|12-05-2007, 04:39 PM|
Night before Christmas, a pilots version
The Night Before Christmas, Pilot's Edition
'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tie downs with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their 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,
I'd have sworn that the call sign 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. Nicholas 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 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 at 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 breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's 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 the 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 pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's an RJ, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
|12-05-2007, 07:51 PM|
Re: Night before Christmas, a pilots version
Not mine, But I thought this was bad ass
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hangar
Not an engine was running, not even a four banger;
All the windsocks were hung by the workbench with care,
In the hopes that new model parts soon would be there;
The modellers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of aircraft did loops in their heads;
And my wife dreaming quietly of new gardening things;
I laid there hoping for gifts that had wings.
When out on the lawn there arose such a noise,
Louder than the engines in my RC toys;
Away to the window I flew like a jet,
I couldn't run faster, not on a bet.
The house lights shining on the new fallen snow,
Made it look like a flyby, o'er the objects below;
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a miniature aircraft. Had I drunk too much beer?
It dashed and it danced and it pranced like a star,
Better than my planes, yes better by far;
Over the porch. then over the wall;
The plane kept on climbing. It just wouldn't stall.
I was amazed how it swept and flew through the sky,
That was a plane that I wanted to fly;
Up to the rooftop the airplane it flew,
Someone is flying it, someone, but who?
And then with a buzzing I heard on the roof,
Who could it be? I need some proof.
As I turned away from the window ledge,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with an Edge.
My eyes. how they bugged out! The plane was so sporty,
I could hardly believe he brought an Edge 540.
On the tail of the plane there was tied a big bow,
With everything installed it was ready to go.
He spoke not a word and went straight to his work,
I stood there drooling, and felt like a jerk;
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his airplane, and to me gave a laugh,
"You can fly it tomorrow just don't crash the aircraft",
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND CHARGE IT BEFORE FLIGHT!"
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