pilots and control towers

[Casper]

Courtesy of Proud Pops:

Actual exchanges... between pilots and control towers...

Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!"

Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital watches!"

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Tower: "TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees."

TWA 2341: " Center, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?"

Tower: "Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

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From an unknown aircraft waiting in a very long takeoff queue: "I'm f...ing bored!"

Ground Traffic Control: "Last aircraft transmitting, identify yourself immediately!"

Unknown aircraft: "I said I was f...ing bored, not f...ing stupid!"

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O'Hare Approach Control to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a Fokker, one o'clock, three miles, Eastbound."

United 329: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this... I've got the little Fokker in sight."

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A student became lost during a solo cross-country flight. While attempting to locate the aircraft on radar, ATC asked, "What was your last known position?"

Student: "When I was number one for takeoff."

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A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out after touching down.

San Jose Tower Noted: "American 751, make a hard right turn at the end of the runway, if you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadeloupe exit off Highway 101, make a right at the lights and return to the airport."

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A Pan Am 727 flight, waiting for start clearance in Munich, overheard the following: Lufthansa (in German): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"

Ground (in English): "If you want an answer you must speak in English."

Lufthansa (in English): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in Germany. Why must I speak English?"

Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful British accent): "Because you lost the bloody war!"

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Tower: "Eastern 702, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on frequency 124.7"

Eastern 702: "Tower, Eastern 702 switching to Departure. By the way, after we lifted off we saw some kind of dead animal on the far end of the runway."

Tower: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff behind Eastern 702, contact Departure on frequency 124.7. Did you copy that report from Eastern 702?"

BR Continental 635: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff, roger; and yes, we copied Eastern... we've already notified our caterers."

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One day the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of the active runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said, "What a cute little plane. Did you make it all by yourself?"

The Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a real zinger: "I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like yours and I'll have enough parts for another one."

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The German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a short-tempered lot. They not only expect one to know one's gate parking location, but how to get there without any assistance from them. So it was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the following exchange between Frankfurt ground control and a British Airways 747, call sign Speedbird 206.

Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206! clear of active runway."

Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven."

The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop. Ground: "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"

Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now."

Ground (with quite arrogant impatience): "Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"

Speedbird 206 (coolly): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark, -- I was dropping things and didn't land."

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While taxiing at London's Gatwick Airport, the crew of a US Air flight departing for Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose with a United 727. An irate female ground controller lashed out at the US Air crew, screaming: "US Air 2771, where the hell are you going? I told you to turn right onto Charlie taxiway! You turned right on Delta! Stop right there. I know it's difficult for you to tell the difference between C and D, but get it right!"

Continuing her rage to the embarrassed crew, she was now shouting hysterically: "God! Now you've screwed everything up! It'll take forever to sort this out! You stay right there and don't move till I tell you to! You can expect progressive taxi instructions in about half an hour, and I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you! You got that, US Air 2771?"

"Yes, ma'am," the humbled crew responded.

Naturally, the ground control communications frequency fell terribly silent after the verbal bashing of US Air 2771. Nobody wanted to chance engaging the irate ground controller in her current state of mind. Tension in every cockpit around Gatwick was definitely running high. Just then an unknown pilot broke the silence and keyed his microphone, asking:

"Ma'am, ..... Was I married to you once?"

[flounder]

Holy back to the future Satan.. I have had those in my email for 6 years now.... then again.. pilots do tend to find them more amusing then the average person and they tend to get sent to pilots first which is probably why I have had them for so long..

I still laugh everytime I read them...

[yotaman88210]

These are Great! Good shit!

[Casper]

Holy back to the future Satan.. I have had those in my email for 6 years now.... then again.. pilots do tend to find them more amusing then the average person and they tend to get sent to pilots first which is probably why I have had them for so long..

I still laugh everytime I read them...

Holy go back to sleep flounder.

[flounder]

Holy go back to sleep flounder.

You still love me....

[Casper]

I'd forgotten about these.

[chevysoldier]

Who's the gravedigger now?

Those are hilarious!!!

[e-flores]

great way to trow away 10 minutes of my workday!

And chevy this was worth digging for.

[magley64]

i prefer mechanics to pilots...

After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by Qantas' pilots and the solutions recorded by maintenance engineers. By the way, Qantas is the only major airline that has never had an accident.

(P= The problem logged by the pilot.)

(S= The solution and action taken by mechanics.)

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.

S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.

S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit.

S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield.

S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.

S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.

S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.

S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.

S: That's what they're for.

P: IFF inoperative.

S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.

S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.

S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.

S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.

S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.

S: Cat installed.

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.

S: Took hammer away from midget.

[jblosser]

...

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.

S: Took hammer away from midget.

Nope, not going there. Not feeling like a today.

[ninjascott]

I have not seen neither in the past pilot nor mechanic but both were good for a chuckle. I have some pretty funny stories of flying of my own that I may share after the investigation is complete

['03VstarSH]

"A military pilot called for a priority landing because his single-engine jet fighter was running "a bit peaked." Air Traffic Control told the fighter pilot that he was number two, behind a B-52 that had one engine shut down. "Ah," the fighter pilot remarked, "The dreaded seven-engine approach."

"An SR-71 and crew were flying over Southern California when a bug smasher came on the airwaves in a dorky voice:

Cessna 152: Ground Control, What's my airspeed?

Ground Control: 100 at FL 100.

A few moments later a cocky voice came on:

Mooney M20: Ground Control, What's MY airspeed?

Ground Control: 240 at FL 240.

By this time the SR pilot was seething, but since communications were the duty of his new co-pilot, he remained silent. A few moments of radio silence passed, and in the calmest voice imaginable the co-pilot keyed in:

SR-71: Ground Control, What's our airspeed?

Ground Control: 1875 at FL 800.

There were no more speed checks called in that afternoon, and the pilot knew that he had a cool partner in the back seat."

"My friend says he was training an ATC rookie - I think he said it was out at Nellis AFB.

Anyway, one day this kid takes a call from an aircraft requesting clearance to FL 800 (80,000 feet)...

Rookie (dripping with sarcasm): "Okay, hotshot -- if you think you can take her that high, GO FOR IT!!"

Pilot of the SR-71 on the other end of the radio: "Roger Control; now DESCENDING from 100,000 feet to FL 800....""

[c7fx]

I had that same story lol

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed.

Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."

Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "HoustonCenterVoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that... and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed.

"Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed."

Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren.

Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios.

"Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check."

Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it -- ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.

And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion:

"Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done -- in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now.

I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet.

Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke:

"Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?"

There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an everyday request:

"Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."

I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice:

"Ah, Center, much thanks. We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A. came back with,

"Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work.

We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

Edited October 5, 2010 by c7fx

[flounder]

"A military pilot called for a priority landing because his single-engine jet fighter was running "a bit peaked." Air Traffic Control told the fighter pilot that he was number two' date=' behind a B-52 that had one engine shut down. "Ah," the fighter pilot remarked, "The dreaded seven-engine approach."

"An SR-71 and crew were flying over Southern California when a bug smasher came on the airwaves in a dorky voice:

Cessna 152: Ground Control, What's my airspeed?

Ground Control: 100 at FL 100.

A few moments later a cocky voice came on:

Mooney M20: Ground Control, What's MY airspeed?

Ground Control: 240 at FL 240.

By this time the SR pilot was seething, but since communications were the duty of his new co-pilot, he remained silent. A few moments of radio silence passed, and in the calmest voice imaginable the co-pilot keyed in:

SR-71: Ground Control, What's our airspeed?

Ground Control: 1875 at FL 800.

There were no more speed checks called in that afternoon, and the pilot knew that he had a cool partner in the back seat."

"My friend says he was training an ATC rookie - I think he said it was out at Nellis AFB.

Anyway, one day this kid takes a call from an aircraft requesting clearance to FL 800 (80,000 feet)...

Rookie (dripping with sarcasm): "Okay, hotshot -- if you think you can take her that high, GO FOR IT!!"

Pilot of the SR-71 on the other end of the radio: "Roger Control; now DESCENDING from 100,000 feet to FL 800....""[/quote']

You ruined this one by not posting the entire thing.

[gen3flygirl]

I am pretty sure I have said Sex rather and six over the radio, I have also gotten my ass chewed out by the chief flight instructor for saying shit over the radio as well

[flounder]

I am pretty sure I have said Sex rather and six over the radio, I have also gotten my ass chewed out by the chief flight instructor for saying shit over the radio as well

Ive screwed up on the radio a few times myself. I remember being nervous one time and actually forgot to let go of the mic and just kept talking. Told ATC sorry and just started laughing at which point they did too.

Also told ATC. "Uhhh, yeah I got nothing" hahaha

['03VstarSH]

You ruined this one by not posting the entire thing.

My bad.

[chevysoldier]

I am pretty sure I have said Sex rather and six over the radio, I have also gotten my ass chewed out by the chief flight instructor for saying shit over the radio as well

I never talked over the radio in a plane before, done just a little flying in a Cessna though. But I have two military comms stories.

There was a soldier out in the desert in Cali. higher wanted her loaction so over the radio you hear "Roger, I am under the moon riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight now!"

The other was a guy that kept saying "fuck" every other word. I can't remember the exact transmission but it was funny. "uhhh fuckin.....fuck.......fucking..."

Edited October 5, 2010 by chevysoldier

[Disclaimer]

Blackbird stories FTW.

The Thrill of Flying the SR-71 Blackbird

But, you pilots and wannabes are living in the past... the new hip thing is one of these: http://www.martinjetpack.com/

http://www.ohio-riders.com/showthread.php?t=57569

[Casper]

Blackbird stories FTW.

The Thrill of Flying the SR-71 Blackbird

But, you pilots and wannabes are living in the past... the new hip thing is one of these: http://www.martinjetpack.com/

http://www.ohio-riders.com/showthread.php?t=57569

http://www.ohio-riders.com/showthread.php?t=2751

Repost. Bam. Finally, I got you!

[Disclaimer]

:tiphat: to you sir.

I thought it only counted it you started a thread for a repost though?

Edited October 5, 2010 by JRMMiii

[Disclaimer]

[chevysoldier]

Iranian Air Defense Site: 'Unknown aircraft you are in Iranian airspace. Identify yourself.'

Aircraft: 'This is a United States aircraft. I am in Iraqi airspace.'

Air Defense Site: 'You are in Iranian airspace. If you do not depart our airspace we will launch interceptor aircraft!'

Aircraft: 'This is a United States Marine Corps FA-18 fighter. Send 'em up, I'll wait!'

Air Defense Site: ( .... total silence)

[Strictly Street]

Another funny:

ACTUAL transcript of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995. This radio conversation was released by the Chief of Naval Operations on 10-10-95.

Americans: "Please divert your course <NOBR>15 degrees</NOBR> to the North to avoid a collision."

Canadians: "Recommend you divert YOUR course <NOBR>15 degrees</NOBR> to the South to avoid a collision."

Americans: "This is the captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course."

Canadians: "No, I say again, you divert YOUR course."

Americans: "THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES' ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH. THAT'S ONE-FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP."

Canadians: "This is a lighthouse. Your call."

[chevysoldier]

Another funny:

ACTUAL transcript of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995. This radio conversation was released by the Chief of Naval Operations on 10-10-95.

Americans: "Please divert your course <NOBR>15 degrees</NOBR> to the North to avoid a collision."

Canadians: "Recommend you divert YOUR course <NOBR>15 degrees</NOBR> to the South to avoid a collision."

Americans: "This is the captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course."

Canadians: "No, I say again, you divert YOUR course."

Americans: "THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES' ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH. THAT'S ONE-FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP."

Canadians: "This is a lighthouse. Your call."

Not sure if it's real or not.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Knu14TlvCQE