The belted one
Status and the hierarchy of lavs
It’s a juvenile-sounding term, suggesting that someone needs to be physically strapped to the seat in order to use it. Of course, the belt’s real reason is to boost the seat count and transform what can be a truly uncomfortable seat into a legally certified one.
When it comes to design and functionality, these seats range from the most basic (cat litter in a sliding tray) to meh (“blue water” flushing models) to state-of-the-art (airline-style, vacuum flush, complete with external servicing of the holding tank). As you might expect, the price of the airplane can be an indicator of what equipment you get. It varies in puzzling ways. A new airplane costing up to $8 million or so could have cat litter and an accordion-style door, blue-water, or vacuum flush—with a hard door, a sink, and a mirror. It’s only when you get north of $20 million that you can count on a truly respectable private space, located forward and/or aft. Yes, the globe-striding behemoths often have two lavatories. Some even come with showers. So, there’s this hierarchy among turbine airplanes. Speed and range aren’t the only measures. However, if you’re in an airplane with a nonstop range of 7,000 to 8,000 nautical miles, you will use the lav, and then you will rank its importance at the top of the scale.
I guess manufacturers believe that some airplanes with shorter ranges don’t warrant high-end lavs. In turbine airplanes with ranges under 2,000 nm, trips don’t last much more than three hours. That’s long enough for most to avoid the need to “belt in.”
What about a flight where all seats will be full? Status rears its head once more. I was set to go on a recent flight in a seven-seat jet when I was told it would be a “full boat,” meaning all seats would be occupied. Uh, oh. Someone was going to have to sit on the belted potty. But who? This is how you discover your status within a business organization. If you’re the junior employee, or the low person on the totem pole, cruel custom says the belted potty is yours. Use it, and you’ll earn admiration for having spared others the indignity and for being a good sport. On the other hand, if senior management types claim the seat, they earn karma points for setting an example of magnanimity. On this flight, a passenger cancelled, so the Belted One went empty. Whew!
I’m having fun talking toilet strategies, but for pilots, dealing with the lav is not an abstraction. It’s part of the job. It’s up to you to carry out the tray, fill the water tanks, or monitor the external servicing of that fancy vacuum toilet’s storage tank. Training for the type rating is sure to dwell on these subjects. I still remember some of the details for an Embraer Legacy 500. How much can the waste storage tank hold? 5.3 gallons. How many flushes do you get from the 3.96-gallon water tank? 26. After the waste tank is emptied, how long do you have to rinse the waste tank with water? Three minutes.
Learning all this in a classroom setting is one thing. Like every pilot skill, practice makes perfect. And things like cat litter and plumbing are quickly forgotten once you feel the surge of takeoff thrust and lift off into a climb so enthusiastic that you have to pull back the power to avoid busting the 250-below-10 speed limit.
