Hier seit: 13.08.2004
|Verfasst am: So, 24 Dez 2006, 9:45 Titel: Weihnachten 2006
|Frohe Weihnachten und ein erfolgreiches Neues Jahr 2007 allen Usern von eddh. Danke Sigi für Deine Mühen, die Gemeinde dankt es Dir.
`Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in thier spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 Knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
Id have sworn that the callsign he used was "St Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St Nicolas One, turnin left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all the fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin?
While controllers were sittin, and scratchin their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His brath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but didnt inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were at black as a cropdusters belly
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilots discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"your traffics a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Hier seit: 07.10.2002
|Verfasst am: So, 24 Dez 2006, 11:05 Titel:
|Frohes Fest und einen Guten Rutsch - und gleich noch einen weiteren St.Nick:
Santa Renews his Pilots License
Santa Claus, like all pilots, gets regular visits from the Federal Aviation Administration, and it was shortly before Christmas when the FAA examiner arrived. In preparation, Santa had the elves wash the sled and bathe all the reindeer. Santa got his logbook out and made sure his paperwork was in order.
The examiner walked slowly around the sled. He checked the reindeer harnesses, the landing gear, and Rudolph's nose. He painstakingly reviewed Santa's weight and balance calculations for the sled's enormous payload.
Finally, they were ready for the checkride. Santa got in and fastened his seatbelt and shoulder harness and checked the compass. Then the examiner hopped in carrying, to Santa's surprise, a shotgun.
"What's that for?" asked Santa incredulously.
The examiner winked and said: "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're gonna lose an engine on takeoff."
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