Last night was quite the experience. It was 9:30pm and I had just laid down for bed when my phone alerts me to a call. "Hey we got a charter to Washington DC, wanna go?" asks the on-call pilot. "Sure do!!" I respond. I jump out of bed, throw on some clean clothes, kiss my husband goodnight, grab my flight bag and race out of the house. I beat the pilot to the airport by about 15 minutes and do a preflight inspection on the plane; a Cessna 310.
By time we take off, it's after 11pm. We arrive at Lambert International (KSTL) to pick up the part that we are scheduled to fly to Washington DC. The maintenance building we parked in front of is filled with gorgeous jets that just gleam in the light. I daydream as we walk inside. We gather the part which is safely wrapped in bubble wrap, and hustle back to the plane. It's a cool, windless, clear evening. We're supposed to break a record low tonight. The pilot fires up the engines and we get on our way.
Now at 9,000 feet and on course, we activate the auto-pilot. It's bitterly cold, freezing actually... literately 32 degrees up here. We wait a while before turning on the heater, as it uses fuel to operate. I have goosebumps on my arms and my body is trembling, but I don't say anything. We have at least three hours ahead of us before reaching our destination when I suddenly feel the need for a potty break. Damnit, I think to myself. I had just used the restroom before leaving our home airport too. The urge goes away for a while once we turn the heater on, but I still know that it's going to be a long flight.
We're now somewhere over Ohio in the blackness of the night when we see a dull light radiate across the sky. Our on-board radar is nearly worthless and doesn't pick up any echos. The pilot questions ATC, in which they respond that they can't be of much help since the distant weather is out of their radar range. As we continue flying, we get passed from one approach center to another. With each change, the pilot questions the weather. Eventually he calls up Flight Watch and gets a complete weather report with recommendations included. We still see the lightning and my adrenaline is pumping. I've never dealt with a thunderstorm of this capacity before, much less at night! We're told that if we fly north of our flight path, we can avoid the worst of it. We accept the diversion. Shortly thereafter, we start picking up rain. It's still 32 degrees outside, so we prepare for the chance of icing by turning on the outside heating elements. The raindrops pelt us mercilessly as we pass through the nearly invisible, night hidden clouds. The occasional flash of lightning blinds our eyes as if we’ve walked in front of a strobe light. The turbulence is challenging my bladder holding abilities but I manage to contain myself. We make it through the storm and get back on course. An hour later we arrive at Dulles International (KIAD).
We park in front of an FBO and deliver the part. The staff tops off our fuel tanks while we relax inside. The building is luxurious and makes me feel a little out of my league. The leather chairs, live plants, thick solid cherry wood restroom stall doors, spacious interior and granite countertops reinforce that only prestigious flyers stop here. We snatch a fresh cookie, grab some water and check the weather while waiting. Within 45 minutes we are off again.
The flight home was much less eventful. The fact that I'm pulling an all-nighter is beginning to catch up to me. I have been awake since 5:30 in the morning, and worked a total of about 11 hours between both jobs. I was getting tired. This is where having two pilots on board is a good thing, we can take turns napping. About an hour and a half into our flight, the sun began to rise. We are over the Appalachian Mountains now and towering cumulus clouds were along our route. The beauty of the surrounding scenery was enough to keep me awake a little while longer. Once we were out of the clouds, I could see the hazy sunrise sky that looked like a Monet painting. Below, the fog that had set in the valleys of the mountains which made it appear like small smoke filled fingers of a lake. It was stunning.
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Now in contact with St. Louis approach, we start preparing for landing. The radio frequencies have become alive with pilots out flying. The sun is shining brightly, the winds are light, and the skies are clear. I'm getting excited now as we're almost home. We have the airport in sight and switch over to the local frequency to announce our position and intentions. The pilot teaches me the landing procedure as we make our way inbound. This plane is fast and heavy! "Hold it off, hold it off..." he says to me as my petite arms fight the yoke. The sight picture is much different than what I'm used to. He keeps his hands on the controls and helps me connect the wheels to the ground. Success!
It's now after 7:30 in the morning and the airport is beginning to come to life. I help the pilot unload the plane then head inside. The pilot is also a multi-engine instructor, therefore he could sign my logbook as dual instruction for the four hour flight home. I thank him for letting me come along, then make my way to the car and head home. My eyes feel bloodshot, I'm hungry and tired. I can't decide if I should eat breakfast before bed, or after. I decide to stop at McDonald's and pick up a small snack. After eating, I lie down and crash until 2:00 in the afternoon. I'm drained the rest of the day, but that’s a small price to pay for the opportunity such as last night’s. In addition, I earned my 250th flight hour, the minimum needed for my commercial pilot's certificate. YAY!
