Position: Over KSTL (St. Louis)
Altitude: 34,000 feetEquipment: A320 V-2500 A-5 Pax-on-board: 150Mach #: Point Seven Eight
Airborne... Over KSTL
Night conditions have rolled over us from the east. The sky is exceptionally clear tonight. Thirty-four thousand feet below us... St. Louis glowing in the dark. To my left, Scorpius's tail, embedded in the Milky Way, is dragging billions of stars west. It is an awesome sight!
My co-pilot is, like me, a NASA geek and has reminded me the ISS will rise northwest of Omaha as we fly overhead. I think about that a moment and realize that we might see it a second time... About 92 minutes per orbit.
No warp gate...
The winds are not cooperating tonight. Our best groundspeed will be about 430 knots (494 mph). We will not pass through the warp gate tonight. Does not the god of speed know who is captain of this ship tonight?
Fi-Fi nav is forecasting an on-time arrival; captain Dave nav says eleven minutes early. We will split the difference; five minutes early, I think.
Rule-of-thumb #31: Never tell the pax you are going to be early unless you are absolutely sure... Too many things can slow you down. There are time and distance aficionados (like me) in the back with their vintage Omega FlightMaster watches set to exact Naval observatory time. I would hate to be the source of an incorrect ETA.
Over KOMA...
Absolutely smooth flight conditions; wind on our nose at 60 knots.
Both of us are looking for the rise of the ISS. I have at least twenty-five years more wear and tear on my eyes than the co-pilot; it will be tough to see it first. No matter, I am scanning the northwest horizon in small segments watching for a moving star. It is supposed to rise at fifty-five after the hour.
Flight-deck lighting is reduced to minimum, electric seat all the way forward with head, shoulders, and folded arms on the top of the instrument panel. It is one of my favorite places at night. The heat from the thick Plexiglas feels good. And it is a good place to star gaze.
The Omaha airport slides beneath our nose...
Movement...
I sense movement on the horizon... Look one degree right or left. Yes, a bright star rising. I quickly call it, I've got it; one-thirty low. The co-pilot sees it and confirms. I am feeling smug; still have good vision for my age.
The ISS rises in the northwest and becomes very bright as it moves toward Earth's shadow directly above us. We strain to keep it in sight as it enters the shadow and disappears in our three o'clock high. OK, that was cool. I remind the co-pilot that we might be able to see it again in about 90 minutes.
Email alert light flashing...
The flashing yellow light is bright, reflecting off the walls of our plasticized digital cocoon... Mother is calling. I finger the seat's reverse toggle switch and move backwards to the real world. A couple button pushes and I am looking at a three page message from dispatch on the captain's LCD display; PRINT button pushed and the mini-printer spits it out.
Geezer glasses ON; reading light to bright. Uh-oh... Storms ahead over Wyoming. Big ones... Tops above 45,000 feet. Suggested re-route to follow. I'll bet the DC-6 boys would have given their left arm for this technology... Well, probably the flight engineers left arm.
Less than a minute later another message... Re-route. I rip it out of the mini-printer; look at it for a second... One of the advantages of being an old pilot is the ability to do quick fuel calculations. Nothing more important than fuel in my business.
Looking good for the re-route; I ask the co-pilot to get permission from our ATC controller. Permission granted... I enter the new data in the flight management computers and ask the co-pilot to check it for middle-aged mayhem before I push ENTER... Fi-Fi asks, are you sure? YES...
The right wing lowers and we change course high over the world's bread basket.
North of KBOI... 36,000 feet
Smooth flight conditions prevail and the ISS should rise at anytime. It has been 90 minutes since the last sighting. Ahead of us the night sky remains clear. Thanks to dispatch, we are well north of the nasty weather.
There! Eleven o'clock low... The co-pilot sees it first. The ISS is rising again and is very bright, probably an apparent magnitude of minus one. Rising, it gets brighter until it disappears in the shadow, this time at nine o'clock high.
NASA geek heaven tonight!
It is good karma, I think... Feeling reasonably confident about our ETA, I break rule #31 and make an announcement to the pax that rubber will be on concrete at sixteen minutes after the next hour... Seven minutes early.In my minds eye, I can see the time geeks rotating their bezels.
Life on the Line continues...
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