Wow, I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. It's even more unfathomable that I've been here at school for two months already. Things have been professing well, but besides flying, there hasn't been a whole lot of relevant news to report. That's not to say there hasn't been ANYTHING to report. First off, I've completed both my Commercial and Multi-Engine ground school courses. Both were extremely interesting and I enjoyed both. More importantly, I passed my FAA Commercial Knowledge Exam with a 91%. To say I was happy about that would be an understatement.
I've also transitioned into the PA28R-201 Arrow, a more complex and faster aircraft. This stage of the training added a retractable landing gear and a constant speed propellor - which is like a manual transmission for airplanes. The difference in feel, though, compared to the Cadet is huge. The extra speed adds a positive responsiveness to the aircraft, which makes it easier to control. It's heavier, and therefore more stable in windy or turbulent conditions. And the extra levers and switches are quite fun to play with, but add other variables to the equation and the risk of a gear-up landing. It's fun.
What I thought I'd do now is share a story of note from my time in the Arrow. My flying has certainly progressed to a level of proficiency I haven't known before, and my ability to fly like a professional strengthens every day:
If you've ever listened to air traffic control communications on the radio, you'll notice there's a certain tone the controllers reserve for the airline pilots and one for the general aviation guys. The latter is a formal, stern tone with clear, methodical instructions, and little in the way of any personality behind thus voice. The former is a bit different, though. With the professional pilots, there's a certain lightness to the faceless voice over the radio, an informal exchange between two professionals, working together, as opposed to one working for the other.
Controllers take their jobs very seriously. The amount of responsibility they have is immense, and the mental capacity to juggle thousands of airplanes, per day, all moving in different directions and speeds is admirable. When you throw a student pilot into that mix (who can often be unpredictable or unintelligible if their cradle language is other than English) the tenseness in their voice noticeably increases.
I was on a solo flight one beautiful evening. The sun was getting low in the sky, and I was practicing maneuvers for my upcoming commercial practical test. I timed it, so I would have about 30 minutes to get a few touch-and-gos in before I had to return the aircraft. There was no one in the pattern when I arrived back to Vero Beach so the radio was mostly silent except when I was cleared to land. As to be expected, the controllers, not knowing me, spoke in clear, formal tones, making sure I understood what they wanted to do. After my second time around the pattern, a few other training aircraft began to filter in, and the controllers had to start giving me special instructions to work around them. I responded as I normally would, calling traffic in sight, and keeping my messages short and to the point.
Then, something interesting happened. I'd hear the controller give the other students an instruction, in that certain tone of voice, and then give me an instruction, but almost in a tone that said "I don't need to worry about you." I did another two or three landings, and on my final landing the controller, instead of giving me specific taxi instructions, like everyone else, simply said "Monitor ground [control] with me, taxi to the ramp." I repeated the instructions back, as I always do, and added, "see ya" to the end, to which he responded "have a good one, sir."
It was hard to wipe the smile off my face on the way into the ramp, because I knew that the controller didn't just consider me another pilot, but as a peer - one professional to another.