The Life Of An Air Show Pilot
When you love what you do, is it work?
Patty
Wagstaff
|
The worst day of flying still beats the best day of real
work," is the perfect saying for the air show pilot. If you love what you
do, you're not really working, but being an air show pilot is a mixture of hard
work and hardly working.
The performer's goal is to entertain, often using illusion to
create the spectacle. As a kid, I was enchanted by the circus---the color,
stunts, beauty, the family of gypsies---and I longed to be a part of it. After
gaining some life experience, I found my way into the flying circus instead,
among pilots who entertain by flying their airplanes on the high wire of aerial
precision.
Flying exotic machines, we dance across the sky in front of
thousands, hoping the spectators are dazzled, awed and wanting to come back for
more. But, behind every big top is a parallel universe where a million mundane
things happen. Air show pilots appear to lead exciting and possibly desirable
lives, but is it really so glamorous? What goes on behind the scenes and what's
the day-in-the-life really like?
First, we have to book the show, and that involves paperwork and
advertising, phone calls and emails. Before we're even ready to take off for an
air show, you can you can safely assume that we had started six months to a
year prior, working on contracts, insurance certificates and military base
facilities permits. If the show is overseas, then triple the paperwork fun.
After the show is booked, we then have to find it. As most of
our airplanes are VFR only, flying cross-country gives meaning to the other
famous aviation saying, "Flying is hours of boredom filled with moments of
terror." Ask any show pilot what the scariest part of their job is, and
they'll tell you it's getting there. No matter how careful the pilot is, there
will be a time when the weather poses a challenge.
Some shows are close to home while others are 2,000 miles away,
crossing multiple time zones. However far, from the time we arrive we're in for
an adventure because every show site is different. We have to find the hangar,
the air show office, the rental car and maps to the hotel and social events.
The small airports are easy, but it's not difficult to get lost
at the big ones. Have you ever been lost on a large military installation late
at night, in danger of being arrested for entering a secure area? Or tried to
explain to a wary armed guard why you need to get on to his base at 1 a.m.,
even though you have all the required documentation? Didn't they get the memo?
I was at one air show where my rental car had a sun roof. I went inside to a
function in sunny weather, but came out two hours later to pouring rain and a
car with two feet of water in it.
Things just happen when you're in new territory. Have you woken
up in a hotel room and not remembered where you were? Drudgery may be too
strong a term, but life on the road can be taxing. As any rock star will tell
you, there's boredom in repetition, unpacking bags and figuring out what room
number matches the key in your hand after a long day.
Morning starts with a too-early, but mandatory, briefing
conducted by our ringmaster, the Air Boss. In attendance are stunt flyers, sky
talkers, sky jumpers, wing walkers and other assorted gypsies. There are also
pyro specialists, warbird types, crew, ferry pilots, military pilots and jet
jocks. They all meet with the jet team reps, the organizers, the brass, in
varying uniforms, cargo shorts, flight suits and FAA badges, to talk about wind
patterns and weather, clouds and towers, runways, arresting cables, where to
eject, emergency procedures, radio frequencies and the air show schedule.
Briefings can be fun, informative or frustratingly long. One
well-known Air Boss doesn't put up with any shenanigans. If you cross the line,
e.g., if your cell phone rings, you have to sit in the "dunce chair"
at the front of the room for the rest of the briefing!
After the briefing, we're immediately greeted by
"we're-here-to-help" FAA monitors eager to check every piece of our
required paperwork and inspect our airplanes. People are always surprised when
I tell them I get ramp checked every weekend.
If we pass and are given a gold star, we take our airplanes out
to the staging area where the crowd can see them, while we take care of all the
important details like the preflight: fueling and putting smoke oil in them.
That's when my crew and I usually drive out to the runway to
find a safe place, with no obstructions, to do the ribbon cut on or off to the
side of the runway, and we set out the poles and ribbons. I like this part of
the day. It's good to get things done early so we can chill before it's our
turn in the box.
I'm always watching my airplane. I just like to be close to it.
For me, it's a way to bond with it before I fly and it's also a way to
preflight because I would notice if anything was wrong or different.
I park my car near my airplane, too. Our cars are sacred
territory. They're our church, our temple, our haven and harbor. They're our
home, dressing room, kitchen, office and flight-planning room, and the only
place we can think, read, eat, watch and just be. And speaking of eating, the
smart performer brings water and snacks with them because show food can range
from the sublime to the invisible.
Wind patterns, ceilings and density altitude are different every
day, so flying conditions can change dramatically from one day to the next.
It's generally respected that performers need quiet time to rehearse and
visualize their routines before they fly.
I tell people that I start to get "nervous" an hour
before show time. I have never actually gotten nervous flying a show, but they
get the point. The FAA usually prohibits unnecessary crew from being in the
staging area, and I'm all for that.
A few years ago, just as I was getting into my airplane, a
random person stopped by to chat and asked what I thought about a horrible
accident that had recently taken place. I happened to know the pilot involved,
and I had a hard time focusing on my flight that day. This is a scenario we try
to avoid.
As it gets closer to show time, my energy comes into focus, and
by the time I taxi out, nothing comes between me and my cockpit, except for my
flight suit. My hyper focus blocks out unnecessary distractions while I keep
both a million details and the big picture in sight. The situational awareness
an air show pilot develops is where years of training pay off.
You aren't thinking, rather, it's that the airplane becomes a
part of you and you're in a state of "flow"---that wonderful
transcendent state of mind where a person is fully immersed in the activity at
hand. On the radio, the Air Boss clears us into the box, but I know that once I
peg the throttle for a snap roll on takeoff, I'm ultimately my own boss.
After I land and clear the runway, I quickly undo my seat belts
and take off my gloves so I can wave to the crowd while taxiing in. A car will
meet me to take a ride up and down the flightline, so I can be the performer
and wave some more.
really like?
Next, it's autograph time. Personally, I love signing autographs
and talking to people. I like to walk the flightline, sometimes a mile long,
signing pictures and talking to fans. I always think how much better it is to
be an air show pilot than to be a dentist, for example, because everyone I meet
is happy and giving their best. This is what the spectator gives back to the
performer, and it's energizing.
After putting our airplanes away, we know the day is only half
over. There's almost always an evening function where we're to meet the
sponsors and organizers, so it's a must-attend. We also realize that while we
may do this every weekend, for the air show, it's a once-a-year event, and the
social functions are very important.
I once saw a stage show involving tigers. The stage was lit so
the magnificence of the animals was highlighted, but there was an entire crew
of trainers dressed in black in the background. That's the illusion of
showmanship.
We want you to attend these air shows and keep coming back for
more, enjoying our aerial showmanship. And behind the scenes, it's not just the
organizers' attention to detail that makes the air show, it's the legions of
volunteers that every air show relies on and without who would never happen.
For me, being an air show pilot is the perfect fusion of my love
of flying with bringing awareness of aviation to the public. After all, air
shows are the only place someone can see airplanes up close, touch them, and
feel their power and beauty.
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