I’ve been wearing sunglasses for most of my aviation career. I use them in pretty much the same way as a doctor who wears a stethoscope around their neck all the time. I have them at the ready in case the sun blasts me in the eyes and I need to look good. What you would never see happen is a doctor wearing their stethoscope in their ears while they’re doing a prostate examination, I think. Equally, you should never see a pilot wearing their sunglasses indoors or at night on the flight deck.

“Hi Logan, what’s happening mate?” is the warm greeting I hear from behind me. I turn to see James, a very nice Aussie that I enjoy flying with, who appears to be wearing a pair of Oakley polaroid-lensed sunglasses. We are in the crew room for our pre-flight briefing! Who does he think he is, Kanye West? I don’t want to damage the CRM before our trip even begins so I just return his warm greeting and admire the Oakley Holbrook’s that he’s rocking. I myself wear Randolph Engineering Aviators, for me they’re a classic look with great functionality.

As we make our way over meet the crew to brief them for the trip to Dublin I want to tell him that he is still wearing them and then he takes them off. To polish them! And, he puts them back on. I try not to sigh out loud but I’m not sure I’m successful.

At least we are heading to Dublin; it’s always good to head home for a few days even while working, but I’m going to have to break it James sooner rather than later that he is definitely not going to need the shades in Dublin in February.

By the time we get to the flight deck he has been wearing them in my presence for around an hour. The entire time has been spent indoors and he has cleaned them probably once every five minutes. I wonder for a moment if he sleeps in them as well. With work to do the whole thing fades into the background and I focus on my job. In the cruise we discuss the NOTAMs that may affect us in Dublin. I refer to the fact that there is a large crane over by the control tower and he mentions the increased bird activity. When he mentions the bird activity I laugh and tell him it’ll be grand, “sure that’s been on the NOTAMs forever and I’ve yet to have a bird strike, in the airplane at least”.

As we start our descent into Dublin I’m shocked at how beautiful and bright it is, especially for this time of the year. He’s polishing his sunglasses again and although he has every right to wear them in this weather I’m surprised the lenses are still intact from all the scrubbing they’re getting.

I’m the pilot flying and as usual it is going very smoothly with me at the controls. As we descend through 1000 feet he blurts “Ah shit,” which is followed by the sound of a thousand bones breaking and the windscreen disintegrating. There is blood, and feathers, everywhere but my side of the flight deck hasn’t been affected. “Continue,” he shouts over the sound of the rushing wind filtering through the remains of a bloody mess jammed into the windscreen.

I land the airplane without further incident and it is only then that I get the opportunity to look at him. Thankfully he has removed his sunglasses, but his face, bar the area they had been protecting, is covered in blood, feathers, glass and what appear to be pieces of bone. We elect to stop the aircraft on the taxiway and the Bird Control Unit (I had no idea such a thing existed) board the aircraft once the engines have been shutdown. They inform us that we have in fact hit what appear to be two large adult swans and that the only thing that stopped James’s vision being severely damaged was the sunglasses.

He looks like a Panda, but you can’t doubt the power of those Oakley lenses. They were polished within an inch of their lives, yet they still managed to defend against the tornado of shit that blew through the cockpit. Who would have thought that sunglasses were more than just a fashion accessory!