Adventures in Flight: Penguin in the Left Seat

The sun had set and a dark purple curtain of darkness had fallen. There wasn't enough light to be illuminating, yet it wasn't quite dark enough to say it was night time. I could still see the features of landscape in the distance, but only as darkened objects against the lighter colored sky. I sat in the left seat of a 747 cockpit, the one normally reserved for the plane’s captain. I’m no captain. I’m not even a pilot. I would like to be, but I’m not. But there I was, sitting in the left seat; the engines turning and the lights at the forward landing gear lighting up the centerline of the runway.

In front of me was runway 28-right, the longest of the four runways at San Francisco’s International Airport. A real captain was in the right seat next to me and he hit a switch, turning on the plane's landing lights, thus illuminating the runway from one side to the other. Past the runway I could see San Bruno Mountain with its antenna towers blinking on and off. I looked to my left and could see the headlights of the cars moving along highway 101 and was happy to not be sitting in the backup of traffic. To my right was the company's large maintenance hangar and the San Francisco bay was beyond that.

Captain Henry was more than my co-pilot today. He was guiding me through the step by step process of our mission. He finished inputting data into the plane’s computer and we were ready to roll. But first he wanted me to experience taxiing this behemoth. At his instruction, I pushed the throttles forward just over an inch. I heard the engines rev up, felt the vibration and then the plane slowly started to move. With my left hand on the tiller, I began to control the direction the plane went. As we lurched forward, the wheels began to run across the centerline lights and I could feel the plane vibrate over them.

A747 photo by Penguin Scott

I felt like this was a dream. I've longed to ride in a 747 cockpit for a very long time. I remember taking a small Cessna from Maryland to New Jersey back in 1999; I was so excited. After we landed, I spoke to my pilot friend about how great it would be to fly in the cockpit of a commercial jetliner. He agreed, and I've since done that. But here I was, in the cockpit- the left seat at that- at the controls. It was no dream.

I was instructed to turn right, off of runway 28R, and return the plane to its takeoff position at the start of the long runway. Capt. Henry gave me a stern warning- I was turning too soon. “Don’t forget, the wheels are behind you. You have to pass the center line and then make the turn.” While saying this, he assisted me with the tiller on his side of the cockpit and corrected my mistake. It was a hard thing for me to learn as I did it again on my next turn, for which I was rewarded with another stern warning.

Steering a plane is nothing like steering a car. It doesn’t respond well to small corrections made often. Basically, what I needed to do was put the tiller in one position and let it go. Constant corrections only make the plane continually zig-zag down the taxiway. By the time I learned this, my taxi was complete.

Back at the start of runway 28R, we were now ready for take off. I was buckled in and ready for the task of letting this 747 loose, to tear down the runway and lift off into the night sky. Capt. Henry instructed me to push the throttles forward. There were four; one for each engine, and they all moved in sync. It took a second and then the power hit the engines and the plane lurched forward, gaining speed down the runway. I asked the captain when to rotate. He seemed impressed with my knowledge of this.

When I was in flight attendant initial training, nine years previous, I had the opportunity to sit in a cockpit for the duration of a flight, from push back to block-in. After taking off, I had the chance to ask questions. This is when I learned that the point at which the pilot pulls back on the stick to make the plane take off is the point at which one of the pilots say, "Rotate." And now, in the 747 cockpit, not sure if he'd state that point of the takeoff roll or not, Capt. Henry said he’d tell me when to do so.

About half way down the runway, he told me to pull back. I did and the plane lifted up. Capt. Henry pushed a lever and the wheels retracted. I could hear them do so and could feel them take their place in the wheel well somewhere below me, just as I had felt so many times before from inside the airplane cabin. He pointed to an artificial horizon (or the attitude indicator) on a screen in front of me and showed me at what point to keep the nose on the screen to keep our current rate of climb. If the plane started to sink below this line, I pulled back a bit. If it started to get too high, I pushed down. Then I was instructed to make a left turn.



As I began to turn the stick, and as the plane began to bank to the left, I noticed that I was losing my rate of climb, so I pulled back on the stick. It was difficult and took a bit of strength. I was concentrating so hard on keeping the rate of climb, that I ignored the turn. I got another stern warning from the right seat, “Watch your turn or you’ll end up in the drink,” which was slang for water, or in this case, the Pacific Ocean.

We were now over the water just off the coast of Pacifica, which was my home. I looked up and out of the cockpit window and we were in a very steep bank. He grabbed the wheel in front of him and corrected it back to a normal left turn. It was a good thing the cockpit has two sets of throttles so he could make the flight corrections we needed.

His warnings reminded me a lot of my grandfather teaching me to drive. I spent my summers visiting my grandparents in the Texas Panhandle. Once I had my learner's permit, he went with me on a short drive. He had a tendency to sound a bit more stern than I'm sure he meant to, but he made his point and was concerned about me wrapping his nice car around a pole, or worse, another car. And like my grandfather, Capt. Henry was concerned about our safety, not to mention that of our flight.

The turn was completed and we were now flying steady at about eight thousand feet just off the coast of California. I could see the car lights on Hwy. 1. Capt. Henry instructed the woman in the jump seat directly behind me to hit a switch and suddenly the windows went blank; nothing to see but a gray screen. Another switch was hit and the windows came back to life. Suddenly, the view changed to about five miles south of the airport. We were now over the bay, frozen in time, suspended as if in a video game.

But this was no ordinary video game. This was a multi million dollar simulator, used by the best pilots of the company for training purposes. My captain in the right seat was a flight instructor. And I had just taxied and taken off a 747 airplane. Not a real one, of course. But you can’t get any closer to the real thing than one of these simulators. From the traffic on highway 101 and the blinking lights of the towers on San Bruno Mountain, to the wheels crossing the lights on the runway and the feel of the wheels retracting after takeoff, everything was as real as the real thing itself.

From the outside, I was in a contraption supported by numerous jacks that control a motion platform. On the inside, I was in a 747 cockpit just like any other in our fleet. Inputs made from inside controlled the motion platform, which was calibrated in such a manner that even the slightest motion, like the wheel going over the center line, made a movement noticeable in the cockpit.

A flight simulator

We were now ready to land, and with the hit of another switch we were again moving. The lights of the city below were angled as the nose of the plane was pointed at the beginning of the runway we were about to land on. As we crossed the San Mateo Bridge, he lowered the landing gear. As they locked into place, they added drag on the plane's flight, and we could feel that in the cockpit as slight vibrations. Looking at the attitude indicator, I kept the box on the artificial horizon where it was supposed to be for our landing. I thought Capt. Henry did most of the flying on the approach, but he swears it was all me. I know this plane can land itself, and it really did seem to fly quite easily.

The plane came to a stop. I had landed. The switches were hit and the screens went blank again. When they came back on, we were at the start of runway 28R once more. I got out of the left seat and Sandy, the flight attendant seated behind me climbed in. Now it was her turn to fly and mine to observe.

I was at our main training facility for my annual recurrent emergency training (RET) to refresh my skills of being a flight attendant. Once a year, we are required to practice opening and closing airplane doors, drill emergency procedures, recertify our AED and CPR skills, and get hands on experience using emergency equipment, such as fire extinguishers. I normally do this at my home base in the Bay Area, where I also live. But for some reason, this year I was sent to the facility where the pilots also train. And after a few of us in class expressed interest in a tour of one of the huge simulators, our instructor was able to arrange for Capt. Henry to meet us early the next day. I had no idea he’d actually let us “fly”, but it was the thrill of a lifetime!

After we completed our takeoff and landing, we went to class, a bit later than planned. I was so excited that I was actually still shaky from the experience. The instructor had informed the class as to why we were late and he asked me how I liked it. I told him that I felt much the same way after my first time sky diving. It was a thrill, exhilarating, and a dream come true. I was on a high like none other! Every nerve tingled. Every sense was alive. I had just taxied, taken off and landed a 747. Not a real one, but the realest I’ll ever get. It was an amazing experience that I'll not soon forget!

A 747 landing at LAX

Things Learned from my Father

Two ships in the Caribbean


For many years I've been giving credit to Mother for my better qualities. My parents split when I was a toddler, so I have no memories of the two of them being together. I no longer know my father, and even though my issues with him are mountainous, I do have to credit him for teaching me some valuable lessons in life.

My parents divorced when I was about two and my father moved away. He moved to Dallas when I was 13 and I moved in with him just before entering 8th grade. It must have been a huge inconvenience for Gary, who was a card-carrying bachelor and one of god's gifts to society, although no one else seemed to get that memo.

One day, in my sophomore year in high school, he comes to tell me that for Thanksgiving, he and I would be going on a vacation to the Bahamas. I was really excited about this. We flew in first class and stayed in a nice hotel with rich surroundings and a pink exterior. Our room looked out towards the ocean. I could see the pool and there, beyond, a little pier with a gazebo, jutting over the water.

It was here that I had my first experience with cruise ships. My step-father worked in the shipping industry, so he had taken me on tours of large ships in the Houston Ship Channel. But these huge, white palaces full of revelers and lights…for a young teen, they were whole worlds yet to be explored.

Using binoculars, I watched with great interest as huge cruise ships would start out as a white speck on the horizon and slowly grow in size as they would near port. I soon noticed the tug boats leaving the dock to help bring them into port. Gary saw my interest in them, and one day asked if I wanted to go see one up close. I sure did! And as we approached the ship, he said, "Let's go on board and look around." But could we? With no time to debate, all I could do was follow.

One thing I learned from my father was that if there is something you want to do, do so with authority and like you are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing. There may be questions of whether or not it is ethical, but if executed just right, one could get away with anything.

The next thing I know, he was talking with the people at the gang way, and we were soon going up the steps inside the ship. It was just that easy. We walked into the casino, now quite deserted, since gambling only took place in the open waters. We went high, onto the upper decks, and enjoyed the view out to sea. Then we crossed over to the port side and looked out onto the island, a view from such heights we had not enjoyed up to now.

I looked down to the ground and to the dock and saw ropes being undone and the gang way we'd come in on beginning to move on board. I punched my father for his attention to this detail and at the same moment, without either of us saying a word, we bolted towards the stairs and down them, post haste. I've never seen my father move so quickly in my life!



When we got to the door, after only being on board for 10 minutes, he had to explain that we were not passengers; they were very reluctant to let us off. He told them someone outside had let us come on, but earlier, I think he more or less made them think we belonged on board. The man in uniform muttered something about being lucky that we weren't arrested as stowaways. The gang way was returned to the dock and I followed Gary off the large ship, having to walk quickly to follow him, as his tail went between his legs.

He slowed down only after turning the corner, back on the street towards our hotel. We both had a laugh while catching our breath; glad to be back where we belonged. I asked him what would have happened had we become stuck on board. He supposed that we would just have fun as stowaways until the next port, where we'd have gotten off and found a flight back to Nassau! He said this like it was no big deal and I almost wished that had been reality. What an adventure to tell back home!

It was a huge lesson for me, watching him work his magic and seeing it blow up in his face. And the lesson learned wasn't so much how to make things work in my favor as it was that each action has a consequence. I know what he did was wrong; he didn't have to lecture on that. But I knew there was a power there, and if I were willing to use it, I had to be willing to accept the ramifications of doing so.

The following day was spent at the pool. It was the early '80s, so, as was the fashion with teens, I had my portable tape player, headphones and a collection of tapes of my favorite music. Gary spent a few hours with me and then disappeared; probably off to a bar to hit on women as usual (if they only knew).

I looked out towards the horizon where I could see a white speck. Reaching for the binoculars, I could see that it was another large cruise ship heading right for us. I looked over to where the docks were and could see a tug boat and its captain readying it for launch. I grabbed my things, dashed to the room and then to the dock. When I got to the tug, I looked up to the captain, a large, surly man with a beard and a hat and wearing yellow cover-alls, and asked if he was going to bring that ship in. And then I asked if I could come along. He welcomed me aboard, showed me upstairs and said that I had to stay there, out of the way. "I won't move," I assured him.

After reaching the balcony and looking down, I saw the last mooring line being pulled in and then we were off, just like that. Had I been a minute later, I would not be on board. And it suddenly dawned on me what I had just done. I didn't tell my father where I had gone. I asked a stranger if I could ride on his boat out to sea, while he was busy working to bring in a huge vessel. A smile graced my face as the wind blew my hair and I felt so alive. There was nothing I couldn't do. And I knew my father would be proud of me.

We reached the huge boat not too far out, took in some lines and pulled it back to Nassau. People lined the rails of the ship and waved down to me. The tug seemed so small next to that large boat and I felt as big as the ship in my success. I waved back like I was in charge of the whole operation.

The tug docked and the man who let me on motioned for me to come down, which I did. I thanked the crew and jumped on land and ran back to the hotel, where I found Gary. While not too concerned, he asked quite simply where I had been. Indeed, he was impressed.

My father was also successful at the bar, where he'd met a lady. He informed me that she was staying at a resort on the nearby island, and had offered for the two of us to join her for dinner.

The island was a short taxi ride. We reached a guard house and the man within seemed hesitant to let our cab go through. I paid little attention to what he said, but I recall feeling a little uncomfortable with the story Gary was making up. But the story did its job and the gate arm lifted to allow us to proceed. He looked over to me with this look on his face. It was like he'd just gotten past the palace guards. All that was left was to conquer the king. Or in this case- queen.

We left the cab at the main entrance to a luxurious all-inclusive resort. There were lush trees and bushes, sandy areas with bars and the beach could be heard nearby. Tables were being set with linens and nice, white china and all around were sexy, young couples, in varying degrees of intoxication. I've never seen such a collection of string bikinis, and so much cleavage!

Caribbean Sunset


Gary found his date, who greeted me with enthusiasm. They spoke briefly and then we walked to the dinner table. We dinned on steak and shrimp that night under a canopy of stars and palm trees. I had a virgin daiquiri, but Gary let me sip on some of his as well. It wasn’t so virgin. As dinner concluded, a man took the stage. Before I knew it, there was a call for volunteers from the audience to come and do a dance number. Gary prodded me into going up. I didn't want to, but finally gave in, not realizing at the time that it was a way for him to be alone with his lady friend. So there I am on stage, dancing like I was born to do so. One song blended into the next. Each time a song ended, a few people left the stage. But I remained, loving the attention of being in the spotlight. I'd look down to our table to see Gary and this girl. He'd look at me with a proud smile and give me the thumbs up and a wink. He had a look on his face like he wished I could stay on that stage all night.

Soon, my part in the show was over. There was a statue given out, but sadly, not to me, which sent me back to my table empty-handed and sweaty. "Let's go for a walk," Gary exclaimed. My father had also taught me good manners, and was big on chivalry. I folded my napkin and placed it along side my plate, as I had learned to do, pushed my seat in, and dutifully followed my father and this poor woman to the sandy beach. Before long, I lost them in the night air as I ventured off on my own to explore. It was a very nice resort, more secluded than our pink palace in town with its private beach and views of the harbor.

He later took me back to the hotel and then left again, saying he was going out for the night (meaning back to the resort to screw around with that lady). I walked out onto the pier, as seen from my room. It was a windy night and I loved to feel the breeze on my face. I put in a Stevie Nicks tape and reflected on our holiday weekend in the Caribbean. I thought about all that we had gotten away with. And thinking back on our flight from Dallas, he hadn't bought first class tickets. He had talked his way into those seats and then got a bag full of minis to boot! He talked his way onto the cruise ship, into the resort for dinner and had me feeling no fear in going out to sea on my own. Gary had taught me a lot on that trip, that you can get away with just about anything! He really was a smooth talker. I'd need a lot of practice to be as suave as him.

While in college, I got a job working concert security. I was good at what I did and saw in others a lot of my father. There were those who would try to get backstage with stories of how they were related to the producer, or friends of some big so and so. It didn't work, but I was greatly entertained. I knew their game because I'd learned from a pro.

I have used what he taught me from time to time. I went back stage at concerts more than once without proper credentials. I've eaten at places reserved for those I was not a part of. I even learned how to access my favorite theme park without paying. No one ever said a thing. I looked the part, just as I learned in Nassau. The odd thing about having been successful in these adventures is that I'm a horrible liar.

These days, I don’t find myself in such situations like I used to. And I suppose that I've gotten most of that kind of thing out of my system. As much as my father has disappointed me in my life, I am thankful for some of the more profound experiences in using that power, and rarely with negative ramifications. Only twice was I discovered backstage, and each time I was simply escorted out. Now if only I could figure out a way to fly on Air Force One!

Airforce one at SFO