Not for those with a fear of flying (or, more appropriately, a fear of crashing):
http://www.consumptionjunction.com/downloadsnew/cj_40299.wmv
.
Hell, we just had a Garuda Indonesia jumbo hit the runway like that out here. We call 'em “tailstrikes”. I call 'em “shit in your pants-ers”.
That Airbus has an auto land feature, but I think the guy was trying to do it himself. Those are always scary. In fact, that’s what we refer to Airbus planes as: “Scare-bus”
T.
Hey, any landing you can walk away from, right?
Sorta prompts me to wear my Depends® next time I fly!
When I was a manager out our Detroit hub, we’d have one or two of these sorts of things a month. Plus the odd birdstrike, which would flame out the engine or otherwise cause it damage. A few times, we’d have an Airbus or a DC-9 flame out an engine and it’d have to land on one engine, but they’re made to do that, so it’s really no big deal 
Still, the Depends thing would probably be recommended for a lot of the passengers :-)) The Boeing rep got me a couple of rides on their “Vomit Comets”. These are test-bed airframes that they take up and stress to the max. Those are always fun, and someone almost always barfs from the airsickness. I’ve never done it on one of those rides, but I got a back-seat ride on an F-14 once, and the pilot got me to hurl within 7 minutes of launch :-)))
T
Did you read Rick Reilly’s Sports Illustrated column about his ride in an F-14? Truly hilarious. His call sign ended up being “Two Bags.”
Below is an article written by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. He
details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a F-14
Tomcat. If
you aren’t laughing out loud by the time you get to “Milk Duds,” your
sense
of humor is broken."Now this message is for America’s most famous athletes:
Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your
country’s most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have …
John Elway,
John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity,
let me
urge you, with the greatest sincerity…Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do .
Do Not Go!!!I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was
pumped. I was toast! I should’ve known when they told me my pilot
would be Chip
(Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in
Virginia Beach.Whatever you’re thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like,
triple it. He’s about six-feet, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair,
finger-crippling handshake – the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic
alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other
way. Fast.Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the
voice of NASA missions. (“T-minus 15 seconds and counting …”
Remember?) Chip
would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack
would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to
say, “We have a
liftoff.”Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60
million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin
Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before
the flight I asked
Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.“Bananas,” he said.
“For the potassium?” I asked.
“No,” Biff said, “because they taste about the same coming up as they do
going down.”The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my
name
sewn over the left breast. (No call sign – like Crash or Sticky or
Leadfoot . but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of
my arm, as
Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole
Kidman,
this was it.A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened
me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would “egress” me out
of the
plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked
unconscious.Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over
me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were
firing
nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another
F-14.Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride
lasted
80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell.
Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, sap rolls, loops, yanks and
banks.
We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of
10,000 feet
per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200
feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5,
which is to
say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me,
thereby
approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth
grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G’s, I was
egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through
not one airsick
bag, but two.Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as
we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing
target and
the G’s were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of
consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw
down.I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or
Norman
making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like
Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn’t go up
there
again for Derek Jeter’s black book, but I’m glad Biff does every day,
and for less
a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he
and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he’d send it on
a
patch for my flight suit.What is it? I asked.
“Two Bags.”
I can definitely relate. I got catapulted off from a carrier, and I almost passed out right there. They teach you how to grunt from way down in your abdomen, and the G-suit helps to keep the blood from pooling down in your legs.
But there’s nothing they can do about your inner ear, that’s for sure
Barfing Maniac Tony
Here’s an interesting photo of contrails over the South East US.
A buddy used to live in Hong Kong and for fun they used to watch the 747’s trying to land at Kai Tak airport. 
Ouch!!!
The last turn into Kai Tak was a B@#ch! This is why I sat out all those business trips to Hong Kong.
I’ve been into that airport a few times. That turn was suitable for fighter jets only Thank God it’s a thing of the past now.
Tony
Any of you read “Ask the Pilot” on www.salon.com? Some interesting stories and pictures there.
I avoid most of the articles on salon.com (even though I am left of centre, they are mostly too far left for me) but logon once a week to check the pilot (under the tech section). If you sit through the 30 second ad you can read salon for free.
I jumpseat on a lot of our flights, so I see far too many of their foibles as it is Plus, I spent a 3 year tour out at the old Top Gun base at NAS Miramar, and quite a few nights over at the O Club, watching 'em in action :-))
Tony.