barren, desolate

b (1) : having few or no ornaments : bare <a stark white room> (2) : harsh, blunt <the stark realities of death>)

Whoever named the town was brutally honest. 

           Little Rock is a breath of fresh air. There's more than one main road and they have multiple Targets and Starbucks - neither of which do I adore by any means (Target is too red and I only drink coffee on the occasional weekend), but they are signs of even greater things. My apartment sits next to the Arkansas River and on a road that's part of the River Trail that makes a 15 mile loop. The trail stays next to the river throughout the loop, but on the north side there are some single track dirt trails that run along the bluffs that overlook the river and downtown Little Rock. I found the trails on accident when I went running earlier in the week. They make running enjoyable:

                 Of course being in Little Rock means I've started doing something again. Classes for the C-130H program began last Tuesday. The first test is this Tuesday. They waste no time in turning on the firehose of information. Which means we got these,

along with CDs of extra information and study guides. But we also got some new fun stuff like a heavy duty backpack, flashlight and safety belt (for being safe).

                 Since we all came from SUPT (Specialized Undergraduate Pilot Training) this schoolhouse can be considered a graduate program. The benefit is that you are no longer treated as a newb student pilot (sadly it feels like I brain dumped everything from SUPT so that might still be a regretfully accurate title). There's no hand-holding through the program so you don't get babied as much. Unfortunately that means there is no hand-holding in the program so you don't get babied as much. Through SUPT we were told what we needed to know, how to study to know it and given constant tests and quizzes and embarrassingly public shotgun questions to ensure we were learning. It entails zero fun and little free time. Here they only tell us what we are responsible for knowing and the learning is left completely up to us. It's freeing but a little intimidating at the same time.

                   The first day the instructor jumped right into painfully detailed information about the engine and propellers. Things like Temperature Datum Control Valves, an assortment of fly-weights, pistons, springs, back-up systems, back-up system back-ups and Turbine Inlet Temperature (which, given the Air Force's proclivity for acronyms, offers an endless supply of jokes and cautious laughter (it is a PC Air Force after all (but all of our instructors are crusty old retired dudes so they don't care))). 

                Overall, it seems a little more laid back than SUPT but with an extra dose of responsibility. There's no formal release here so, once academics are over, there won't be any mandatory 12 hour days. Not to say there won't be long days. To save money (and probably lives) most of our training is accomplished in simulators. We become fully qualified C-130 pilots before we ever touch the airplane. There are only 4-5 simulator machines, though, and with multiple classes vying for those sims all the time that means they run 24 hours a day. Most sims require a 3 hour pre-brief followed by a 3 hour sim and topped with a 1 hour debrief. That means your show time for a sim could be 9 pm and you wouldn't be headed home until 4 in the morning. It's dastardly but necessary.

                 If you're reading this then pray for dedication to things that matter. Obviously I am here to learn how to fly the 130 and I want to do that well - better than I did at UPT. But I'm only here 6 months and it would be too easy to shove aside things that matter always, regardless of where you are, in the name of, "I've only got six months to learn this stuff so I can sacrifice anything else for that long." Mostly that's relationships, whether with people or with the Lord. "Whoever is faithful in very little is also faithful in much." This is mostly related within the context of talents and material possessions but I think it can also relate to how we use our time. If we are dedicated to fostering friendships when we are busy then how much more will we be able to foster those same relationships and others when we have more time? Not sure how to end this poetically so I'll just stop.

What's to talk about?

And then a year passed. Not much happened. And right now I'm stuck in the less enjoyable Air Force. It's not the Real Air Force, or so I'm told. I often hear rumors of The Real Air Force and how where ever I am at the moment is not it ("Ya this place is frustrating but don't worry. It isn't the REAL Air Force"). Some friends of mine have gone to places they heard was the Real Thing only to find that, alas, it was actually somewhere else. Maybe it's mobile. I hope I get there one day because it sounds rather like heaven. Everyone loves their job all the time and things are much, much simpler. Things like out-processing. Which is all I'm doing right now.

I'm supposed to start C-130 training in Little Rock on January 22nd. I'm supposed to PCS to Cheyenne in August. I have the orders to go to one of those places. Apparently, if this were the Real Air Force, I'd have the orders in hand which made more since chronologically. Alas, this is not the Real Air Force. Out-processing from a base involves taking a checklist around to a variety of offices to get stuff signed and retrieve paper work. Some of these offices require orders. Some of these offices won't let you out-process until you are 3-5 (or fewer) days away from your final out-processing date (the day you leave the base). The only way you know you're final out-processing date is by looking at your orders. Here in-lies the rub.

I was, at first, going into these offices and when they asked for my out-processing date I'd say that I didn't know because I didn't have my orders but that I was sure it was soon because my class starts in a couple of weeks. This got me no where. But I'm a quick learner - these instances. Now, when asked the same question, I reply confidently with a satisfactory date (after some quick mental math). It might be lying but it could also be the truth. And that's been 2013 so far. Also I moved a sleeper sofa out of my house onto a moving truck all by myself. As for 2012...

I feel somewhat guilty for not conveying what this past year has been like so, even though it will be impossible to report everything, I'll give it a go. Firstly, I distinctly remember 2012 as being a year in which I threw-up considerably less than 2011:

This past year has been the busiest and most trying year of my life. All the way through college I became accustomed to succeeding well at anything I applied myself to do. Pilot training, however, has been a great lesson in humility for me. A good lesson but a hard lesson. Overall it felt like I was running a hurdle race and knocking every hurdle down on the way to the finish. It's not how anyone dreams of racing. I finished, but it wasn't pretty. In fact at times it was Ugly vomited into sick bags (literally; and lots of it).

Like I said, though, it was a good lesson. I had to separate myself from my pride because really I had no achievements of my own to stand on. I've been able to hide past failures but these were very public and embarrassing. I couldn't hide from them. Those around me were encouraging but sometimes that made it worse. I dreamed of being lauded for my excellent skills, not of being patted on the back and told, "it happens to everyone. Shake it off and don't worry about it." It was quite frustrating. While coming up short I can't ever remember thinking, "well God's just trying to teach me something," but looking back it's always obvious He was.

It's always good to be brought low. It makes you realize that you always have been low, you just thought you were a big deal. It's not as if God thinks, "ooh, well this guy's getting way too good at life. Time to chop his legs out from under him before he gets any better." It's more of God drawing the curtain back from our eyes, revealing how inadequate and self-insufficient we are and always have been. And in addition to that God often keeps us from our selfish desires in order to give us what we really want. It would be a long, tedious explanation if I tried to go into details into the selection process the Air Force has for pilots (it actually wouldn't be that bad; I just don't want to do it), but if pilot training went how I pictured it (leaping gazelle-like over every hurdle and finishing in first place, all the while holding a gorgeous girl in one arm and an unspilt glass of scotch in the other) I would have ended up somewhere I didn't want to go, flying an airplane I really did not want to fly. But since I completed the race the way God desired I'm heading someplace I really want to go and will be flying an aircraft I am very excited about. That's the big picture of this past year. The details are fuzzy, though. 

Pilots are professionals. Professionals at finding something to complain about, and I could go on and on if I wanted (unless, of course, I was in the Real Air Force). But we really are incredibly fortunate. Just in the past 1 1/2 years I've been allowed to do things only a select few get to do in their lifetime - and get paid to do it. The risk, the pain and the vomit were definitely worth it (the vomiting, though, at the time, was not worth it). Back in Febuaryish of 2012 my wingman (as in the an actual wingman, not as in the guy who helps you pick up lady-friends at the bar) and I finished our required maneuvers quickly during a daily ride in T6 formation training. There were towering pillars of clouds in our practice area and we had 15 minutes left before we needed to head back to base. Our IPs took control and started playing chase in and out and around the pillars. Yankin-and-bankin and splitting the uprights. I was having so much fun I couldn't stop laughing. No way in the world I was getting paid to do that. Every retired Air Force or Navy pilot I talk to always, always tells me they would give up everything they have just to go back to the beginning where I am. The beginning where you know so little and only have everything to learn. I didn't understand that when I was throwing up and coming up short. But it's the days you can't stop laughing that you remember. It's those days that make them want to come back. I'll probably be there one day. For now, though, I'm grateful I don't keep a sick sack in my pocket all the time - just in case.

Weather and Cheques

And then I was halfway through. Can't believe October was three months ago and can't believe how much I didn't know then. My present self would impress my past self. And it's becoming more and more fun. If I get to fly tomorrow then there's a good chance I might fly two area solo rides Sunday (flying on the weekends to catch up on lost time). Which means I'll be able to do whatever I want within a 5 mile radius, 6,000 foot area. Probably just straight and level for a long while before I get up the gumption to do something crazy, like a 30 deg turn. But seriously it should be fun.

We're not as far along as was planned. There have been a lot of weather days that prevented any flight from taking off. It doesn't have to be storming or raining for the weather conditions to ground us. Sometimes the cloud deck is simply too low. Lots of low clouds in the winter. If there were no weather days from the first day I flew a T-6 until now I would probably be 3/4 of the way done with the syllabus. Now, though, I'm marginally halfway through. It's not only our flight that's behind either. Yesterday, both T-6 training squadrons were told to expect weekend flights every week until further notice. That means 6 day work weeks from here on out until we are able to catch up. A lot of students are being dropped back a class in order for the rest to be able to finish T-6s on time.

Our class is finally almost to the end of Contact rides, which means we can begin instrument and formation rides. This will help us catch back up since those type of sorties don't need the perfect weather contact rides do. The downside to the new sorties is all the new information we become responsible for, and that has become painfully evident in our weekly Emergency Procedure Quizzes. A couple of weeks ago we were at the point that we no longer needed to study for EPQs because all of the quizzable information had become so familiar. With new information comes new questions. And the new information consists of hundreds and hundreds of pages. EPQ questions can be anything from asking what a number is to filling in the blank from a seemingly random one-liner from one of the documents. 85% is failing. We've been failing. Oh well.

On a happier note, I moved into a house with a couple of other guys. In the dorms I forgot how awesome it was to not be able to see the TV from any where in the room (a point I enjoyed at first). Now I'm enjoying stretching my arms out and not touching two walls or being in the bedroom and the kitchen at the same time. It's a four bedroom house with two large bedrooms and two small (large closets) bedrooms. We decided the other two guys could have the big rooms and I got the two small rooms. So now I have a library/study. I've always wanted a study, though I pictured it with more mahogany and leather bound books. Still chill.

On a sad note, I got some cash out of an ATM machine (a game I always win) but drove off without taking my debit card back out. No worries, I cancelled it. But before I realized I no longer had a debit card I used the cash to buy an end table at an antique store (which is why I got the cash). Afterwards I needed to get groceries (mostly bread) and it was then I realized I had no card. I panicked for a few quiet moments in my truck wondering all the ways this might destroy my happiness. After I returned to reality I decided to go back to the bank to see if I could get my card out/back. They were closed (because it was after 5pm). Accepting the worse (that my card would be shredded before I could get it back), I tried to figure out some other way to buy groceries. Also it was pouring outside and I walked through a lake at some point.

Checks. I could write a check. But I couldn't remember the last time I took a checkbook into a store and used it to buy anything. Do stores still take checks? Then I remembered the many times I had been standing in line at the grocery, being in a hurry, frustrated with myself that I had chosen the only line with the check-writing-senior-citizen. Scribble scribble, big number, sign, riiiiip "ching." That's how it should go. Instead you feel like you're watching live art exhibition. I always find myself trying to mentally help them write faster, leaning forward as if the change in pressure will help guide their hands more swiftly across the "sign here" line. I felt like I shouldn't be seen using such an archaic form of legal tender that's usually accompanied with butter pecan ice cream and a Lincoln Town car.

With this fresh in my mind, and my checkbook in hand I proceeded to the base commissary, dreading the judging eyes of the customers in line behind me. Also, I didn't know who to make the check out too. I rushed through the store only grabbing a few things, feeling like if I bought fewer items the embarrassment would be less severe. Not so. As the cashier began ringing up the food I reluctantly drew out my checkbook bracing myself for the eye rolls. The line was already growing. Before all the items were ringed up I thought I might speed up the process by filling out what I could. My name. Check. Date. Close enough. Pause...the "for" line at the bottom. I put "groceries." Seemed appropriate.

The cashier finished so I waited for her to tell me the final price...nothing. I waited a little longer...still nothing, not even a glance. So I looked at the computer and wrote that price down. Nothing was said so apparently that was the wise choice. Then the great dread. Was it, "who do I make the check out to?" or "To whom do I make the check out?" Or maybe she would notice I had no clue and give me a hint. I looked around. Maybe there was a helpful sign like, "all checks should be made out to:_______". I looked around everywhere I could without seeming like I was looking around. No such sign. No such help. The line began to lean in. I felt the pressure. The sweat dripped down my palms, soaking the check and smudging the ink. I can't remember if I asked "to whom" or "who" but I asked something. She cocked her head around, tightened her lips and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" She didn't actually say that but she looked that. She pointed to the left of where my checkbook was and said, "There's a stamp." I guess it was then she guessed I didn't know how the world worked. She picked up the stamp labeled "FOR CHECKS" and stamped my check and told me to write some other stuff on it I clearly would never had guessed to write. Checkbook in my pocket, groceries in one hand, sweat in the other, I returned home with a greater respect for our senior citizens and a resolve to starve rather than buy anything else until my replacement debit card comes in the mail. Also I forgot the bread.

One Week from the Greatest Amusement Park Ride Ever

It's a Monday and surprisingly my day has been done since before 11am. We had a test this morning and my last simulator before the flight line will most likely be tomorrow. We only have one more subject, weather, and a test for it on Friday until our Dollar ride a week from today. The last 7 weeks actually feels like 7 seven weeks. It hasn't flown by or seemed to drag on either. I guess that means there's been a good balance of stuff to do and time not doing stuff. And we are no longer the freshman class with 13-01 already more than two weeks into their syllabus. Which is beneficial because I finally feel superior (however slightly) to at least someone. I finally know some things someone else doesn't.

Knowing the flight-line starts a week from today is a little nerve wrecking. We've spent most of our time learning how to stay alive in emergencies and uncontrolled flight and very little time learning the finer points of how to fly. Flying with an emergency, though, is in some ways easier than flying normally. If everything's good you have to adhere to all flight standards, altitudes, flight paths, controller directions, radio etiquette, maps, everything. But once you declare an emergency you're allowed to do whatever you want. Even rob a bank. For instance if I say on the radio, "Cujo 25, 5 miles, request straight-in" the controller can say, "negative straight-in" which means I have to go ALL the way around again unless I say, "Cujo 21 declaring an emergency, fire in flight." Sure, that means my plane's on fire but now I can do a straight-in. Saves time and money. The biggest draw to an in-flight emergency in this plane is the potential to eject.

Some would ask, "why?" As much as they say the captain goes down with the ship, I hope this makes it obvious. Makes this lame. They say you can only eject twice before you're physiologically disqualified from ever flying an ejection capable airplane again. Might as well go one-and-done. Besides, you break one airplane, they just give you another.

Living on base has it's perks, especially for early morning shows, but it also has it's drawbacks. One is engine tests late at night, "they keep crankin it on and crankin it off!" The number 1 drawback is when reveille is played at 7am and retreat at 5pm over the PA loudspeakers. If you're on base in the car when either is played you have to stop the vehicle until it's over. If you're walking you have to stop, come to attention and salute. It's really just an inconvenience but after the first two times you find yourself planning out your whole day to avoid the outdoors from 6:58am-7:02am and 4:58pm-5:02pm. Some people even set alarms. You know you're in trouble if you're halfway between the parking lot and a building when you see some people who were previously walking start sprinting into the nearest shelter. You look around and realize you are the only soul outside for as far as the eye can see. No cars, no people, no dogs, nothing; just crickets. Then you hear the ominous crackle over the loudspeaker and you know your day is ruined. Instead of music someone might as well come on and say, "GOTCHA, SUCKA!" And you know you're being watched. If a group is inside the computer lab and someone starts packing their bags to walk outside at 4:59 pm the gentlemanly thing to do would be to caution the individual from exiting the building within the next 5 minutes. But usually everyone watches the him walk outside then rushes to the windows to watch him get caught. And we all laugh. A good day.

Belcher Bench

We are in the middle of the first section of academics, Physiology. This section covers the human body and how it reacts in a flight environment. We've gone over subjects like altitude threats, pressurization, vision, G-forces and spatial disorientation. Some of the stuff we go over we get to demo. Friday we had a night vision demo. It mainly consisted of sitting in a dark room and telling the instructor (who you couldn't see), "No, I have no idea what the image on the screen is," because it looked like this:
.
Or just guessing, "airplane," because that was usually it. Great fun and made everyone sleepy.

Today was much more interactive but had a much less calming affect. Today the instructor demonstrated spatial disorientation (basically motion sickness) by putting us through the barany chair demo.


This is not the actual chair we sat in but it looks just like it. We each took turns sitting in the chair and getting spun. The instructor had different people demonstrate different forms of spatial disorientation, usually by having us put our head somewhere other than erect. I got spun around for a good 20 seconds with my head erect and then was told to put my right ear on my right shoulder. A nanosecond after it felt like I was being thrown out of the chair and that my stomach was no longer anywhere near my body. The same sensation came when my head tilted left, up or down. Horrible, horrible, horrible. Worst thing ever. After the instructor stopped the chair I realized I was sweating almost profusely, felt too much like throwing up and didn't fully recover until two hours later when I was able to lie down in my room for 15 minutes. If one was on the verge of deciding whether to go fighters or cargo this demo would most def solidify the heavies. Everyone else who did that same demo had the same reaction as well and swore a lot so I don't have to feel like a weenie about this. It was reaaallly funny to watch other people do it until it was your turn. After that looking at the chair made your stomach upset.

So far the in-class demonstrations have not impressed me.