If you're interested in a simulation of a flight environment, you would be much better off by buying yourself a surplus flight helmet (preferably one that doesn't fit perfectly), a sun lamp (to get your head nice and toasty), and a pair of Nomex/leather flight gloves (soak 'em with sweat/oil/hydraulic fluid for that crisp but slick feel). Put your monitor a little above coffee table height.
Get about 4-5 of those concrete slabs you see at the garden section of your local K-Mart, top'em with the thinnest cheap cushion you can find. (That's your "ejection seat".) Wipe the mask out with denatured alcohol (smells nice), and clamp a rag soaked in JP-4 (kerosene will do) on the end of the oxygen hose, and strap that puppy on 'till it leaves a ring on your face that lasts for hours. (You do this 'cuz when your face is sweaty and you`re pulling Gs, the mask will be on your chin if it isn't on TIGHT.) Turn the sun lamp on and point it at your head.
Now you're doing it like the big boys! Optional "realism" techniques:
Buy some nylon webbing (the kind you use to repair old-fashioned lawn chairs with). Cut two straps of this and wrap them between your legs TIGHTLY (that's your `chute harness).
Play when you've got a BAD hangover. (Rough night at the O Club.)
Have your wife/friend/neighbor pester you with questions out of the Owner's Manual (your pretend "Dash One") while you're trying to fly (Check Ride!)
Get up and play at 4:00 am (otherwise known as "oh-dark hundred"). Make a cheese sandwich, wrap it in waxed paper. Stick it in a shoe box with a half-pint of milk, a bruised apple, a crushed bag of Fritos, and an onion. Put in the fridge overnight, then take it out, throw out the onion, put the box under the sunlamp while you're flying, and eat when you're hungry. (Box lunch.)
With some imagination and very little cash outlay, you can do a hell of a job simulating what it's like to fly. That other shit (side consoles, switches, speakers, etc.) is strictly for show, and doesn't do anything towards giving you that "There I wuz" feeling
Overheard recently on London Information (monitoring cross-channel traffic)...
Calling: (unintelligible) D-ABCD, position XXN XXE, altitude 6500ft, requesting flight information
London: Roger D-ABCD, what is your point of departure and destination?
Calling: We left Augsburg, Germany, about 22 hours ago
London: (long pause) uh, and what is your destination?
Calling: Uh, I don't know...
London: (longer pause) uh, when and where will you be crossing the coast?
Calling: Crossing in about 3 hours somewhere between Dover and Worthing (around 70 mile of coastline)
London: (pause) D-ABCD, say again aircraft type
Calling: D-ABCD is a hot air ballon.
A true story:
British Airways flight asks for push back clearance from terminal.
Control Tower replies: "And where is the world's most experienced airline going today without filing a flight plan
................................................................Santa Claus, upon trudging out to his sleigh for his annual night freight trip around the world, was surprised to find a guy with a shotgun standing next to his rig. Santa asked him why he was there. The man replied, "I'm from the FAA, and this is an unscheduled 135 inspection. I'll ride right seat." Santa responded, "With all due respects, sir, I've been doing this flight for over 700 years -- but if you insist, well, let's go." As they both climbed into the sleigh, Santa noticed that the FAA inspector brought his shotgun along with him, placing it in his lap, with his finger on the trigger. Santa queried, "What's the shotgun for?" To which the FAA inspector grumbled, "You're going to lose two on takeoff..."
Q. Why did Santa Claus ask Rudolf to lead his sleigh team?
A. Rudolf was the only one who was IFR current.
From Pilot Magazine and entered in Bike Magazine: The article was entitled "In a hurry are we, sir?" (British Police Wit).
Two members of the Lothian and Borders traffic police were out on the Berwickshire moors with a radar gun recently, happily engaged in apprehending speeding motorists, when their equipment suddenly locked-up completely with an unexpected reading of well over 300 mph. The mystery was explained seconds later as a low flying Harrier hurtled over their heads. The boys in blue, upset at the damage to their radar gun, put in a complaint to the RAF, but were somewhat chastened when the RAF pointed out that the damage might well have been more severe. The Harrier's target-seeker had locked on to the `enemy' radar and triggered an automatic retaliatory air-to-surface missile attack. Luckily(?), the Harrier was operating unarmed.
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