First Night in My New Home

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Jumping the gun a bit, but I deserve it.

Last night, I slept in my new bedroom in my new home.

It was a non-event. My home isn’t done yet — although it’s almost ready for final inspection. Other than my desk, file cabinet, dining room tables and chairs, and an Ikea easy chair by a window that I nicknamed “the throne,” none of my furniture has been moved up from its corner of my shop yet. I was going to have the furniture moved up, but I still have the trim to do in every room and it would just be in the way. And I think it might get in the inspector’s way, too.

Living in Two Spaces

When the kitchen neared completion late last week and I moved my coffee maker upstairs, I began thinking about how odd it was to roll out of bed in my RV and go upstairs to start my day. Why not just sleep upstairs? I could easily move the RV’s queen sized air mattress, which normally hides inside the sofa, up to my bedroom and inflate it. I had a second set of sheets and another comforter. So I could keep my bed in the RV — which, in all honesty, is very comfortable with its memory foam topper — all made up so I wouldn’t be actually living in my new space yet. I’d be a sort of guest up there.

I thought about it for a few days but didn’t act. My bed in the RV is very comfortable and, for some reason, after two years of calling the RV my “home,” I felt odd about abandoning it.

But yesterday was a big day here. That’s when the plumbers showed up to hook up the kitchen sink, dishwasher, shower head, and front yard hose spigot. They were here for just two hours and when they left, I had a working sink and dishwasher. Other than the floor and trim, my kitchen was done. I celebrated by washing the frying pan I’d used to make my breakfast earlier in the day.

Later, my electrician friend Tom came by to help me with some electrical troubleshooting. I was having trouble with the GFCI-protected outlets in the bathroom and my entire bedroom circuit. And the three-way switches I’d wired exactly the way the electrical book showed me weren’t working exactly the way they should. The bathroom circuit problem was a loose wire, which Tom fixed. The bedroom circuit problem was a cross-wiring issue that I figured out on my own and we fixed together. The three-way switch problem — well, we’ll revisit that next week. Our afternoon beer break had turned into a Pendleton break and although we were enjoying ourselves, further cognitive efforts were unsuccessful. (Note to self: Buy more Pendleton.)

I saw Tom off, gathered together my electrical tools again, and worked on the blog post I’d been writing when he arrived. (It’ll appear tomorrow instead of today.) I had a bite to eat while I was working and found myself feeling sleepy — which is no surprise, given that Pendleton break a few hours before. I didn’t want to relax on the throne or in the RV. I wanted to stretch out upstairs somewhere, possibly with a book.

Sleeping On Air

I thought about that air mattress again and went down to fetch it. 30 minutes later, I was stretched out on top of a fully made air mattress on my bedroom floor, watching The Daily Show on my iPad. Penny was curled up in her bed on my bed.

I’d positioned the bed exactly where my real bed will go when it’s moved up so I’d get a real feel for how sleeping in my bedroom would be. Of course, I was about 8 inches off the floor; my bed would put me about 3 feet off the floor. So although I could see out the windows and door to the deck, I really couldn’t see down into the valley. That was okay. I could wait for that.

Air Mattress Bed
“Guest bed” accommodations in my new bedroom.

Outside, the wind howled. I fell asleep, as I often do when watching the Daily Show these days — what’s up with that? When I woke up, it was after 7 PM and the sun was setting. The room was cooling down — time to get the heat going.

I felt lazy. I have a ton of work to do — including putting up the rails around the edge of my loft and doing a few other tasks that are required before final inspection — but I just felt like taking it easy. It seems that I work in spurts these days, getting a ton done in a very short period of time and then sort of resting with a few odd jobs until the next spurt comes along. Yesterday, after the plumbers left, I’d installed my over-cabinet lighting in the kitchen and urethaned the trim for my pantry. Odd jobs. I need another spurt.

Anyway, by 9 PM I was back in the bedroom, in one of the oversized henley t-shirts I often wear to bed, reading. By 9:10 PM, I was asleep.

I slept well, waking only once for a trip to the bathroom. I learned that the heat makes a quiet whistling sound that’s probably got to do with the filter in the return air duct. (Adjustment needed.) I learned that my motion-sensitive lights in front of the garage doors are very sensitive and don’t stay on very long. (Adjustments needed.) I learned that the glow of the city’s lights keep my bedroom from getting completely dark — but it’s not nearly as bright as the ambient night light in Phoenix, which required blackout blinds in the condo. (No adjustment needed.)

And quiet. So very quiet.

Another First Night

When I woke in the early hours of the morning, I found myself thinking of first nights in other places I’d lived. I realized that I only remembered one of them: the first night in my New Jersey house.

It was January 1986 and my future wasband and I had fallen in love with an odd little house on a tree-lined street in Harrington Park. The house, which had been built in 1926, was made entirely of poured concrete: walls, floors, ceilings. It was on a narrow suburban lot that backed against a train track. We’d been assured that the train came by very seldom and rarely at night.

The two of us were sleeping on our old mattress on the floor in the bedroom — the new bedroom set my grandmother had bought us had not yet arrived — when a train came by in the middle of the night. With the house positioned between two crossings, the horn would always blast abeam us. I nearly jumped out of my skin. What the hell did we buy?

It couldn’t have been that bad, though. We lived there 11 years.

The only thing last night had in common with that night nearly 30 years ago is the mattress on the floor. My new home is comfortable and quiet. Although I can occasionally hear a passing train down in the valley two miles away, it’s never loud enough to wake me out of a sound sleep. And rather than a tiny yard and canopy of bare trees overhead, I have ten acres of land and a view of the valley, river, city, and mountains that stretches for miles.

I’ve come a long way.

Without a train screaming by in the middle of the night, will I remember last night? Well, thanks to this blog post, I will.

It Only Gets Better

As my construction project winds down, things in my new home only get better.

Yesterday, I loaded my new dishwasher with a mixture of dishes from my RV and my old home. (Have I mentioned how weird it is to have my old dishes, pots, pans, and kitchen linens in my new home? Weird but wonderful — I really like the stuff I had in Arizona and am so glad I packed it.) I cook meals on my new stove, oven, and microwave and store food in my new fridge. I soak in my wonderful new bathtub. I sit at my computer at my old desk to write blog posts or do my bills or shop or keep in touch with friends on Twitter and Facebook. Soon, I’ll be lounging on my old red leather sofa, watching my old flat screen TV, and sleeping on my old bed — all in my new space.

It’s been a lot of hard work and so worth the effort. Best of all, I’m almost done.

Being an Inspired Pilot

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An interview and more.

Inspired Pilot LogoA few weeks ago, I was contacted by Marvyn Robinson, a U.K. pilot and podcaster. He wanted to interview me for his podcast, Inspired Pilot.

I was flattered, of course. (I’m flattered any time someone contacts me with a request like this.) How could I not say yes?

About the Podcast

The About page on the Inspired Pilot website explains what the podcast is all about:

This will be a weekly show where I interview inspiring pilots, pilots with inspiring journeys from all around the world. Each week we will highlight the life of our featured pilot, follow their journey and how they got to where there are now.

We’ll examine how and why they got started, the decisions made along the way, experiences gained and lessons learned. All this with the view to INSPIRE seasoned pilots, mere mortal low hour pilots like myself, wannabe pilots and pilot enthusiasts alike, by guests sharing their inspiring journeys.

Just to give you an example of the spectrum of our guests, we are going to be talking to pilots from all areas of the aviation industry, from airline pilots, bush pilots, flight instructors, private pilots, bizjet, military and even retired pilots.

The whole idea behind the podcast is to inspire other pilots. The people chosen to be interviewed are supposed to be inspiring. So again, how can I not be flattered?

Who Needs Inspiration?

Every pilot knows at least one other pilot — or wannabe pilot — who just couldn’t seem to get it together to achieve his or her aviation goals. These people often have legitimate or imagined excuses for not moving forward. (I was married to one of these people for a while so I’ve seen it firsthand.)

For many people, the excuse is a life change. For example, a guy is taking flight lessons part time and gets married or his wife becomes pregnant. All of a sudden, his priorities change and he puts flying on the back burner. Many times, he never goes back to it.

For other people, the excuse is simpler: money. Learning to fly isn’t cheap and not everyone has disposable income to throw at what might only be a hobby. When the economy tanked, flight schools were hit hard because fewer people could afford lessons. Renting an aircraft once you become a pilot isn’t cheap either. It has to fit into your budget.

For a select group of people, there are medical issues that can stop a prospective pilot in his or her tracks. Uncorrectable vision, diabetes, untreatable high blood pressure, heart problems — there are a multitude of conditions that pilots simply are not allowed to have.

These are the people Inspired Pilot was created for. To get them excited about flying. To get them thinking of ways to work around the hurdles that face them. To inspire them to achieve their flying goals.

These are the people I want to inspire.

It’s More than a Piece of Paper

I’m one of the people who want to fly. I’m not interested in collecting pilot ratings just because I can.

For example, I learned to fly an open cockpit gyro last spring. It was a ton of fun. I got to fly that gyro again last week. George, who owns it and taught me to fly it, told me what I need to do to get my rating in it. I’m very close — all I need is a check ride.

But why get a rating for something I seldom have an opportunity to fly? That piece of paper is meaningless to me. I’m perfectly satisfied to fly the gyro occasionally with George. In the unlikely event that I buy a gyro or have access to one on a regular basis, I might reconsider getting that piece of paper. Until then, why bother?

And then there are just the folks who claim they want to fly and even move toward the goal of becoming a pilot and perhaps even become pilots — but then don’t do what it takes to stay current and safe. These are the nervous pilots, the pilots who are afraid to push the limits of their experience, the pilots who use the slightest possibility of inclement weather as an excuse not to fly. They’re pilots only because they have a piece of paper saying that they are. (This was the situation with my wasband.)

But are you really a pilot if you seldom fly? If you can come up with more excuses not to fly than reasons to fly? If you never seem to want to fly?

In my experience, a real pilot wants to fly.

If you’re not driven to fly, if you don’t feel a need to get up in an aircraft and explore your world from above, if the responsiveness of an aircraft under your control doesn’t excite you or fill you with joy — well, then you really shouldn’t waste your time and money becoming a pilot. There might be other activities that do for you what flying does for real pilots — bicycling, skiing, painting, writing, golfing, skydiving, whatever. Pursue the activity that means the most to you — because you will never be an inspired pilot.

The Podcast

All that said, if you want to get inspired — or even if you just want to hear what I said on the podcast — you can find it here: 12: Maria Langer – Commercial R44 Helicopter Pilot & Blogger – Inspired Pilot.

Unpacking My Kitchen

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What was I thinking?

Yesterday evening, I planned a little get-together with girlfriends to keep me company while I unpacked some (or all?) of my kitchen boxes. I’d packed well over a dozen kitchen boxes during my final months in Arizona and now that my kitchen cabinets and countertops were in, I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t start unpacking them and putting things away.

The Backstory

For those of you who don’t know the circumstances under which I left my Arizona home in the spring of 2013, let me give you a tiny bit of backstory. In 2012, while I was away in Washington for work, my husband told me he wanted a divorce and began living with a desperate old whore in Scottsdale. When I returned to Arizona, I found the locks changed on my home. I broke in, got the permission of the court to live there without him, and began what would become an extremely ugly divorce battle. My future ex-husband seemed anxious to get me out of the house — which he claimed he wanted to keep — but refused to agree to a reasonable settlement and even pushed back the original court date to delay things, mistakenly believing that I was as anxious to leave my only home as he was to get me out. (To this day, I have no idea how he could have made so many stupid mistakes.)

Meanwhile, other than making a few trips to visit friends and family and start a new job, I was pretty much stuck waiting at home, heartbroken, bored, and angry. I filled my time by packing up things I’d bought throughout the years — things I probably would have left behind if the bastard I’d married had settled. I blogged about this here. (Of course, if you want the dirty details on my divorce ordeal, you might want to read about my upcoming divorce book, tentatively titled Expensive Delusions: A Midlife Crisis Gone Horribly Wrong.)

Anyway, the longer I was stuck waiting, the more I packed. I was finally set free when he agreed to a list of the items I’d leave behind in exchange for me leaving the house. Agreeing to that list was the first — and so far only — reasonable thing he’s done in the past three years.

Nearly two years later, I have dozens of boxes stacked on pallets in my RV garage, waiting to be unpacked in my new home.

Kitchen Unpacking

The kitchen unpacking was the obvious place to start. With the installation of the cabinets, appliances, and countertops, my kitchen is 95% done. All I need to do is finish the flooring (which I’ll likely do today), add the trim, put shelves in my pantry, and get my kitchen sink and dishwasher hooked up (which will be done Monday). I was already using the refrigerator to store some of my food and the stove and microwave to prepare some of my meals. It would be nice to cook with my good pots and pans and eat on my good plates. These were among the first things I packed — the things I knew I wanted with me when I built my new home — and I hadn’t laid eyes on them for well over two years.

I spent most of yesterday laying Pergo in my great room. I was really hoping to get the whole room done before my guests arrived, but by 3:30, I still had the far end of the room and much of the kitchen to do. I spent another half hour cleaning up and starting to bring up boxes. Then I took a shower and prepped to receive my guests.

Great Room
Here’s what my “great room” looked like before I brought up the kitchen boxes. I like to think of this as the calm before the storm.

Although I was hoping to do all of the unpacking and let my friends just keep me company, they dug right in. Soon, the floor was full of empty boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, and unwrapped kitchen items. I was extremely happy to get those every day dishes and pots and pans unwrapped and put away. And pleased to find many of the things I’d forgotten all about — various vases, my canister set, hand-made serving plates, glass mixing bowls, stainless steel measuring cups and spoons — basically everything I’d need in my new kitchen. And even a few things I don’t use often but really like, like my three little teapots, which will look great on the shelves near my window.

I found my immersion blender, which I’d been searching for months ago, in the bottom of the box marked “Last Kitchen Box” — just where I thought it was. That’s also where I found the last bunch of things I packed: two coffee makers, my coffee grinder, a few mugs, and various things I was using right up to the last day I lived in my old home. Some of those things duplicate what I’ve been using while living in my RV; I’ll take the items that are in the best condition for my home and put the duplicates back in the RV.

But I also found things that I can’t believe I packed: a microwave rice cooker I didn’t use in Arizona and won’t likely use here, a sprouts spouter I hadn’t used in at least five years, several tiny milk pitchers, at least ten extremely uninteresting serving plates and bowls — the list goes on and on. There’s the white marble lazy susan that’s heavy and ugly. There’s the glass plates shaped like fish, which I remember once thinking that I had to have and then rarely used. There’s a pair of desert dishes shaped like a bunch of grapes. There’s a pair of very large Starbucks Christmas mugs. There are also duplicates — I can’t believe I packed three cutting boards, even though I know I left at least one or two behind.

I know I got rid of a lot of my things before I moved — the local thrift shop could have opened a whole room with the Jeep-loads of things I dropped by every week — but I definitely packed stuff that should have been given away.

And now it’s here.

On Being a Packrat

My friends and I got through most — but not all — of the kitchen boxes. This morning, I came back upstairs to the crazy mess I’d left the night before. As I sipped my coffee and gazed out the window at the brightening landscape around me, I gave it some serious thought.

Unpacking Mess
Looks like I have a lot of cleaning up to do this morning!

I know I live with a packrat mentality — it’s one of my problems. I think it comes from my early years, back before I was able to afford the things I needed. Back then — especially in college — I became a scavenger, always looking for things I could use in my life. My dorm room was a perfect example, with furniture, lamps, and even a rug that I’d scavenged from the trash area on moving day.

Plates
Nice plates, but do I really need them?

Even years later, when I lived in Arizona, I’d often encounter items I thought would be useful and save them. For example, I remember buying frozen crème brûlée that came in very nice flat ceramic plates that had a terra cotta look. I couldn’t see throwing out those plates. So here they are, in my new home, making me wonder what the hell I’m going to do with them.

Even today, it’s hard to pass up an item I can use as is or modify to repurpose for another use. As I type this, there’s a load of eight pallets in the back of my pickup truck. I use them to create things like raised bed planters. I have lumber and scrap metal left over from the construction of my building — I’ll use them to redo my chicken coop this summer. And don’t get me started on the empty wine, cider, and beer bottles — all raw materials for my glass work.

Anyway, last night I’d tried to put away all of the things I packed, but with the clarity that comes after a good night’s sleep, I realize that less is more. It’s time to unload those extra things — the things I should have gotten rid of while packing.

I don’t want to continue my cluttered packrat habits in my new home.

Besides, I have a lot more boxes to unpack.

Construction: Countertop Installation

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Two visits, amazing results.

On May 20, 2014, I began blogging about the construction of my new home in Malaga, WA. You can read all of these posts — and see the time-lapse and walkthrough movies that go with many them — by clicking the new home construction tag.

When I designed my new kitchen, countertops were a big question for me. Back in Arizona, I had tile countertops which looked fine and could handle direct contact with hot pots and pans, but lacked a smooth surface for rolling out pie/cookie dough and were a royal pain in the ass to keep clean. (Think white grout.) I knew I wanted an easier to care for surface, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted. The Home Depot kitchen design person helped me make the decision: granite.

Ubatuba granite
The color I chose is called Ubatuba, which is mostly black with greenish gold specks that work well with my cabinet and wall colors.

Granite! I’d always wanted stone countertops but it was just many of the things that were apparently not within the realm of possibility in my old life. Home Depot had a sale going on granite and I really liked one of their “level A” (i.e., least expensive) colors. Why the hell shouldn’t I treat myself to some nice countertops?

She worked up an estimate for the two countertops — main and island — and backsplash on the main island. She included the radius cut I’d need for the end shelf unit. I chose the simplest bevel, which was available at no extra charge. After an initial sticker shock with the final number she came up with, I signed and paid for my purchase.

That was back in January 2015.

Some people might question why I went with Home Depot for my countertops. Simple: I used them for my cabinets and the price was acceptable. Installation was included. I didn’t have to visit a half dozen shops and be told a dozen different things about two dozen different options. I had enough on my plate as general contractor and electrician for the project. I wanted to keep things simple. That was worth maybe spending a little bit more than tracking down two matching pieces of granite, getting them properly cut and delivered to my home, and finding someone with plenty of experience to install them. Home Depot would take care of everything with their vendor so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

The Template

My project started really coming together in February when the insulation, drywall, and painting was done. (I really need to blog about that one of these days.) I was on a 16-day vacation in Arizona when they were finishing up, but I scheduled the cabinet delivery for soon after my return. I had a shorter trip to California the following week and scheduled the cabinet installation for the day after my return from that trip. When I had a solid date for the cabinet installation, I booked the countertop measurement appointment. They needed the cabinets in place to create their template.

Two installers showed up on Friday, March 13 in a small truck with a bunch of previously used white corrugated plastic, tape, and a glue gun. While I continued working on my electrical system, they busied themselves in my kitchen, measuring spaces and cutting/gluing the plastic into the shape of my future countertops. That would be the template they’d use back in the shop to cut my countertops.

Countertop Template
The templates for my kitchen countertops were made of corrugated plastic.

They asked me a few questions and tried halfheartedly to upsell me a fancier bevel, which I didn’t want. Then they advised me to get wooden corbels to support the breakfast bar side of my island countertop, which would overhang 12 inches. They told me the corbels should be 10 x 16 inches in size and that I should mount them with the long side against the wall. They advised me to avoid metal brackets because metal bends and wood doesn’t. I took notes, signed the paperwork they presented, and watched them leave.

Because the countertop company only came to the Wenatchee area once every two weeks from the Seattle area where they’re based, it would be two weeks before my countertops arrived. That was a good thing, mostly because the cabinet company had screwed up and made my lower end cabinet out of the wrong wood. It would need to be replaced. The cabinet folks and Home Depot were already on it. It would arrive in plenty of time before the countertop installation.

The Corbels

Getting wooden corbels the exact size the countertop guys recommended was not easy — at least at first. I worked the web over the weekend and found all kinds of corbels, none of which came very close to the size they suggested.

Then I found ProWoodMarket. This company makes and sells a huge range of wooden brackets, braces, corbels, and other decorative and structural wood pieces. I put in a request for custom corbels and got a response back within an hour. The price was within reason — actually, no more expensive than the non-custom corbels they offered on their site. Unfortunately, to get them on time, I’d have to either put a rush on the order or the shipping or both. I paid a rush fee to get my order to the front of the production line and took my chances on shipping. My order was shipped out the next day via UPS.

I took another trip to California. The package arrived the day I left — I saw it sitting on my doorstep in the view from one of my security cameras. Fortunately, the weather was good that week and I didn’t have to worry about the box getting soaked.

When I got home, I opened the box and was pleasantly surprised by the size and appearance of the corbels. They’d been carved out of cedar and I could see the character of the wood, including tree rings and knots. The color was perfect — I wouldn’t have to stain them. Just a clear coat finish — a woodworking friend suggested tung oil — and they’d last forever.

The trick was to get them installed on the stub wall of my kitchen island. The problem wasn’t finding solid studs to fasten them to — I could see exactly where the studs were because the top of the wall was unfinished and the fasteners I’d used to attach the studs were visible. The problem was lining them up to be level with the countertops — which where slightly taller than the stub wall — and holding them steady while fastening them into place. That took more than two hands. I’d need help.

My friend Bob came to the rescue. He’s off on Fridays and I asked him to come by after breakfast. I made a 6 AM run to Home Depot to buy the right fasteners — 4-1/2 inch super-duty wood screws — and wood buttons to cover the screw holes. He showed up around 8:30 AM and let me make him a cup of coffee while his dog, Skip, played with Penny. Then we got to work.

I have a lot of tools — and seem to be acquiring more every day — but Bob has even more. He brought along his Forstner drill bit set. These bits are perfect for making inset drill holes that would accept a wood button. We marked two places on each corbel to drill holes and Bob did his magic. Then we used my four-foot level to position each corbel against a stub wall stud, level with the cabinet tops. The screws sucked the corbels hard into place. We were done in half an hour.

Corbels
The corbels after installation on the stub wall. I bought the wrong size wood buttons; need larger ones I’ll get on my next Home Depot run. (And yes, that’s a quiche on the stovetop — the first I baked in my new oven.)

The Installation

Although the installers were supposed to arrive between 8 AM and 11 AM on Friday, March 27, they were late. They called around 10 AM and claimed they were having trouble with their truck. That was disappointing; I’d been trying to get the plumber in that afternoon to plumb my kitchen sink and dishwasher and I knew he didn’t want to come on a Friday afternoon. The countertop delay gave him the excuse he needed to put it off until Monday. It was a good thing, because the countertop guys didn’t actually arrive until after noon.

Carrying Countertop up the Stairs
Here are the installers, carrying up the countertop for my kitchen island. I can only imagine what this piece of stone weighed.

They didn’t waste any time — I might have been their first installation for the day, but I wasn’t their last. One by one, they brought the two pieces of my main countertop in through the front door and up the stairs. (The countertop was more than 12 feet long and couldn’t be created in one piece; there would be a seam in the middle of the sink.) When they laid one piece atop the cabinets near where my sink would go, I saw how perfect the color would go with my cabinets and walls.

While they worked, I stayed out of their way. I had begun laying Pergo in the great room while I waited for them and kept at it, stopping every once in a while to check out their progress and answer questions. They had a lot of small tasks to do, including setting my under-mount kitchen sink in place and drilling the holes for the faucet and soap dispenser. They worked slowly and carefully — a team that obviously knew exactly what they were doing and wasn’t going to let their late start affect the quality of their work.

Installing Countertops
The countertop installers align the two halves of my main kitchen counter.

It took them nearly three hours to do the job. That included laying in the back splashes, setting the stove in place, applying a sealant to the granite, and caulking everything that needed caulking. When they were finished, it looked — well, amazing.

Finished Countertops
I can’t believe how good my kitchen looks now that the countertops have been installed.

They packed up, had me sign a few papers, suggested that I apply granite sealer again, and gave me some advice about not putting hot pots on the stone. I gave them some cash and told them to have dinner on me. Then I watched them drive away.

Brewing Coffee
Another milestone: brewing coffee on the countertop in my new kitchen.

Later, I brought my coffee maker upstairs and set it on the counter. This morning, I brewed my coffee in my new kitchen for the first time.

Tonight is “ladies night” again at my house. It’s a special occasion: Kitchen Box Unpacking. We’ll enjoy some wine and munchies while I unpack the multitude of boxes packed with kitchen things I brought from my old Arizona home. I’ll see what fits in my drawers and cabinets — whatever doesn’t fit or I don’t want anymore, I’ll give out as door prizes to my guests. Should be fun!

On Pilots and the Sacred Trust

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A violation of trust, an act of murder.

Like most other frequent airline travelers, I was horrified to learn this morning that the cause of this week’s German Wings airplane crash in the French Alps is most likely the deliberate action of the “co-pilot” (i.e., First Officer), who locked the “pilot” (i.e., Captain) out of the “cockpit” (i.e., flight deck) and put the airplane into a steep descent that ended when it hit a mountain.

The only good thing to note about this is that men, women, and children on board likely never felt a thing as their lives were extinguished, like a candle’s flame between two calloused fingers.

As a pilot, this was more horrific to me. Why? Because the pilot who is responsible violated what I consider a sacred trust.

Let me try to explain. When I fly my helicopter, there is nothing more important to me than my passengers. By climbing aboard my aircraft, whether it’s for a 7-minute “hop ride” around town or a cross-country journey lasting hours, they have proven to me that they trust me with their lives. I don’t take that trust lightly. Maybe I pay closer attention to details, like the wind speed and direction or the way the helicopter lifts off the ground into a hover with their weight distribution. Maybe I fly a little higher, to reduce mechanical turbulence on a windy day and ensure that I’m well outside the “Deadman’s Curve” in the unlikely event of an engine failure. Maybe I keep my bank angle on turns a little flatter and my approaches and departures a little shallower to ensure a smooth flight.

I want my passengers to be not only safe, but comfortable. I want their memories of flying with me to include only the pleasant experiences they have during the flight.

I know a lot of pilots who don’t seem to think this way. Their goal is to impress their passengers with what they consider their flying skill. They want to give “E-Ticket rides.” For some reason, they think this is what their passengers want — and maybe some of them think they do.

But what passengers really want is to get off the aircraft in the same condition they got on it: safe, unharmed — and yes — alive.

And that’s what I call a sacred trust. The passengers trust the pilot to ensure their safety. If the pilot does anything to compromise that safety — whether it’s buzzing a backyard barbecue or diving into a mountain in France — he’s violated that sacred trust.

Pilots who even consider doing dangerous or suicidal things with passengers on board should not be in control of an aircraft.

Airplane
I’m about to get on this airplane for a flight from CA to WA. Do I need to worry about the mental state of the pilots?

As a pilot, I’m upset that a young German pilot decided to kill himself and the 149 people who trusted him with their lives in such a horrific act. I’m worried about what future passengers will think about their pilots’ mental state of mind. I’m worried that people will use this incident to fuel their fears of flying, to avoid flying altogether. I’m worried that the FAA or airline management or other authorities will enact knee-jerk rules and regulations — like the one that made cockpit doors impregnable — that further burden responsible pilots with tests and paperwork that add to their stress and workload.

Most of all, I’m angry about the half-informed media coverage and their “experts,” jumping to conclusions and exploring crazy conspiracy theories, grasping for someone to blame, instilling fears in viewers and listeners and readers.

Again.

Let’s get this straight: it’s all about a pilot who betrayed his passengers’ sacred trust.

This is not just suicide by airplane. This pilot committed murder, pure and simple. In doing so, he sullied the reputation of other professional pilots who take their responsibilities as a pilot seriously.

And that’s what upsets me most of all.

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28-Feb-15 Update: “Pilot Who Downed Airliner Vowed ‘To Do Something’ To Be Remembered” might shed some additional light on his state of mind.