Cockpit Chronicle

Hi Everyone,

Many thanks to all of you who followed along with my “return to flying” series, where I shared my journey back to the cockpit after medical leave. That chapter wrapped up with my retirement flight—and a memorable trip to New Zealand.

I chuckle from time-to-time when random humorous moments from my 33-year flying career pop into my head. It occurred to me to run a series delving into such moments ~ so, hang on!

For instance, we were flying along at cruise, cockpit quiet, beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, when the copilot suddenly chuckled. The rather serious Captain asked what was so funny. The copilot responded, "Oh, nothing... I just told myself a joke."

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

As a flight engineer on the Boeing 727 for Trans World Airlines, one of my duties was making the “top of climb” announcement.

One morning, we were flying from Washington, D.C. to New York City. The 727 seats about 150 passengers.

We had one passenger.

A businessman.

Normally, my announcement would begin:

“Ladies and gentlemen, from the cockpit, we’ve reached our cruising altitude of…”—followed by turning off the seatbelt sign.

That day, I picked up the microphone… and paused.

“Ladies and gentlemen” seemed a bit excessive.

So I keyed the mic and said:

“Sir… from the cockpit, we’ve reached our cruising altitude…”

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

In another chapter of my career, I flew cargo on the Douglas DC-8 out of Miami, hauling just about everything imaginable to points south—including cattle.

One flight in particular stands out.

We were transporting a load of heifers to Puerto Rico. The airplane had been transformed: plywood covering the floor, straw laid down, and aluminum tubing set up as railings to create narrow pens. A temporary cattle chute led up to the rear cargo door.

The cowboys moved with precision—fifteen 1,000-pound heifers at a time, up the ramp and into position. Each group was secured tightly with lateral rails so the animals could barely move. Load after load went in until the aircraft was full with 90 head of cattle.

The operation was so efficient that by the time they closed the cargo door, we already had engines running and were ready to taxi. We rolled straight out and departed at sunrise—the coolest part of the day. With that many animals onboard, heat was the enemy.

At 10,000 feet, I went back to check on things.

The sight was unforgettable: a three-foot-thick layer of steam hugging the ceiling, stretching the entire length of the airplane. That’s how much heat those animals were generating.

By cruise altitude, I had the temperature under control.

In Puerto Rico, another crew of cowboys was waiting.

The unloading mirrored the loading—controlled chaos. Cowboys inside the aircraft released the pens and drove the cattle toward the rear door, while others on the ground received them into a temporary corral.

I stood nearby, watching the operation.

Suddenly, one cow slipped. Her hoof caught on the edge of the ramp right in front of me. The cowboys behind her, back in the plane, didn’t see it—they kept pushing the herd forward.

Without thinking, I grabbed her trapped leg and heaved upward with everything I had.

The hoof popped free.

She bolted down the ramp.

Before I could step back—the next cow came through… leaned over… and licked me with that sandpaper wet tongue from my jaw all the way up to my temple.

Yeeaach.

Blue Skies,

Lorenzo