One of the truly unique facets of aviation that increasingly appeals to me is the expectation that pilots will perform as professionals in the cockpit.
They can joke, or not. They can talk about their favorite movie, or song, or fashion trend — or they can just stick to the requirements of the flight.
The job is to do the job, not to become best friends. If we can function in good humor, that’s great. If not, we just stick to the job at hand.
No muss, no fuss, no cursing each other out because the person in the left seat has an idealogical difference of opinion with the person in the right seat. None of that matters. As we all learned in our first hours at the controls: When all else fails, fly the airplane.
In my career I’ve only refused to fly with two people. That’s it. Just two. In both cases, I felt being airborne beside them would put me outside the realm of safe flight, and so I stood my ground. In one case, losing my job in the process. No regrets here.
My first no-go involved a doctor from Europe. He was a private pilot, and probably should have been encouraged to remain a private pilot in search of some remedial training and a flight review. Instead, the owner of the flight school I flew for encouraged him to seek out a commercial certificate, which he did.
I was assigned to fly with him, which was fine with me. At that point in my career I was more focused on adding flight hours to my logbook than the size of my paycheck. Things went well right up until we got airborne. Then the scenario soured quickly.
My student was willful and argumentative. He bristled at any instruction I offered, preferring to figure out how to fly chandelles and lazy 8s on his own. And that was on a good flight.
The final straw for me occurred when we were doing pattern work in a Cessna 172RG. While turning downwind for Runway 23, I pointed out a motor-glider beginning its takeoff roll on Runway 11.
While that may seem unusual to have traffic using two different runways simultaneously at a non-towered field, at this particular field that was a normal occurrence. My intent was to share a practical example of why a good collision avoidance scan matters, even in the pattern, from above pattern altitude all the way to the ground.
My student saw things differently. He began yelling that he was in charge and didn’t need any input from me. He punched the panel a couple times to emphasize his dominance. I answered simply, “Okay, make this one full stop.”
His landing was good, which brought a wide smile to his face. We cleared the runway, brought the airplane to a stop, and I got out. “Go ahead and tie it down,” I said before removing my headset. “We’re done.”
My employer insisted I fly with the customer. I stood my ground, and lost my job over it. Fair enough. I’ll take being a temporarily unemployed flight instructor over being a dead flight instructor any day.
Our responsibility as pilots is to assure the safety of the flight. It’s not to get paid, it’s not to get to the destination on time, and it’s certainly not to risk our lives to placate the bruised ego of a screaming passenger, flight student, or peer.
Given the situation, I felt I was making the smart choice. I still do. And I’m still here.
My second refusal to fly came as the result of a fellow who contacted me, asking for some pointers on flying his ultralight. After arriving at the airport and being shown the aircraft, I noticed a few discrepancies. It had two seats, carried 10 gallons of fuel, and weighed at least twice the limit set in 14 CFR Part 103.
I explained to the man that his aircraft wasn’t an ultralight and he’d need to earn a recreational or private pilot certificate to fly it (this pre-dated sport pilot certificates). He waved the news off as if it was of no more concern than a circling insect.
His plan was to give rides, because he heard pilots could make good money doing that. Well, that’s not allowed in amateur-built experimental aircraft, I told him, and even if it was, he’d need a commercial pilot certificate to conduct those flights. Again he assured me that was no problem, he didn’t need a license, he just needed the airplane, and some help learning to fly it.
The conversation continued along those lines until I finally told him he couldn’t legally fly the way he intended to, and I reiterated that he really needed to take flight lessons to earn his certificate. That would allow him to gain the experience he needed to be able to fly rides, someday in the future, with a commercial certificate and an appropriate aircraft.
As you can imagine, he disagreed. We never flew together, for which I’m very glad. Others did, however. He flew passengers, as he’d planned to do. They paid for the privilege too. Until he and his last passenger entered an accelerated stall on takeoff, pitched over, and made a good sized dent in the earth. Neither of them survived.
Two pilots walk into a bar. That’s the opening of a joke, I think. Or a spirited conversation about all sorts of divisive, exciting topics. In the bar that’s fine.
In the cockpit, it’s best to just focus on doing the job. Personal opinions don’t mean much in the long run.
But doing the job responsibly? When we do that, everybody wins.
Well said. Nothing like an arrogant jerk in the cockpit to ruin your day and as history proves end your life and that of a boat load of trusting passengers especially prior to the advent of CRM training. Don’t blame you at all for walking on the Euro doc. The second case as you obviously knew was an accident waiting to happen and did though sadly at the expense of an innocent passenger.
The hardest thing for a CFI to do is to tell a student he/she cannot fly. I was briefing a new client on the requirements to be a pilot and when I got to the medical he said he had diabetes…my heart sunk. I referred him to my flight surgeon…never heard from him again. Another…A father (airline pilot) brought his son and daughter to me to learn to fly…well both of them were being pushed by dad and neither of them had their dad’s enthusiasm. That was a hard one…having to tell dad. Lastly…a CFI friend was having trouble with a student and asked me if I would take him over. I tried but this guy broke into a sweat just getting close to an airplane and never stopped until he was back on the ground. Had to give him the bad news too.
Most instructors will have a few stories about pilots who shouldn’t be flying. Sometimes there are real surprises.
Years ago an FAA Inspector sent a USAF F4 driver to me. The driver had failed a multiengine ATP initial checkride. He had passed the oral with the inspector but had not flown to ATP standards. He did not want to wait 30 days for a re-test.
We flew in a Beech Duchess BE76 which has a lot less power than the F4 Phantom the USAF said he was qualified to fly.
After several hours in the Duchess and not one ILS properly flown, after failing to understand that a Duchess on one engine cannot fly a 7000 foot MEA I refused to sign off another ATP test for this driver.
The FAA Inspector later told me he was glad I’d done so since he said he wished he hadn’t passed him on the oral.
Every type and model airplane has its own limitations and the pilot has to understand them and his/her own.
Great reading, however I would like to point out a little mistake in the picture of the “ultralights”, the picture shown was taken at a Fly-in in Mayagüez, Puerto Rico, but the aircrafts are not one seat part 103 ultralights (only the purple one that is at the far side of the picture and barely seen is part 103), those are two-seat Experimental Light Sport Aircraft (ELSA) with 10 gallon gas tank, N-numbered, and do require a Sport Pilot’s license or greater.
Rafael, you’re a nerd. I love it.
LOL. It’s just that I recognized the picture (I was there that day), and I started my Sport PIlot’s License in one of those Quicksilvers. They DO have space for a passenger.