A series of articles in which yet another pathetic cranky aging boomer tries to convince the world that things used to be better.
The recent record breaking snows both in the Mid-Atlantic states and in such unlikely places as Texas and Georgia stirred some memories of my past experiences with what we crewmembers used to describe as “irregular” (the Ozark term) or “non-routine” (the TWA term) operations.
Rare is the passenger who has never had a weather-generated delay, from events as innocuous as fog to as treacherous as tornados. It’s always an inconvenience, but when a major event, especially snow — the impact of which remains long after the storm has passed — strikes a hub, it can be days before order is restored.
First, there are some basic things you should understand. A crewmember’s monthly schedule is configured into “trips” or “pairings” that can consist of anywhere from one to five days (and even more with some international carriers) away from your crew domicile (the city crews are based at). Ozark had its major domicile in St. Louis along with a much smaller domicile in Chicago that closed just a few years after I joined in 1978. A one-day trip meant you reported to work and arrived back at your domicile on the same day. A two-day trip meant you reported on one day and returned home the following day, with a one-night layover somewhere else. You can figure out the rest.
So back to the weather. For the crewmember with a trip canceled before they had a chance to report, it meant that they lost that time. Once flight crews were below their monthly minimum (at Ozark this was 70 flight hours per month) they were subject to “balance,” which means crew scheduling could do anything they wanted to bring your hours back up. The very nice trips your seniority allowed you to hold all month might all be replaced with dreck, though to the schedulers’ credit this rarely happened.
Once you reported however, all bets were off. On the bright side, back in those days, we (meaning the pilots and flight attendants) had a pretty good contract that included what we called duty or trip rigs. (I know, this sounds boring but bear with me, this is important.) The duty rig guaranteed 1 hour of flight time (we were paid based on flight hours per month) for every two hours on duty. That way, if the airline decided to send you to Chicago then sit for six hours until you returned, you would earn credit for over four hours flying time instead of the two hours of actual flying time. And for every three hours and fifteen minutes you were away from domicile, you were credited with one hour of flight time. These rules, while obviously beneficial to the crews, weren’t really wasteful for the company. On the contrary it forced the airlines to schedule more efficiently.
So if you got stuck out on the road, you were still making money. The problem is, did you report and pack expecting to return home later that day? A storm and a delay away from home would mean you could be grossly under prepared for a trip that now had become a five-day stay. I learned early on to pack for at least three days, no matter how long my trip was supposed to last, at least during the winter months. And to always have my uniform coat and something warm to wear packed as well.
I was on the road on New Year’s Eve 1978-1979 when a major ice storm covered the Midwest. I had packed for our layover in Milwaukee but we spent the night in Miami instead, which of course was a better outcome than the opposite scenario would have been.
One incident stands out in my memory above all. The Jan. 30-31 1982 storm was the third-heaviest snowfall ever recorded in St. Louis. While Lambert field received only about 14 inches of snow, other locations in the metro area received close to 20.
It began on a Saturday morning with extremely heavy rain, one I remember well as I took some time before arriving for my 1 p.m. report to stop by a local community college where, thanks to the late disc jockey and jazz supporter Charlie Menees, I had the opportunity to meet and speak with legendary trumpeter Buddy Childers, who was to appear with the school’s jazz band that evening.
When I mentioned I was leaving and eventually would end up in Champaign-Urbana for the night, Buddy said, “Good luck getting there in this weather.”
Despite his trepidation, our flights that day were uneventful and we arrived in Champaign-Urbana more or less on time landing in light snow. At that time, we were staying at the University Inn, a multi storied tower clad in metal, which provided an unsettling distraction of squeaking and creaking whenever the wind blew, which in the prairie that is central Illinois, means always.
We were scheduled to depart after one, but it became obvious, mainly because of the weather in St. Louis, that chances of departure were fast diminishing. Sure enough, near the time we were due to leave the hotel we received a call from the captain and assembled in the hallway.
The captain told us that Sunday’s flights were canceled, we were free the rest of the day and night. He then asked if any of us had anything urgent that required a return to the home base (STL) ASAP. That was an easy answer for me. Single and without children, there was nothing coaxing me back home anytime soon.
There were two full crews. Since Champaign is a college town that relies on pedestrian traffic, even though the snow was falling, nothing was closed due to weather. Thanks to our generous contract, as we watched “On Golden Pond” and later dined on pizza we were “on the clock.” We were all wearing identical gray full-length wool coats and I remarked as we were walking back to the hotel that we looked like a Russian ski team after a night on the town.
The snow stopped the following day, but now, thanks to the wind, no matter how often the runways at University of Illinois-Willard Airport were plowed, the snow kept drifting back over the pavement, making operations impossible. We didn’t leave until Tuesday, when we operated a series of uneventful flights, then arrived home, tasked with digging our cars out and finding our way home. The streets were still pretty treacherous, and my response, since I had a few days off, was to drive back out to the airport the next morning and fly to Sarasota where I could wait out the cold at the home of a relative. Those were the days.
So, if you’ve been inconvenienced in the past, or even during our recent weather events, there are some things you can do to be prepared next time. ALWAYS have the essentials for staying overnight in your carry-on bag. A toothbrush or razor in a suitcase that is currently residing in a different city than you are is pretty much useless. Also, remember that your flight attendants may have left home planning on returning later that day, and he or she may be on their fifth day without a change of clothes, so cut them a bit of slack. In fact, that’s a good strategy at all times. Just like the signs posted in the London Underground during the Blitzkrieg, “Keep Calm and Carry On.”
