Leg 05 Salt Lake City to Boise (KSLC - KBOI) deadhead
With my time in the awesome little Embraer Phenom 100 coming to an end, I needed to get to Boise to pick up an Aztec that would haul me up to the Pacific Northwest. I dropped a bag at the Southwest counter and headed out to bravo concourse. After grabbing the obligatory Starbucks, my arrival at gate B22 coincided with that of our flight’s B738.
As is my habit while flying commercially, I waited standing at a window, much entertained by the ramp activity. A fruitless game of trying to pick out my bag being tossed on the belt ensues.
Then a tap on the shoulder. Spinning, I see a familiar set of Oakleys partially concealing a huge grin. She is happy to see me and more happy that I am catch her in uniform at her new gig.
Flashing back to Lemoore I shout, “Snuggles!”
“Chipwich! WTF are you doing in Salt Lake?”
Me checking out her 3 stripes, "Dropping one and deadheading to Boise to pick up another. You a Southwest FO now? "
Snuggles’ eyes roll back while she smirks, “Maybe.”
“I’m jealous for sure, but very well done. Would I be a male chauvinist pig if I told you how hot you look in uniform?”
“I need to do a walk-around.” she says over her shoulder heading for the the jetway door pulling a suitcase with a flight bag strapped to the top.
The flight is extremely light and without any obvious pre-boards, the gate agent soon calls first class. Boarding, it looks like I’m the only passenger up front.
These days there are usually plenty of frequent flyer upgrades and non revs filling up first class. But Boise, being the destination of rock stars, apparently I am their sole customer.
As I settle in at 4A, a flight attendant takes my drink order. Although I’m dying for a Woodford on the rocks, a little voice inside says Diet Coke. The inflight entertainment could be better. A man evangelizes against patent attorneys. While I empathize with him, I was hoping to catch up on ESPN before the safety briefing and marketing pitches begin.
Our host returns a short while later sans drink, “Your decision completely, but Mr Blake the captain has invited you to the flight deck. Or should I call you Chipwich?” Smiling, I gather up my Bose headset and iPad and head toward the cockpit.
While Snuggles is busy doing her FO thing, the captain turns in his chair and with a conspiratorial smile extending a hand, “Eliza says that know your way around a Hornet.” After thanking me for my service, he offers up the jump seat. He points out the headset hanging over my left shoulder and invites me to make myself comfortable. The gate agent sticks his head in the door momentarily wishing us a good flight and then I hear the L1 door being pulled shut and latched. A ring signals that the jetway is retracting.
I know not to ask questions while they get a pushback. start engines, and chat with ground.
We taxi to the line.
Cleared for takeoff, the Boeing’s acceleration surprises me and we break ground sooner than expected.
With the forecast calling for severe clear, I’m expecting a great view of Utah and Idaho today. Our departure dictates a turn to the west and soon we pass over the Great Salt Lake.
Eventually we turn northwest and over some spectacular scenery.
I wasn’t sure exactly when we passed into Idaho, but by then the captain and Snuggles are into a discussion about how many more legs they have today and if they will have time to get a run in at the hotel in Vegas. Then the chat turned to flying the Hornet. The capt caught me off guard when he asked Snuggles if the rumors were true how she got the callsign Feisty.
“Feisty?”, I asked with a frown.
“Yeah Chip, I have a new callsign.”, she says as she turns slightly away to take a flight level change.
The captain then offered more info, “The rumor I heard is that you gunned the Indian wing commander’s Flanker during an exercise at the NTTR.”
“I can’t talk about that.” Snuggles, now Feisty, looks uncomfortable, then shrugged, “Still in the reserve.”
“When I knew her she was Snuggles.”, I admitted from the jumpseat.
“Snuggles?”, asks the captain, apparently delighted at this revelation.
“Yeah she was so defensive and short tempered when she first arrived at the squadron, no one could imagine she would be much of a snuggler.” I explained with a grin. “In fact she had quite a bite.”
The captain chuckled and then said to his reddening FO, “Want this one?”
“Sure boss.”
Of course Feisty came in high and hot, but managed to catch a 4 wire.
Looking at the south ramp I was startled by a row of Phantoms, “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.”
Must be the new craze in Europe, “Let’s to take a junket to Boise!”
Feisty had enough turn time to join me for a cheeseburger. We catch up, exchange email addresses, and vow never to lose touch. Later, as I watch her head down the concourse back to her gate, I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. What a great catch for some lucky guy Feisty is. He would need to be a pilot though. An he would need to like red Ducati sport bikes and know how to shoot a GLOCK. He would need to know a few blues licks, and definitely not be afraid of black diamond runs. He would need to be…well, interesting.