Arriving late is no big deal
The summer of 1977 was a time of transition for me. I had been an Air Force pilot for the previous eight years, but my chances of continuing to fly for the Air Force were not looking all that hot. The airlines were in one of their layoff cycles, so that wasn't too promising either. Although I was a certificated flight instructor, teaching students part-time was not going to put food on the table. With a wife and toddler to support, it was time to look for work in another field.
I dusted off my civil engineering degree and interviewed with an engineering firm in Joplin, Missouri, in the southwest corner of the state. The job interview went well, with the principals willing to accept my minimal engineering experience. But I was really excited by the fact that the senior partner had been a pilot for many years until he lost his medical certificate, and he was anxious for me to find some way to fly for the company.
The firm's client base consisted primarily of small towns throughout Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Kansas. One of my responsibilities would be to meet with the mayors and city councils of these small towns, selling our services and updating them about ongoing projects. And because none of these towns had full-time councils, city council meetings always took place in the evening.
Evening meetings in towns 200 miles from home was the downside of the job. By car, it was generally a four-hour drive on winding Ozark roads, requiring a departure from the office in the middle of the afternoon, dinner on the road, a night in a motel, and a return the following morning. I saw opportunity.
While it was true that the senior partner was in love with flying, other members of the staff were not. In particular, the bookkeeper did not see how a trip by air could be cheaper than one by car, especially in the Piper Seneca that I was flying. I argued that I could put in a full day in the office and still make a meeting on the other side of the state. I could generally make the trip, door to door, in about two and one-half hours. And if the meeting was over by 10 p.m., I could easily be back home in time to get some sleep and still be in the office at 8 a.m. Of course, flying made economic sense only if I did not need a hotel room on the road somewhere.
On a glorious afternoon in June I set off from Joplin to Cape Girardeau, on the other side of the state. Weather looked good, except for some isolated thunderstorms. I figured that I could dodge any that I saw, and I figured that they would dissipate around sunset. So I had a pleasant, uneventful flight out. I met with the city council, and at around 11:30 that evening I checked weather for the return to Joplin.
The weather briefing included isolated thunderstorms in southeastern Kansas and southwestern Missouri. The storms were out there somewhere, and would continue until 4 or 5 a.m. But in my mind, isolated meant that there was a lot of space to go around them. So I launched.
The night was black--no moon--and the terrain over southern Missouri is rugged and sparsely inhabited. But I could see stars, so I figured that I would see thunderstorms before I reached them. And about 15 minutes into the flight I started to see lightning strikes to the west. As I droned on westward, the questions going through my mind were, How far west are those storms? Are they on my side of Joplin, or beyond? And, There sure is a lot of lightning.
Kansas City Center did not have much in the way of weather radar, and there was no traffic in the Joplin area to offer a pilot report. The Joplin tower had long closed for the night. The only airport of consequence between the two sides of the state is at Springfield, so I figured that I could land there if I really needed to. But I was doing a good job of convincing myself that the storms were west of Joplin. And even if they were not, I figured that I could fly around them. And if they did happen to be over the Joplin airport, I could just fly circles to the north or south until they blew through. The lightning was unnerving, but at least it showed me where the storms were.
I made it as far as Springfield without a single raindrop and had about 60 miles to go. Springfield Approach Control couldn't tell me anything that I didn't already know: There were thunderstorms in the Joplin area.
I passed Springfield and flew on for another five to 10 minutes--only about 15 minutes to go. The light show was continuing in front of me, and I was beginning to lose my confidence. But the thought of a warm bed at home was enticing.
And that is when I asked myself, "Are you nuts? What would you tell any student who was doing what you are doing?" And then I asked myself, "What would your wife say about this? What would your boss and co-workers say?" So, I told Springfield Approach that I was going to make a one-eighty and land at Springfield. At 1 a.m.,� there was no problem finding a place to park and tie down.
In those days there was no FBO at the airport, just a general aviation counter at the terminal building. I found a spot on the floor and slept until 6:30 a.m. I stuck my head outside to see a beautiful sunrise, and the promise of a warm and sunny day. I was home about an hour later, and, after a shower and quick breakfast, in the office--only a little later than I normally would have arrived.
What did I learn from all of this? First, arriving late, whether an hour late or a day late, is no big deal. Second, given the choice, friends, business acquaintances, and loved ones would rather see you arriving late than not at all. Four hours on an airport terminal floor was the best night's sleep I ever had.
"Learning Experiences" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for students and pilots to learn from the experiences of others. It is intended to provoke thought and discussion, acknowledging that actions taken by the authors were not necessarily the best choices under the circumstances. We encourage you to discuss any questions you have about a particular scenario with your flight instructor.
Learn what air traffic controllers can tell you about thunderstorms by taking the AOPA Air Safety Foundation's new online course, Weather Wise: Thunderstorms and ATC.
Related Articles
