I’ve been flying for quite a while now, like 5 years or something, and in that time I feel I’ve amassed my fair share of flying experience. It sucks that every so often I end up with some old, overly careful, person who really should be using their bus-pass to visit a museum rather than being at the controls of a 150 tonne airplane.

 

Given my experience levels and my undoubted ability I was pretty upset that the dotard (yeah I’m using it) I was flying with this week managed to ruin the only landing I got to do this month. I get to manually land the aircraft every 45 days, to keep me current, and as I smoothly applied the correct landing technique (as per the manual) I was gutted to feel him yank at the controls and provide his own input.

 

Not alone is this rage inducing it begs the question, who is in control of the aircraft? I was flying but he moved the controls, so was he now flying? I knew he wasn’t in control, I know that he’s just a dickhead with no confidence in his own ability, but that doesn’t change the fact that he ruined my day.

 

For the next 24 hours I ducked and dived to avoid all the crew and I just drank nice coffee and read a book. I am loving the Twilight series right now!

 

Obviously because I flew the airplane out of the desert he was flying it back and I was cool with that, I quite literally had no interest in flying because of the previous day.

 

As we approached the top of climb he asked me to take control of the aircraft so that he could get some food and of course I obliged. As he completed his meal, which he ate so slowly I thought the expiry date would pass before he completed it, I started to relax. He would be in control again shortly.

 

“TRAFFIC, TRAFFIC”

 

Traffic Advisory! I reduce the range on my navigation-display (ND) and put my hands over the controls. Amber indication on the ND, the traffic collision avoidance system (TCAS) indicating that the intruder aircraft is just 45 seconds from the point of closest approach. Ready to take action.

 

“DESCEND, DESCEND NOW”

 

The Resolution Advisory comes much faster than I’ve expected; a red square on the ND, 25 seconds from the point of closest approach. As I prepare to disconnect the autopilot and auto throttles I hear the warning horn indicating that this has already occurred. WTF!

 

I don’t panic; I never panic. But, I do confirm I am the pilot flying, “My controls, TCAS RA” and I take action to follow the vertical guidance on the primary flight display. My control inputs are smoother than LeBron James dissing Donald Trump on twitter.

 

“CLEAR OF CONFLICT”

 

As the system confirms we are clear of conflict, having descended 1000ft below our previous level, I go through the correct sequence for reengaging the autopilot. “Good job!” I hear from my left side. ‘Good job, are you taking the piss? You disconnected the automatics without warning, I think I did better than good you fucking dinosaur!’ internal monologue – damnit. “Thanks man, why did you disconnect the automatics while I was in control of the aircraft?” No answer; the silence is deafening.

 

The lack of reply is unsurprising, as he probably doesn’t even know he did it. In all likelihood he has already forgotten and is trying to remember what he had for dinner. That’s not going to help him when he has to write his report and neither am I, because I’ve got better things to do than an internship in Alzheimer’s support.

 

I know I will be old one day, but I don’t give a shit. When it comes to flying age is just a number, he probably would have done the same when he was 35 years old; you can’t teach an old leopard new tricks.

 

Retirement beckons and so does my book. I wonder if Bella will chose Edward or Jacob?