After being in Equestria for so long, the only negative thing that I have to say about it is that it is mostly flyover country. You have the wonderful capital Canterlot, and a few major cities, but by and large it’s just undeveloped countryside. That isn’t to say that undeveloped countryside isn’t pretty, just that once you’ve seen twenty majestic waterfalls you’ve seen them all.
Currently, I was flying a holding pattern over Cloudsdale., more specifically Cloudsdale’s sole runway. The pegasi and I didn’t really get along (one too many ‘bird’ strikes wasn’t conducive for a good relationship), but we held an uneasy sort of peace: they didn’t violate my airspace and I didn’t dump fuel on them when I was pissy.
Finally the radio chimed and the somewhat hoarse voice of the controller spoke, giving me permission to land on runway 01 left. I decided to forgo my usual shenanigans for today. The controller was probably having a bad day because of her cold, and if I pissed in her cheerios she’d keep me holding on the runway as revenge. ATC were little ground pounders in their tower, but they still held ultimate power.
I radio’ed back, telling her that I was on final approach and ready to land. Taking care to watch my airspeed, I pulled into a gentle banking turn. Five short minutes later, I was lined up with the runway, the only remaining step to dump speed. With a moment’s focus, the flaps and slats deployed, giving me more lift at lower speeds, but also draining airspeed. The handling changed, but experienced as I was, I was able to easily compensate.
My goal was to for my wheels to touch the runway right in the center in the landing target. I continued to descend, keeping the runway in my sights. I’d practiced takeoff and landing so many times that it was mostly a reflex at this point, but that didn’t mean I could be slack in my attention. Complacency led to accidents after all.
The altimeter beeped, then started calling out my altitude relative to the runway in a flat emotionless voice. It had been a bit of work, but I had modified it so that it saw the clouds as land. Made landing on a floating runway much easier.
The moment all three sets of my wheels touched asphalt, I sprang into action. All my engines were throttled down to flight idle as the thrust reversers deployed, pushing air forward. But I wasn’t done yet.
The spoilers on both wing deployed, pushing up into the wind flowing over the wing and disrupting it. Their airflow disrupted, the wings stopped generating lift and more weight settled onto my undercarriage, increasing the effectiveness of my brakes. Still though, it took a good quarter of the runway to come to a complete stop: bringing 50 tons of of metal and to a halt wasn’t easy.
Gingerly, I spooled up the engines slightly then slowly moved off the main runway and onto one of the smaller taxiways. It had been a long day, and all I wanted to do was drop my cargo off, get the loadmaster to sign off, and collect my pay.
I waited for the ground crew to come out .
It was times like this, when excitement turned to boredom, that I reflected on the unique circumstances that brought me to the strange strange little world. I have no hands, but I’ve given up on sctreaming long long ago.
~~~~~
It was the third day of the FlighSim-Con and I was bone tired. I was dressed in my Flight Simulator Male Co-Pilot #3 costume, which was pretty snazzy if I do say so myself. I had been having a blast the past two days, wandering amongst the booths that had been setup.
I had done so many awesome things. Day one I had nearly fan-gasmed in the vendor’s hall. Boeing had really blown everyone else out of the water when they showed up with a full size 737 trainer. I wasted most my day waiting in line, but it was totally worth it. It remained my favorite thing about the convention.
Day 2 had been an experience in itself. I
Day 3 had started well, but kinda slowed down. Most of the vendors and salesmen were either packing up their booths or had already done so. I wandered the emptying halls looking for something interesting to do. All I could see were booths halfway torn down or the empty spots where they had been. Still though, I persevered. I paid for a 3 day pass, and by god I was going to get my money’s worth.
But there had been one booth that I hadn’t bothered to visit. Sitting over in the corner, away from all the other tables, was a fat, dumpy man wearing a heavily faded and stained pilot’s uniform. The banner above his head proclaimed “VATSIM - The international online flying network!”. I had my doubts. VATSIM was the premier enthusiast's club for flight simmers. They matched pilots flying for virtual airlines with Air Traffic Controllers who specific regions. They were invitation only, and had strict requirements to get in. From what my friends had told me, it was worth every penny.
Somewhat hesitantly, I approached the strange little booth. I wasn’t scared of the man, it was just that this man fit every con stereotype, and I didn’t want him to try and lick me or something. I had met some really nice people during cons, but also some very oddball characters. This guy looked like someone who’d corner you somewhere in the food court and talk your head off about ‘Obummer’ and ‘FEMA death camps’. Entertaining, and about as dangerous as a wet blanket.
As soon as I stopped in front of the table, his doughy face lit up with excitement. I didn’t like the way his eyes traveled the length of my body, appraising me like I was a cut of meat at the grocery store. Maybe this was how all girls I leered at during high school felt. But still I continued. Social etiquette said so.
I have no hands. And I must scream.
