As an early (but not young) aviator, I am - at the moment - towing my iceberg behind a four-wheeled jalopy. To be honest - this is the internet - it’s a wood-panelled station wagon. Extra roomy. Uncomfortable to look at. And has no muscle. It has yet to take full, independent flight. In fact, we’re not sure it’s possible.
Fitting.
Up here, across the northern divide, the seasonal climate gifted me a few extra ice crystals to form an iceberg of decent proportions. Well…. that’s the assumption. As I said, the container is large. I haven’t looked inside.
Over time - and recently accelerated because of helmet fires and the natural heat domes of a GA cockpit - the jalopy is struggling, calving off chunks of ice to keep what’s left of the berg afloat. Metaphors are confused, acronyms are jumbled. In the chaos, even the stowaways, huddled in a circle facing eachother unable to look at what’s unfolding, are mistaken for a herd of proud zebras, roaming the endless plains. It’s an image conjured from foolish notions born in milliseconds of success that are mistaken for learned achievement. Instead - returning to the jalopy if I can - Its mettle (yes, that spelling) is thinning, the radiator is overheating, steam is building and forcing orifices into a secondary function as pressure relief valves.
The cycle unfolds something like this: Steam builds, an orifice blows, and a helmet fire violently ejects what were once pieces of the iceberg as volcanic ash. Jumbles of vowels and consonants that were - at some point - fully formed thoughts and words depart the icy mass, out the central gap, and spew into a microphone. They travel along chemtrails like the string between a tin can telephone. At one end, the aeronautical can in the sky. At the other, ATC.
What of the poor penguins? Some are abandoned outright in the rapid and forceful downsizing of the ice sheet. Some suffer scorched tuxedos. Some are left naked. Others are merely bones, flippers and a beak. What to do?
Maintenance. The answer is always maintenance. Model the hosts. If you can do a reno. Or breathlessly run gate-to-gate at an airport terminal to make it home on time. You are doing maintenance. Picking up each flake of spewed ash and finding a place to reattach it back onto the sheet of ice that remains. Piece by piece. The result will be a little less clean than the sheet that started you on your journey. And slightly smaller. A compressed composite of old and new. But it will be just enough to support the boney and naked penguins that can crawl back up, take a surfing stance, raise their flippers in defiance, gaze forward and prepare for the ride ahead.
What does this have to do with the podcast? I have no idea. The podcast is a forum for two hosts to bring thoughtful, informed and humorous insights to answer questions about a system built on old technology, old airplanes, and limited (and also aging) staff. But they also bring optimism (?). From the breadth of their experience, they help listeners shape a more comprehensive understanding of the rules of the NAS; thoughtfully opine on listener anecdotes of successes, failures and challenges; and sprinkle wit and (ironically —>) phonetical humour (and sometimes giggles) to break the tension between the two.
But all of the reviews are about icebergs and penguins.
It’s either a really good ploy to get you to listen to the podcast. Or to get you to pass it by. My recommendation: Find your flippers and jump on.
