Come Fly With Me Outtakes

There's Always That Guy

A general aviation satire channel posted a video entitled "Every Pilot Argument in Four Minutes" and I snickered at the references I got, googled many of the ones I didn't, and then ended up putting Pilot!Scott in a similar situation because you may have noticed I'm mean to him.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" asks a voice.

Scott looks up to find a middle-aged white guy standing next to the other chair at his table, looking at him expectantly. A glance around the lounge area shows that the other tables all have people at them, so Scott smiles politely and says, "Go ahead."

It's quiet for a few moments, the guy settling in, setting his coffee on the table and pulling an iPad, notebook, and pen from his bag. Pretty standard stuff at any general aviation airport. Whether it's home base or a stop on the way, there's always at least a few people having a rest or a chat or planning the next leg they're going to fly, often while refuelling themselves just like they refuel their planes.

Scott's here to pick up his new baby. He's been saving up for years to buy his own plane, and he's finally making it happen. It took him an extra year to find a plane he liked that was modern enough for Mitch to agree to get into it at a price point Scott could manage, but in the end, he found one. Granted, they had to fly halfway across the country to come get it, but now here he is, waiting the final fifteen minutes before the seller is due to arrive with the paperwork and the keys. Scott will check everything to make sure it's in order, do a full walk around, take a demo flight with the seller, have a mechanic take a final look, and then fly it back to LA this afternoon. And tomorrow, he and Mitch will start their cross country trip getting it back to Dallas.

He's still kind of amazed Mitch agreed to come with him, although it hadn't extended far enough to actually meet with the seller. "Hmm," Mitch had said. "I could take a series of buses and taxis out to Buttfuck Nowhere, California, and wait around a tiny airport with bad coffee and obnoxious lighting for some rando to bring me a plane. Or I could stay in LA, enjoy the hotel's amazing spa and room service, and wait around for my husband to bring me that very same plane a few hours later. Lemme think..."

Scott smiles fondly and returns his attention to his charts, pondering which of the routes to and through LA that he worked out yesterday he actually feels like flying today. He turns his iPad to better visualize how his route choices diverge. He could go east of the Class Bravos, squeezing between their lower limits and the surrounding city and terrain. It'd be more challenging and give him a better idea of his new baby's handling capabilities. But going around to the west would let him hug the coastline under the Bravos, which would be simpler and probably faster, even with the longer flight path. Better views, too. Scott's feeling lazy, and the weather is fantastic. Assuming ATC will let him, he might as well appreciate the ocean views he doesn't get to see all that often from such a low altitude. Besides, it'll likely get him back to the hotel and Mitch sooner, and if he's lucky--

"You're going to want to learn North Up at some point, son," the guy beside him says.

Is he kidding? "Excuse me?" Scott says, without looking up.

"Track Up is lazy flying. You'll want to build up the situational awareness skills to be able to orient in your head rather than turning the map. It's a crutch."

The fuck he didn't. Scott blinks and looks over at his self-proclaimed new mentor. "How about you visualize your routes the way that works for you, and I'll do the same."

"I'm just giving you some friendly advice so you can improve as a pilot." The guy leans his chair back, like he's dispensing sage wisdom to an eager young apprentice and not a fully grown adult who didn't ask. "You never know what'll help get your ass out of trouble."