Tags: article, aviation, groundschool, knowledge
Radio communication in aviation is an art form. In short, the goal is to be as descriptive as possible using the least amount of words. One must realize you’re no longer speaking proper English or formatting grammatically correct sentences. This is a NEW language.
Example, you want to say: Long Beach Tower, This is Cessna 12345. I am flying over the Queen Mary and would like to land on Runway two-five left. I have the weather information, “x-ray.”
How you phrase it: Long Beach Tower, Cessna 12345, Over Queen Mary, request two-five left with x-ray.
(Who you’re calling, Who you are, Where you are, What you want)
For non-pilot readers, the reason you want your message to be fast and clear is because only one person can speak on a frequency at a time! If there is a busy airport with planes flying all around in the airspace, everybody has to share and take turns on the radio. When two people transmit at the same time, this is called getting “stepped-on” and the transmission becomes garbled noise. This wastes more time since the radio call must be repeated again. Not only is wasted time frustrating to pilots/ATC, it can potentially be unsafe. One possible scenario (drastic, but gets the point across): What if a plane taxis onto an active runway while a plane is landing and ATC needs to alert the landing traffic to abort and go-around? Quick radio calls that provide all necessary information is just better all around, “plain” and simple (no pun intended).
I greatly admire and respect my instructor, Cody Pierce (Aces High Aviation). I am ecstatic with every piece of knowledge and habit he has taught me. He is an extreme advocate for proper radio usage and phraseology. He knows how to be precise, effective, and efficient; I’d like to think this was passed on to me, or at least programmed the correct mindset.
One thing he taught me was to avoid the use of the words “to” and “for”. Like I said, this is no longer English.
Example, what you want to say: This is Cessna 12345. We are currently at two-thousand feet, and we are climbing to four-thousand, five-hundred feet.
How you phrase it: Cessna 12345, at two-thousand, climbing four-thousand, five-hundred.
What I want to stress is, leave out the TO!
1.) to four-thousand = TWO-four, thousand? (24,000. Yes if you’re in a Cessna you can only reach half that altitude, but why unnecessarily dilute the clarity of the message)
2.) Once you’re over 9,000 feet you would pronounce a number like 10,500 as “one-zero thousand, five hundred)
3.) Key: If you leave out the word “to” does it drastically change the structure of your radio call to where the meaning is changed or won’t be understood?
The answer to #3 is NO. So why not cut as many words as possible for a more clean, efficient, and professional sounding transmission?
In closing, we get to talk about what I wanted to talk about most: FOR.
Flying with more and more other pilots (some IFR guys), many seem to use the phrasing, “Climbing [to] two-thousand, for Cessna 12345″
What if this isn’t the initial call, or doesn’t include the aircraft type? “Climbing [to] two-thousand, for 12345.” What was your call sign? 412345?
Why bother including “for”? Don’t:
1. For or FOUR?
2. When you include your call sign, they already know it’s for you!
3. It’s extra words. By including “for” you’re trying to create a grammatically correct sentence for the English language. To our ears and brain, this makes sense; however, we’re not writing a paper. We’re trying to efficiently communicate instructions.
Simply plug-in and provide your variables to ATC, they already know the equation and only require the missing pieces. As long as the information is correct and formatted properly, I don’t think they will mind if it’s not “aesthetically” pleasing/sounding to the ears, by English language standards.
Questions, corrections, or remarks? Leave a comment!
No you were supposed to be there
Where were you?
You said you’d die to save me
I called for you
You were my only savior
With my last breath I’ll scream
Where were you?
you know the feeling, when you’re at a show, and every hit from the bass drum rattles deep from within the inside of your rib cage, resonating through your body.. yeah, that’s the feeling of home.
standing faceless in a crowd, you’re part of something bigger. we could destroy the world. everyone under this roof, we share the same passion. room full of strangers, yet they are my best friends. in the humid, scorching, air we patiently stand and wait in the dim lighting. muffled music in the background. they’re setting up on stage, not much longer now. the energy of the crowd is surging through your veins. you can feel it. your finger tips are electric. clench your fist, they’ve never felt so powerful; invincible. eyes closed, inhale deeply. hold it, exhale. the quickly beating heart, pumping adrenaline like a toxic substance you crave. you can feel it, you can hear it. it spreads to every inch of your being. soundcheck. the bass from the instruments, so loud, so low: you can feel the sound. sound has become tangible. the noise expands in a gaseous state throughout the room and begins to fill it, you can touch it. it’s a tidal wave you see off in the distance, but you don’t run from it. you just stand and stare with your jaw on the floor. it towers over you like a skyscraper, blocking out the sun. in its shadow, you’re no bigger than any other grain of sand on the beach. except it crashes over you.. and soothes you from the inside out. everything and everyone melts.. as the tide washes it away. the stage is empty now, they took the light with them, eyes trying to adjust. the crowd pushes up, and seals all gaps. you never stand so close to strangers anywhere other than here, maybe they’re not strangers anymore. we’re all connected. brace yourself. hold your ground, the static in the air is transmitting the anticipation of a war. this is it. in an instant, it’s deafening. the roar of an entire room as figures emerge on stage. and then.. as quickly as the strike of a snake, the wave, crushes you without warning. don’t swim. stay submerged, and let the music engulf you. welcome home.
12/21/2012 — Doomsday.
We met at Angel City Flyers at Long Beach Airport (KLGB) around 9:00 a.m. which is the earliest I have been flying in quite some time. Ruben was the PIC (pilot in command) that day and did a wonderful job flying. Kyle is an awesome dude who flies out of El Monte (KEMT) and wanted to check out a G1000 equipped DA40.
There is no other way to visit as many cities as we did in such a short amount of time.
In 2.1 hours, I went from: Long Beach, to Victorville airport (KVCV) around the back side of the mountains and over Agua Dulce (L70), Van Nuys airport (KVNY), past the Hollywood sign, around Downtown Los Angeles, El Monte Airport (KEMT), and back to Long Beach for lunch at a nice Thai restaurant, La Lune Palace, on the third floor with an excellent view of the runway (25L). I’ve been going to the airport for almost two years and never knew this place existed! It was nice to be a passenger again, I love being able to relax and observe from a different perspective, and most importantly glue my face to the window to see such a rare view of our home.
Tuesday. November 20, 2012 — I left my job interview to head home and change from my suit before heading to the airport. Spontaneous, and uncertain if time would award its blessing, we made plans to go for a quick flight. It was around 2:30 P.M., and the sun was going to set at 4:45 P.M. With the drive costing one hour, and thirty to forty-five minutes for a preflight inspection and engine run-up, it was going to be close.
The four of us arrived at Long Beach, I grabbed the keys to the airplane, and got to work. There is helicopter parking directly across from where the plane is parked, and it was a good thing I left the plane tied down because during the preflight checks, two helicopters landed causing a miniature typhoon. As helicopters lower to the ground, huge gusts of wind crash into you like an invisible tidal wave.
Once we left the ground far below us, we were moments away from an indescribable, breathtaking view. We climbed and departed the airport towards the Pacific Ocean and headed towards Huntington Beach. The sun was now falling, and sinking into the ocean. It was being extinguished by the salt water. Ungracious in defeat, the sun set the sky ablaze burning vivid orange and pink hues into the blue canvas. Making its last move before its slumber, it made its presence known to us all, as if to make sure it was not forgotten. The sky and clouds were stained with warmth. The scene radiated all the way from the heavens straight to your pupils, and nothing but appreciation could be felt. Slowly, the city stars began to emerge preparing for the dark, and the sea of shining lights grew as we surfed above.
The only way to improve a sunset, is to join it in sky.
Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force. I do not know many people in the Military, besides lost-contact-friends from high school. They are friends I haven’t really spoken with or hung out since we graduated. I’ll often encounter other people who have served in the military at school now. Apparently, college requires one unit of physical education. Not interested in sports, I chose golf since I had a semi-interest (and don’t have to run).
It was a sunny day at Brea golf course, and were nearing the end of another game. It was the type of day where light drops of sweat emerge atop your forehead, until a beautiful breeze blows cooling the moisture. There was many interesting people in the class, but one guy in his late 20′s was an ex-marine (if I recall), with a story that no one could compete.
It was the last day of class, and we were standing on the green of the ninth hole with our putters in hand. John, I believe his name was, played golf causally but did pretty well, despite an injury in his hand he received while he was overseas. He wore a necklace, and attached at the bottom was a bullet. Earlier in the semester he told us about it, and I wish I could quote this surreal story exactly, but unfortunately I heard it roughly a year ago. He was out with his squad/team and they were crossing some type of water, it may have been a river or stream I think. They had to hop across some rocks, and he was shot. “There was a sniper. He shot me in my shoulder in midair, but he was probably aiming for my head.” I remember him describing to a small group of the class in awe. His life only inches from being ended sounds more of a tagline from a movie than a non-fictitious event. This piercing piece of metal on the string around his neck, was once embedded in his flesh.
Everyone was excited. We were a few putts away from being done with the semester. While waiting on the green for our turns, I walked over to John and figured I’d ask him a question while I had the opportunity. “This might be a stupid question, but do you think your experience would help you in paintball?” I felt it was valid considering he’s shot real guns, knows how to aim, and surely knows how to take cover and hide, among other things. I imagined him using his skill-set, dominating the field with the precision of an action star. He paused as his mind actually processed the question.
“Probably a little bit, but it’s completely different since it’s only a game. No one is afraid to die.“
Tags: bandoftheweek, botw, lyrics, music
Band Of The Week
I was buried in Mount Pleasant Cemetery, alone and unceremoniously
…Buried in Mount Pleasant Cemetery, when life was taken from me [full lyrics]
Disconnect and disassociate yourself from everything and everyone you know.
Just let go. Go. Don’t look back, and see where it takes you. After a year has passed, you might feel good enough to come home, or there’s the excitement that you may leave and just stay, and never come home again, either way, you’ll be glad you did it. Having left and gone and being able to decide for yourself after you’ve done your time.
They say that time heals all wounds, well this is a good way to spend that time, what better way to distract yourself from sadness than to further complicate your crisis to the point where it threatens your own survival? Combining it with a total mind-fuck of other factors, allowing you to erase your memory, deprogram yourself, and rebuild somewhere in the abyss.
Surrendering all control and familiarity, boldly going into the unknown, committing to this forced and involuntary deportation from your own home. You know you have to go, your life depends on it.
Answer the question, “Can you get here in 10 days?” “Yes I can!”
It’s time to cross the ocean… and dive, into exile! [full lyrics]
August 19 – 24, 2012
1. Yes, I made it back alive.
2. It wasn’t scary (besides the possible threat of stingrays and whatever that squishy thing I stepped on in the water was).
3. I did not get kidnapped by drug cartels and I was not held for millions of dollar/taco ransom.
4. I didn’t get pulled over or have to bribe any police/federales/chupacabras.
Those seem to be everyone’s concerns, including mine before we left. Not to say none of the scary stories are true, but thankfully we had no trouble at all. I’d image most problems arise in Tijuana anyways, where there is a much larger number people, not on a quiet beach. Technically it was my second time in Mexico, but the first one was for a wedding. This was a completely different experience. Not speaking a word of Spanish, other than the menu of Taco Bell, makes for a quite interesting trip.
Our first taste was going through the border. My uncle got pulled into the inspection area as predicted because of all the luggage on the roof rack and he told us to follow him. A lady came up to the car and started speaking Spanish. There’s always that awkward moment when both parties blankly go, “uhhh.. how do we communicate?” Communication is something that is expected and taken for granted. How often do you encounter someone you can’t talk to, at all? Finally I found a hand gesture she understood. I pointed at their car, back at me, back at their car, and at me which allowed her to blurt out, “..together!” It’s interesting how instantaneous the changes are once you pass the border. It is such a fine line dividing two separate worlds. We drove roughly 70-100 miles and went through 3 toll roads about $2.20 each.
no images were foundThe first real hit was when we stopped at Walmart. How nice, something familiar from Amerika! ..not really. You know the feeling when something is the same, but different? The first thing you notice is everything is incredibly expensive. My cousin, Tasha, bought a soccer ball for $94! …in pesos. That comes out to about eight bucks (one U.S. dollar is about 13 pesos, the rest of this will be in USD). It’s strange to see such high numbers on prices. Even though you know it’s a different currency it’s just visually different than what you’ve seen every single day of your life. You also see all the same brands you’re familiar with and use; however, the packaging isn’t in English! The reason we stopped was because my cousin needed a swimsuit, but we weren’t finding any. After awhile we realized the department signs had English on the bottom, which didn’t help much, but we came to the conclusion they didn’t have them since the Summer season is coming to a close. It felt odd we couldn’t just ask a store associate for assistance. Strange feeling not to be able to ask for help when you need it.
We eventually made it to the house which was less than 200 yards from the ocean. You could walk to the water in less than a minute. The beach made the sand at Huntington Beach feel like sandpaper. It was so fine you were walking in flour. The water, it wasn’t water from the ocean. Clearly someone’s warm bathwater must have overflowed into it. If it wasn’t for the salt you could comfortably bathe in it. I’m used to beaches having frigid water where I take my foot out of it as quickly as I put it in. It was very clear too! In the shallow you could see the ground and all the shells.
Later in the trip we went to La Bufadora. Here, everyone spoke English. It’s two attractions were shopping and The Blowhole. “The Blowhole is an amazing natural marine geyser that is capable of shooting water well over 60 feet in the air. La Bufadora is considered to be the second largest marine geyser in the world.” The shopping consisted of a very long row of little “stores” that most carried a lot of the same. They were fun to look at because it’s not a shopping experience you’re used to. There are no set prices. When you ask how much an item costs, you’ll received some absurd value, for example $30 for a shirt. You’re not going to spend that much so when you say no, show disinterest, or walk away, magically the item has become discounted 50% as they blurt out, “okay $15!” Even then you can most likely haggle and get the item down to $6-12. When we first arrived I felt a little awkward and intimated to do this. It also feels like you’re insulting them by offering less. After watching a few transactions occur you get a feel for this standard procedure, and realize they do this everyday. It wasn’t that difficult and they actually do most of the work for you. Once interest is shown, you’re bombarded with offers. After a few tries it becomes surprisingly fun. I bought a “$10″ hacky sack for $3. As you walk down they all try to get you to look at their store, and a common gimmick you’d hear was, “99% off,” or, “almost free!” Towards the end you could even take your picture with a baby tiger cub for a $20 donation to a wildlife foundation. Did I mention you get to hold it?
On the drive to Mexico Tasha told me about a guy who flies an ultralight and lands on the beach directly in front of the house. The first day we arrived I got to witness this. I have no idea what beaches in California that would allow this! I don’t fly them so I don’t know their rules but you definitely wouldn’t be able to with people on the beach, I’d assume. He flew by and we waved at each other. He landed and signaled for us to walk over. He spoke some English, I told him I was a pilot, and he turned out to be a nice guy. After days of thought, I knew I would regret not taking the opportunity to go for a ride. The weather turned cloudy and overcast so he wasn’t flying for a few days. I told myself if he was there on the last day I would go. Sure enough he flew overhead towards the beach while we were fishing on the pier. It’s different than what I’m used to that’s for sure. I like to describe it as a flying chair. You’re just sitting there with nothing around you. It was a great experience and wouldn’t be something I’d mind learning how to do.
Unfortunately I didn’t get to purchase as many fireworks as I wanted, but I did get a bag of m80s and roman candles we lit on the beach. We got to do some other cool things like have a bonfire right on the beach itself (no pit), surf fishing, flew my kite, observe sea creatures (hermit crabs, shells, sand dollars, and starfish), and many other things. At one point we visited a Costco which had the exact same layout as the one in La Habra!
Overall is was a great trip and would like to thank my uncle, aunt, and cousins for the invitation and allowing me to go! It was very kind and generous!
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Tags: bandoftheweek, botw, lyrics, music
Band Of The Week
You know that feeling of fear and desperation in the pit of your stomach making you nauseous.
Excitement, apprehension. You wish you could lose it all.
Hello my good old friend. Your hand pulls me back from that mire.
Will I look back and stare, and wonder if she is way back there?
And while we thought that we were learning how to live
We have been learning how to die
I should have known we will be legends