After several attempts, I've managed to retrieve the original entry for Saturday the fifth. So here it is, several days late and several dollars short. Okay, not dollars, but perhaps paragraphs. I'm pretty sure that there was originally more to this, but here's what I salvaged for you:
It's the day after . . . the Fourth of July. Through the vagaries of our scheduling at work, I had a late shift last night - after having an early early shift the day before. But never mind about that - the show from the tower was incredible. From sundown until I left at midnight, there was a steady barrage of fireworks of all sorts all across the city. A number of inbound pilots said that it was unbelievable: apparently the entire LA basin was a carpet of fireworks. Several pilots likened it to flying into Baghdad, and there were several close calls on short final. We were giving cautionary advisories to the pilots for most of the evening. Naturally, after being dead all afternoon, the busiest traffic of the whole day was right around the nine o'clock hour, when all the official displays started. There was no indication whatever that fireworks are illegal in most of the basin cities. As is often the case, there are a few exceptions: Compton and Lakewood are two I know of, and I suspect that there are probably a handful of others. What with California's several-year drought and the hundreds of fires already raging, why they're legal anywhere in the state at all is a mystery to me. In light of the supreme court's recent decision on handguns, though, I don't see any imminent change. Okay, I suppose that somewhere out in the desert, say Mojave or Needles, there are areas that would be safe for civilians to play with fireworks (and yes, I'll concede that fireworks most likely are not covered by the Second Amendment). Folks may not be able to afford to keep their houses or fill their SUV gas tanks, but they gotta have their fireworks. An interesting observation made by a number of us in the tower was that the majority of the unofficial fireworks being shot off were in the inner city areas, i.e. South Central and Watts. Whereas just about the only fireworks in the beach cities seemed to be the public displays, which were definitely impressive. We had front row seats for the shows at El Segundo and Playa del Rey. My favorites are the ones that make rings around a central core; they look like the planet Saturn.
Things at work are relatively calm at the moment. After the intense training activity over the last year and a half, we're down to two trainees. Well three, counting the newest supervisor. I think we're expecting one more later this summer, and then that's it for the year. My gut approximation is that about half of our trainees make it, maybe a little less - I'm sorry to say it, but I don't remember all of them: some were upstairs (in the cab) for no more than a month. But the half-dozen that have made it have eased the scheduling a little: I'm now getting a real weekend every other week, after over a year of straight six-day weeks. I don't know how long it'll last though, as we've got a couple of people who are already eligible for retirement, and a couple more coming up within the next year. In addition, we've got four people selected out with release dates which start coming up next year. A couple of these have previously been delayed, and all of them have been waiting for years.
We're also preparing for a remodeling of the tower cab. Ever since the new tower went into operation a dozen years ago, the vertically-challenged among the controllers at LAX have been stretching on their tippy-toes to see over the counters. Some have even resorted to using step stools to improve their view. The plan is for the entire tower cab to get a makeover: the stairs will be moved, all the counters will be replaced with lower and shorter units, several positions will be relocated, and a lot of equipment will be updated or replaced. I'm not clear on the timetable, but it sure sounds like it's going to be a big project. I've heard that we may actually have to work from the old tower at some point while the heaviest work happens. I've been up in the old tower, but I've never worked traffic from there. It definitely has a different view of the airport, and there are more areas that controllers can't see. If we wait until the end of the summer, when traffic traditionally plummets, things oughta be easier. With the cost of fuel putting a lot of pressure on the airlines (along with the rest of us), the post-Labor Day fall-off in traffic may be much more than we're accustomed to.
Meanwhile, I'm still trying to find a viable exit strategy. My spring bids to Dallas Love and DFW towers have both been unsuccessful, along with the supervisor bid and cancelled TM (traffic management, or flow control) job here. My current efforts are focused on a supervisor job at New Orleans (MSY), and a new bid for DFW tower. I've also bid on the re-issued TM job here, but I'm not holding my breath: they've cancelled it twice already. I know that they say the third time's the charm, but that's not FAA policy. I'm a little more hopeful about the DFW tower job this time around, as this bid doesn't have any move money attached to it. That right there will discourage a lot of prospective bidders. The story I heard from a friend in Dallas is that the previous bid, which did have move money, was filled with selections from the Metroplex area, which wouldn't have even qualified for move money. Ironically, LAX has its own bid out right now, offering terms that are pretty lucrative by current FAA standards. By the terms of the bid, bidders from outside will be getting move money, raises, and bonuses that total more than what those of us who are already here are getting. There was some discussion that we maybe ought to all apply for our own jobs - I wouldn't mind a $25K bonus, and think how quick the certification process would be.
I'm also looking at ways that I can improve my chances of being selected. I'm already certified as a CIC (controller-in-charge) and OJTI (instructor). A year of staff time would be nice, but I haven't managed to snag a temporary staff position, though not for lack of trying. There doesn't seem any chance of that changing soon, as here at LAX we've got three guys who are medically disqualified working downstairs right now, two of them long term. Other options would be for me to finish a four-year college degree (or higher), get a CFI (flight instructor rating), and/or earn an airline dispatcher's certificate. None of these would help me on any of the jobs I've already bid, nor do I expect that any of them would actually come in useful on the job.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Replacement missive
Yesterday's missive was supposed to be about the Fourth of July fireworks, which I enjoyed from the vantage point of the tower cab. However, for reasons as yet unknown to me, the essay I composed on the Mac at home can not be opened by either of the iBooks that I currently have operating. Curious, since all are running the same versions of all the relevant programs. Oh well.
Lacking my pre-prepared remarks, I'll have to come up with some extemporaneous ones. As I mentioned last week, I managed to lose my phone while out on my lunch-time walk around the airport. The following shift, I tried calling it while I was in the union office, which was the one place I thought that I might have left it. No such luck. As it was about three in the morning, I imagine somebody got a surprise wake-up call! In the morning, I called the LAX airport police, as they're in charge of the airport lost-and-found. They'd had two phones turned in the previous day, but neither of them met my description or had gone off at three in the morning. The next afternoon, on the long chance that I had actually dropped it in the car, I got a friend to call me while I stood next to the car with the doors and truck open. Again, no luck . . . except that somebody answered! He gave the phone to me, and I found myself talking with a child who said that he (or she, I couldn't tell which) had picked it up yesterday and had been told by somebody or other that they could have it. When I attempted to explain that it had been my phone and that I'd like to get it back, they hung up on me and wouldn't answer it again. So, off to the phone store to see about getting another.
Seven o-clock in the evening is not the best time to go to the cell phone store if you're expecting any sort of expeditious service. About an hour later, I managed to walk out with my new phone. When it finally got to be my turn, I explained to the girl what had happened and said that I needed a replacement phone. Naturally the one I'd had was no longer available. My hope to find a replacement that could utilize the chargers that I already own was soon dashed as well - so I'm now the proud owner of three or four chargers with nothing to charge. After navigating the myriad choices of text messages, mp3 players, cameras and video, full keyboards and the lot, not to mention the various iPhones, Palms, and Blackberries, I was eventually able to walk out with what is essentially a newer version of what I had previously. My general impression is that I could get a phone that has more ability than the Space Shuttle - minus that rocketing into space bit.
The final (I hope) segment of this saga has been the reconstruction of my phone book. A few I remembered (9-1-1), but the whole idea of saving them in the phone is that then you don't have to remember them - as long as you've still got access to the phone. I used to think that my memory was the second-shortest thing I had, but nowadays I'm not so sure. So, I pulled up a previous month's phone bill and started looking at the numbers listed. Any that looked familiar I called, to verify that they were who or what I thought they were. Some of you have no doubt been blessed with calls or messages from me for that purpose. If you think you should have gotten a call and didn't, then give me a call - I know there are a bunch that I've lost. On the other hand, this could be your chance to steal away into phone never never land, so consider carefully!
Other than feeding cats, cleaning cat boxes, and talking to airplanes, I'm starting to feel like I don't have any particular purpose in life. According to the averages, I'm half-way through my expected lifespan, and I don't feel as if I've really got a lot to show for it. I seem to have spent most of the last several years (and am still, for that matter) trying to be somewhere else. The problem with that, as someone (although I forget who just now) once said, is that where ever you go, there you are. As a result, I've put lots of things on indefinite hold for when I'm settled somewhere. I suppose this malaise could be the beginning of a mid-life crisis, although I thought that was supposed to happen a little later - say my next decade, assuming I make it that far. Along with this, maybe I should be shopping for a Corvette, Porsche, or Ferrari, but I haven't progressed that far yet. A Jeep, perhaps, but no sports cars. I feel like I ought to be achieving or doing something, although I've no idea what. Getting out of debt would be worthwhile, but that A: Seems hopeless; and B: Doesn't sound appropriate for a mid-life crisis anyway. Besides, it's not the American way.
Oops, break time's over - Gotta go entertain the pilots some more.
CV
Lacking my pre-prepared remarks, I'll have to come up with some extemporaneous ones. As I mentioned last week, I managed to lose my phone while out on my lunch-time walk around the airport. The following shift, I tried calling it while I was in the union office, which was the one place I thought that I might have left it. No such luck. As it was about three in the morning, I imagine somebody got a surprise wake-up call! In the morning, I called the LAX airport police, as they're in charge of the airport lost-and-found. They'd had two phones turned in the previous day, but neither of them met my description or had gone off at three in the morning. The next afternoon, on the long chance that I had actually dropped it in the car, I got a friend to call me while I stood next to the car with the doors and truck open. Again, no luck . . . except that somebody answered! He gave the phone to me, and I found myself talking with a child who said that he (or she, I couldn't tell which) had picked it up yesterday and had been told by somebody or other that they could have it. When I attempted to explain that it had been my phone and that I'd like to get it back, they hung up on me and wouldn't answer it again. So, off to the phone store to see about getting another.
Seven o-clock in the evening is not the best time to go to the cell phone store if you're expecting any sort of expeditious service. About an hour later, I managed to walk out with my new phone. When it finally got to be my turn, I explained to the girl what had happened and said that I needed a replacement phone. Naturally the one I'd had was no longer available. My hope to find a replacement that could utilize the chargers that I already own was soon dashed as well - so I'm now the proud owner of three or four chargers with nothing to charge. After navigating the myriad choices of text messages, mp3 players, cameras and video, full keyboards and the lot, not to mention the various iPhones, Palms, and Blackberries, I was eventually able to walk out with what is essentially a newer version of what I had previously. My general impression is that I could get a phone that has more ability than the Space Shuttle - minus that rocketing into space bit.
The final (I hope) segment of this saga has been the reconstruction of my phone book. A few I remembered (9-1-1), but the whole idea of saving them in the phone is that then you don't have to remember them - as long as you've still got access to the phone. I used to think that my memory was the second-shortest thing I had, but nowadays I'm not so sure. So, I pulled up a previous month's phone bill and started looking at the numbers listed. Any that looked familiar I called, to verify that they were who or what I thought they were. Some of you have no doubt been blessed with calls or messages from me for that purpose. If you think you should have gotten a call and didn't, then give me a call - I know there are a bunch that I've lost. On the other hand, this could be your chance to steal away into phone never never land, so consider carefully!
Other than feeding cats, cleaning cat boxes, and talking to airplanes, I'm starting to feel like I don't have any particular purpose in life. According to the averages, I'm half-way through my expected lifespan, and I don't feel as if I've really got a lot to show for it. I seem to have spent most of the last several years (and am still, for that matter) trying to be somewhere else. The problem with that, as someone (although I forget who just now) once said, is that where ever you go, there you are. As a result, I've put lots of things on indefinite hold for when I'm settled somewhere. I suppose this malaise could be the beginning of a mid-life crisis, although I thought that was supposed to happen a little later - say my next decade, assuming I make it that far. Along with this, maybe I should be shopping for a Corvette, Porsche, or Ferrari, but I haven't progressed that far yet. A Jeep, perhaps, but no sports cars. I feel like I ought to be achieving or doing something, although I've no idea what. Getting out of debt would be worthwhile, but that A: Seems hopeless; and B: Doesn't sound appropriate for a mid-life crisis anyway. Besides, it's not the American way.
Oops, break time's over - Gotta go entertain the pilots some more.
CV
Saturday, July 5, 2008
The day after
Sorry . . . Today's missive got detonated by last night's fireworks. More tomorrow (I hope).
CV
CV
Monday, June 30, 2008
Assorted Rants
After the week of full moon madness, summer solstice, and Friday the 13th, I had been hoping for something better. Nothing specific, mind you, just better in some indeterminate sort of way. While nothing dramatic occurred, I'm wrapping up the week feeling disappointed.
After a one-week reprieve, the Four Olives cafe is now closed. I had supper there last Sunday, so I was one of their last customers (again). Too bad, although I'll probably save money.
My trainee is officially being reassigned to another tower where he can hopefully be successful. Meanwhile, we've had one more check out in the tower. There are a couple more who look promising, but no more in the pipeline. The experiment with Air Traffic Assistants (ATA's) has been a complete failure so far - we're 0 for 3 - the last one had his training terminated on Friday.
The flow control job that I put in for here in LA is apparently going to get canceled (again). They've bid and then canceled the bid for this job three times now; it's been vacant for a year. Meanwhile I've heard nothing more about the DFW tower job I bid on, and they just came out with another bid. So far no news either on the New Orleans supervisor job that I bid on last month, but it's still early days for that one.
After calling my sister Sunday afternoon, I managed to drop/lose/misplace my phone. The loss of the phone doesn't bother me so much as the loss of the names and phone numbers stored within. As I was on my lunchtime walkabout when I called her, there's only a square mile or two of one of the world's busiest airports in which to look for it. I retraced my route on the midshift, but as that was some twelve hours later I didn't really expect to find anything. I've no doubt that if I indeed dropped it somewhere along my walk it was picked up by someone within minutes. The airport is bound to have at least one lost and found, and probably several, but I'm not optimistic that a phone would make it to one of them. Ironically, just a few days ago I got a call from my phone service provider trying to sell me a new phone; maybe I shouldn't have deleted that message . . .
I've been watching a show where the guy is working in his shop with tools and lathes and such, all the while wearing a spotless white shirt. I realize that it's television and so there's editing involved, but even so. I've never seen him get his shirt even slightly dirty. I am genetically incapable of even putting on a white shirt without something happening to it. In fact, the harder I try not to make a mess, the more certain it is that I will. I don't think I've ever done an oil change on anything that didn't result in oil on me and the ground somewhere. I can't even put air in the tires without looking like I just changed at least one of them. The only way I manage to appear at work (or anywhere else) in a presentable manner is by not attempting anything before going. Since I sometimes don't go to work until three or four in the afternoon, you can understand why I never get anything done.
And while I'm at it: I can't have a nice watch, either. For my entire life, my father has owned and worn the same watch, given him by his mother before I was born, and it looks as good now as I can ever recall. I, on the other hand, am hell on wristwatches. I've had several decent watches, all of which have ended up with scars that give them the appearance of having survived (if just barely) armageddon. I try to have one that's still presentable for appearing in public, and I try to remember to take it off before I get involved in something likely to do it harm. The one I'm wearing right now has made it about three months so far. I don't wear it at all on the weekends - I've got several Wallyworld cheapies that I wear for when I know I'll be doing pretty much anything more than reading a book. And they look it.
There's probably more, but that's enough for now. Have a good week -
CV
After a one-week reprieve, the Four Olives cafe is now closed. I had supper there last Sunday, so I was one of their last customers (again). Too bad, although I'll probably save money.
My trainee is officially being reassigned to another tower where he can hopefully be successful. Meanwhile, we've had one more check out in the tower. There are a couple more who look promising, but no more in the pipeline. The experiment with Air Traffic Assistants (ATA's) has been a complete failure so far - we're 0 for 3 - the last one had his training terminated on Friday.
The flow control job that I put in for here in LA is apparently going to get canceled (again). They've bid and then canceled the bid for this job three times now; it's been vacant for a year. Meanwhile I've heard nothing more about the DFW tower job I bid on, and they just came out with another bid. So far no news either on the New Orleans supervisor job that I bid on last month, but it's still early days for that one.
After calling my sister Sunday afternoon, I managed to drop/lose/misplace my phone. The loss of the phone doesn't bother me so much as the loss of the names and phone numbers stored within. As I was on my lunchtime walkabout when I called her, there's only a square mile or two of one of the world's busiest airports in which to look for it. I retraced my route on the midshift, but as that was some twelve hours later I didn't really expect to find anything. I've no doubt that if I indeed dropped it somewhere along my walk it was picked up by someone within minutes. The airport is bound to have at least one lost and found, and probably several, but I'm not optimistic that a phone would make it to one of them. Ironically, just a few days ago I got a call from my phone service provider trying to sell me a new phone; maybe I shouldn't have deleted that message . . .
I've been watching a show where the guy is working in his shop with tools and lathes and such, all the while wearing a spotless white shirt. I realize that it's television and so there's editing involved, but even so. I've never seen him get his shirt even slightly dirty. I am genetically incapable of even putting on a white shirt without something happening to it. In fact, the harder I try not to make a mess, the more certain it is that I will. I don't think I've ever done an oil change on anything that didn't result in oil on me and the ground somewhere. I can't even put air in the tires without looking like I just changed at least one of them. The only way I manage to appear at work (or anywhere else) in a presentable manner is by not attempting anything before going. Since I sometimes don't go to work until three or four in the afternoon, you can understand why I never get anything done.
And while I'm at it: I can't have a nice watch, either. For my entire life, my father has owned and worn the same watch, given him by his mother before I was born, and it looks as good now as I can ever recall. I, on the other hand, am hell on wristwatches. I've had several decent watches, all of which have ended up with scars that give them the appearance of having survived (if just barely) armageddon. I try to have one that's still presentable for appearing in public, and I try to remember to take it off before I get involved in something likely to do it harm. The one I'm wearing right now has made it about three months so far. I don't wear it at all on the weekends - I've got several Wallyworld cheapies that I wear for when I know I'll be doing pretty much anything more than reading a book. And they look it.
There's probably more, but that's enough for now. Have a good week -
CV
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
