I wish I could stop writing about my misadventures with planes, trains, and automobiles. For me, they could be hair-raising, heart-pounding, gut-churning, exciting, frustrating, irritating, or even interesting, depending how I look at them. But for the reader, they are ultimately pretty boring.
I said I wish I could stop writing about my misadventures with planes, trains, and automobiles, because here is a pretty good one.
How Olympics Became My Preferred Airline
After I saw my parents off at Athens airport, I waited for my 3:30 flight (Sunday, May 9) on EgyptAir to Cairo, which would connect with a Saudia flight to Riyadh. It got me worried that nobody was at the check-in counter by 2:30. Then I found out that the flight had been canceled. I suppose that I should have reconfirmed. It’s not like I haven’t had similar experiences before. I can’t keep track of how many times Ed and I reconfirmed our reservation on VASP to Buenos Aires, because they kept changing flight numbers and flight times.
I was surprisingly unperturbed by the bad news. No curse words came out of my mouth or even across my mind. I suppose that when you don’t expect much, you don’t get disappointed by much. I visited the EgyptAir office in the basement. The guy checked my reservation and noted that I had not confirmed my flights so the reservation was canceled. I reminded him that the problem was not my reservation being canceled, but his whole flight. He said the flight was canceled about ten days ago probably for operational reasons because there were two flights going to Cairo in the same day. What great planning for an airline! I booked my tickets mid-April. They couldn’t figure out whether they’d fly a route four weeks ahead of the flight date. He put me on MS780 departing at 8:25 p.m. I went to Olympics, the issuing airline, to have my Saudia leg endorsed so that I could be put on a 4:00 p.m. EgyptAir flight the next day to Riyadh. I asked about hotel. He did not hesitate to offer me a voucher, which he issued me later at check-in. By the time I saw him yet again as I entered the waiting area for the transport bus, he did not need to see my passport.
It was eight long hours of waiting in the airport. One could read the history and culture sections LP Greece only that many times. I learned to come to terms with the smokers.
But my adventure with EgyptAir had not even started yet.
The EgyptAir Captain Threatened Me with Police
In half of the waiting area sat quietly the somber-looking Egyptians. In the other half, a group of rowdy and merry-making Greek tourists in vibrant colors and spirits. Their high spirits were merely put on temporarily hold during takeoff. Low murmurs could be heard when the plane swung fast onto the runway and accelerated without skipping a beat, but they were quickly forgotten. Once the seat belt lights went off, a chorus of click, click, clicks sounded. The high spirits came back in full force.
The high spirits were infectious. Soon the head attendant was happily socializing with the Athenians. "Are you sisters?" he asked the three women seated behind me on the other side of the aisle. No, they were not. He said something like konijiwa to me at one point, to which I did not care a reply.
Although I had a business class ticket, I was put in the second row of coach, which was behind two rows of business seats. The great commotion was behind me but the traffic back and forth along the aisle had to pass me. And traffic there was. The head attendant invited selected Athenians to visit the cockpit. One girl would go up and come back, only to be followed by someone else. They went up excited, and came back with twinkles in their eyes, bespeaking of the wonders they had seen. They talked excitedly among themselves and loud laughter echoed.
I had been on a VASP night flight where the passengers went to the cockpit before takeoff to have flash photography taken with the pilot, but the plane was still on the ground in that case. I had read about one incident of a group of high school kids on a chaperoned spring break flight. It got so out of hand that a wet T-shirt contest was held and the girls were paraded in front the pilots to be judged. The pilots were later disciplined, but that was in the U.S.
It may not be entirely against regulations to have passengers in the cockpit in some countries. But the festive and chaotic scene in the cabin, the smirk on the head attendant’s face, and the throng of people going up to the cockpit were simply too much. For all I care, they can all be frequent flyers in the mile-high club, but I wasn’t going to sit there and take it on my flight.
I thought it over and finally decided to bring it up. I went up to the head attendant whom I had thought to be the co-pilot at first. I expressed my concern for the safety, but his response was essentially that he had nothing to do with it and could do nothing about it. However, I may speak with the pilot. Fine. He opened the cockpit door and spoke to the pilot.
There they were. Two beautiful Athenian women sitting in the backseats in the cockpit, smoking cigarettes, and chatting with the pilot. I have to admit that I had noticed these two before - slim figures, chiseled classical features. One had very nice cleavage and was dressed in a form fitting black tee with a low neckline. The other had such a deep tan, she looked like skin cancers waiting to happen.
I hate to spoil the fun for them. … No, I don’t. I shook hands with the captain. I said to him deliberately and clearly, enunciating each word, "I see that you have a lot of people come up here. I am sure the plane is on auto-pilot right now. I am a pilot myself. I think what is going on here compromises the safety of this aircraft. This is your airplane and I am not telling you how to fly your airplane, but I will have a decision to make whether I will ever fly EgyptAir again."
I am sure he didn’t see this coming. He’s probably more used to people who were all too happy and excited to see the cockpit. He didn’t take it very well, and I wouldn’t expect him to. "You say you are a pilot. Do you have any identification?"
"No, I do not."
"What airline do you fly?"
For a moment I was a little confused. I was flying EgyptAir, and said so. Then I realized that he had thought that I flied for airlines. I told him that I did not fly for commercial airlines and that I was a private pilot. He seemed to be quite hung up on this identification thing.
"What is your name?"
"Terrence Ho. Doctor Terrence Ho." Well, if there could be any situation, other than making a restaurant reservation, where mentioning the title is called for, this would be it.
"This is my airplane and I fly it in any way I like. These are my Athenian friends."
"Yes. I just want to express my concern about the safety of this aircraft."
"This plane will land safely." I wonder if in a way he had taken my criticism seriously for otherwise there would no need to assure me that the plane was safe.
Moments after I returned to my seat. The pilot came and motioned me to speak with him. We went to the area just outside of the cockpit. He asked the stewardess to leave but the head attendant was there. He said that I had claimed to be a pilot. I interrupted him, "No, not as a pilot, but as a passenger."
He stopped me, "No, no. You claim to be a pilot, but you don’t have any identification. When we land, there will be police waiting."
To that, I simply shrugged, "Okay."
What was odd was that he then said, "You can come see the landing."
"No." I shook my head appalled, and went back to my seat.
It soon sank in that the captain had just threatened me with police! Oh, well, comes what may.
I didn’t understand how claiming to be a pilot but having no identification could warrant police action. It’s like claiming to be a driver and not being able to produce a driver’s license. The more I thought about it, the more ludicrous it sounded. It would be ludicrous for him to radio ahead to have the police ready. What’s he gonna say? Someone just claimed to be a pilot, arrest him?
I wonder if telling him that I am a pilot helped or hurt. There is no question that he had far more experience. Telling him that I was a private pilot could have opened the door for him to pull rank on me since he probably had the highest level of certification while I had the lowest. I would have had little defense if he lectured me on procedures and told me that it’s well within protocol to have passengers in the cockpit at the pilot’s discretion during cruise. I suspect that he knew what he was doing was highly suspect. As I thought about it more later, I came to think that being a pilot gave me much more credibility. If I were just a passenger, he could have told to go back and sit down. Who was I to tell him how to fly an airplane?
He may have taken it to be that I questioned his skills. Perhaps that was why he assured me that we would land safely and offered to let me see the landing. I wasn’t questioning his skills but his attitude. Planes have crashed for the stupidest reasons. An Aeroflot crashed because the pilot let his son play with the controls. An Avianca fell out of holding pattern in New York because it ran out of fuel. If you had seen the Egyptians drive, you would be gravely concerned that their pilots came out of the same pool with the same attitudes.
As I filled out my landing card, my hand was shaking a little. It wasn’t from the fear of the Egyptian police. They’ve got nothing on me. I want my call to the embassy. I felt a little assured, perhaps foolhardily, that behind the blue covered passport is a promise - a promise that America takes care of her own. I hold no grand illusions. I am sure if the Saudis are bent on chopping off my hand, there’d be little the U.S. government can or will do. (On the other hand, Clinton did get the Singaporeans to reduce the sentence on Michael Fay by a whopping two canes from six to four.) But the United States, more than any other country, is willing, able, and ready to defend its citizens. I imagined the headlines in the newspapers if I actually landed in a Cairo jail for what I did. If the EgyptAir captain had an iota of intelligence, his threat would have to be empty.
I was a little shaken rather because I couldn’t believe I did what I did. I couldn’t figure out where I found the galls. I must have become really opinionated and full of myself nowadays. I am right and he is wrong. And I wasn’t afraid to tell him that. Pulling this sort of stunts in this part of the world? I must have become really stupid. Man, I am getting old.
Upon touchdown, people clapped. Sure, if they see flying a jet as a game of Russian roulette and actively participate to lower their odds of winning, when they end up on the ground somewhat not dead, they should naturally be quite happy about their fortune. I think the two beautiful Athenian women sat through the landing.
Terrence
Riyadh
Friday, May 14, 1999