It’s the morning of my checkride. I’ve been spending money like a drunken sailor in Singapore, dragged my wife along to Florida to train, passed the knowledge test, and done all that the FAA and my instructor required. The weather is perfect as only Gulf Coast Florida spring weather can be. The crosswinds and
turbulence that play hob with light sport aircraft won’t be a problem this morning.
I’m as ready as any student can be. Calm, rested, prepared. The bright pink line on the sectional chart is backed up with a plan that tells me exactly how fast, how far, how long, and how much fuel the checkride cross-country will require. Answers to questions about regulations are rolling around in my head and all is right in my aviation world. By mid-morning I’ll have my paper sport pilot certificate and begin packing up for the trip home.
Two miles to go to the flight school and my cell phone rings with the flight school manager’s harried announcement, “Don’t bother to come in! There’s a problem in the FAA computer with your name and it can’t be fixed!”
Overconfidence is as bad as ignorance when it comes to flying, but I really had done well. Now all the sweat and money was swirling down the drain. And it was my momma’s fault!
I’m the third iteration of my name and probably the last. Like most people, Momma taught me to spell my name. And I obeyed to the letter. Johnnie, period. No “Y” for us. My father’s gravestone said “ie,” Momma said “ie,” church and school records agreed. Driver’s license? Yup, “ie.” Right up until I went into the Marines in the late 1960s. My mother, probably drugged silly by the common painkillers used in childbirth in the late 1940s, had signed my birth certificate with a Y!
I have lived with this problem for six decades and completed two careers, multiple FCC licenses, and college with only minor inconveniences, but post-September 11, 2011, all that is changed. The FAA is on high alert to prevent fraudulent pilot certificates. I agree with them. I don’t even care which version of my name they prefer. My mistake was in using the driver’s-license spelling on the test (per the request for a picture ID) and the birth certificate/passport/military ID spelling otherwise. And my instructor and I could not change the spelling in the FAA’s arcane, tightly secured computer system.
Fortunately, the wise designated pilot examiner had seen such tomfoolery before. As one of the trusted sources of information for the FAA, he could actually change the spelling of my name on the errant documents (after a careful examination of them) and we could go fly!
OK, miss an altitude by 50 feet or a heading by five degrees and nobody will care very much. Get sloppy with the spelling of your name and the government will rain on your party. Trust no one. Even your sainted mother can get it wrong. Use the spelling that’s on your federal papers every time. No initials, no shortcuts, and no nicknames—ever! Besides, names like “Buzz,” “Crash,” or “Flip” don’t belong on a pilot certificate.
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