Santa's Check Ride

[paramedicmike]

I heard this from one of the guys I used to work with. So I can't take credit for it.

Santa Claus, like all pilots, gets regular visits from the Federal Aviation Administration, and it was shortly before Christmas when the FAA examiner arrived.

In preparation, Santa had the elves wash the sled and bathe all the reindeer. Santa got his logbook out and made sure all his paperwork was in order.

The examiner walked slowly around the sled. He checked the reindeer harnesses, the landing gear, and Rudolf's nose. He painstakingly reviewed Santa's weight and balance calculations for sled's enormous payload.

Finally, they were ready for the checkride. Santa got in and fastened his seatbelt and shoulder harness and checked the compass. Then the examiner hopped in carrying, to Santa's surprise, a taser.

"What's that for?" asked Santa incredulously.

The examiner winked and said, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're gonna lose an engine on takeoff."

[Arctickat]

Bwaaaa Haaaaa Haaaaa Haaaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[Kiwiology]

They forget to mention that Santa would have had his FAA airman medical certification revoked many years ago; the old bastard more than likely would by now have severe ischaemic heart disease with 90% occulsion of the LAD, diabetes, gout, hypercholesterolaemia, severe stage 3 hypertension requiring 2 different diuretics, an ACE inhibitor and long acting oral nitrates, arthritis, couple of fused vertebrae from carrying all those presents, some form of cancer and a couple other things ....

[Arctickat]

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS -- AVIATION STYLE

Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,

Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.

The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,

In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,

With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.

I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,

And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,

I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.

A voice clearly heard over static and snow,

Called for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his transmission so lively and quick,

I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".

I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,

The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,

"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."

And what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,

As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:

"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!

On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,

They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,

The message they left was both urgent and dour:

"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,

Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."

He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh

And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho- ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,

I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.

His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost

And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,

And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.

His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,

His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,

And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low- lead."

He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,

I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,

And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.

He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,

Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,

These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.

He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,

Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,

He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.

"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,

Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,

"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."

Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed through the night,

"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

[Kiwiology]

Recently overheard in the skies ...

"Approach good evening it's Citation five fox juilet, approaching KELLY, through twelve for eight, two forty knots assigned, we have kilo"

"Five foxtrot juilet Indianapolis Approach good evening, leave KELLY heading three six zero vectors two three left, stop your descent at ten thousand, you are seven in trail of will be restricted above a heavy Sleigh that has priority so you can resume normal speed er, speed your discretion, lima is just becoming current, no significant change, altimeter now three zero zero five"

"Understood, wilco, fox juilet .... WHAT THE F##K BRO STUPID MOTHER F##KING SLEIGH SANTA THE OLD BASTARD HOW THE F##K DOES HE GET PRIORITY OVER US, RESTRICTED ABOVE HIM GO F##K HIMSELF, NO SIGNIFICANT CHANGE MY ASS, IMA BE LATE IN AND THE AIRPORT SHUTTLE TO MY CHEAP BARGAIN BASEMENT CREW MOTEL ON THE GHETTO EAST SIDE PROBABLY ALREADY F##KING LEFT, F##KING OLD C##T WHO THE F##K HE THINK HE IS .... oh is this thing still on, my bad"

Situational awareness people, situational awareness

[Richard B the EMT]

As long as NORAD continues to follow Santa's flights...<3

[Arctickat]

As long as NORAD continues to follow Santa's flights...<3

To think that started over 50 years ago at the height of the cold war when the local paper published the wrong number for kids to call Santa and they ended up calling the "hotline" for NORAD's (CONAD at the time) Commander in Chief by mistake. He was a good man to play along, thanks Col. Shoup.

[Richard B the EMT]

Somebody check this for accuracy, but was it CONELRAD, CONNELRAD, or CONAD? I forget the accronyms.

[Arctickat]

You dare doubt me?

Continental Air Defense Command (CONAD)

[Richard B the EMT]

I don't dare doubt you. I doubt ME! That's why I asked.