A friend was visiting from overseas and knew that I had obtained a new type rating. He had never seen an FAA pilot certificate and was as curious to see mine as I was to see his. I proudly withdrew the card from my wallet and handed it to him. He looked at the certificate and seemed somewhat confused.
Careful not to demean my newly minted certificate, he asked, "Is this really your pilot's license?"
"Ah, yes. Yes, it is," I replied. "Is something wrong?"
Then he began to chuckle. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, but I can't believe that a pilot certificate held in such high esteem around the world looks so amateurish. My son could create something more impressive using our home computer."
He returned the gray card, withdrew his certificate from a jacket pocket, and said, "Here. Look at mine."
I could see why he was so proud. His license was an objet d'art encased in a soft, thin leather cover with the seal of the issuing agency embossed on the front.
I looked again at my new certificate and was not proud of its appearance. I began to see it in a new light. It is a scrap of gray paper that appears to have been prepared on a poor-quality dot-matrix printer. It arrives in the mail ready to be cut from a larger piece of paper, as if it were a coupon to be clipped from a cereal box. No, strike that. The coupons that I sent as a child to Battle Creek, Michigan, looked more official than the documents produced in Oklahoma City.
The most recent change to the appearance of the pilot certificate was the result of the FAA's needing more space in which to list a pilot's ratings. Some pilots have such an abundance of ratings that these could not be listed on the front of one certificate. Instead, pilots were issued two or more cards. The new certificate enables the FAA to list more of a pilot's ratings on the back of a single card, where there is more room.
When word of the new certificate began to spread, many thought that this might signal the end of the manner in which the FAA cryptically displays pilot ratings and limitations. Because the FAA refuses to use punctuation marks, there are instances in which the applicability of certain ratings is difficult to determine with certainty. But, alas, the new certificate is no easier to interpret than the old.
FAA certificates are not very durable, either. One that has not been replaced for a number of years is usually dog-eared and fragile from handling. Many pilots opt to laminate their certificates, a subject of some controversy. But according to the FAA's Office of Flight Standards, it is legal to laminate a certificate, because there is no rule to the contrary. Be certain, however, that a certificate is signed before entombing it in plastic.
In sum, U.S. pilot certificates are disgraceful examples of bureaucratic indifference. Those responsible for them apparently have no concept of the blood, sweat, and tears required to earn, maintain, and upgrade the ratings so casually represented on our certificates.
There is something exciting about receiving a new permanent certificate. It represents official recognition of our aeronautical accomplishments. And yet it is so disappointingly mediocre in appearance. My Social Security card, driver's license, and every other card in my wallet are more attractive than my drab FAA certificate.
If I were king of the FAA, I would mandate the design of a new pilot certificate. It would be made of plastic and be similar in appearance to a credit card. Ratings and limitations would be shown on the back in a punctuated, easy-to-understand format. I also would color-code the certificates in some way, to reflect the level of pilot accomplishment. For example, a student pilot certificate might be green; a private pilot certificate, blue; a commercial pilot certificate, silver; and an ATP, gold. If those within the agency lack the incentive or creativity to redesign the certificate, I would either hire a graphic designer or institute a contest intended to attract talent from outside the agency. (And while the FAA goes about this task, it might apply the same effort to its Wings pilot profiency program; the certificates awarded to participants for various levels of achievement are so bland that they fail to provide incentive.)
The FAA pooh-bahs, of course, would not do this, claiming to have neither the budget nor the resources. But it could give pilots the option of receiving a garden-variety license or paying a few dollars for a certificate more befitting the holder's accomplishments. With FAA oversight and authorization, a subcontractor such as the AOPA Air Safety Foundation, Jeppesen, or any other interested and trustworthy organization could issue such certificates. My guess is that most pilots would opt for the more prestigious of the two.
In the grand scheme of things, I admit that this is not a subject of earth-shattering importance. But it certainly would be nice if the FAA would make the effort to create something about which it and the pilot community could be justifiably proud. To paraphrase Stelio Frati, famed designer of the sleek SIAI Marchetti SF.260: It takes no more effort to design something beautiful than it does to design something that is not.
