she was ready to put this trip behind her. She had kids to get back to, a dead ex-husbandâs personal effects to sort through, and she was more than a little worried about Dixie. The hollow sound in her friendâs voice had alarmed her, and she knew there was more to the injured-first-officer story than she had heard so far. She sincerely hoped Dixiewasnât homicidal. And to add to her worries, Nikkiâs first officer, Bob Riddle, was driving her nuts.
Bob was one of those distinguished-looking men in his early fifties with a deep voice that took on a slightly Southern drawl when he was on the radio and PA. It was a condition often referred to as sky drawl, when a pilot without a Southern accent turned into Chuck Yaeger whenever he got on the radio. Bob was tall and tanned, salt and pepper at the temples, full head of thick dark hair and a strong chin. Upon close inspection it appeared he colored his hair and used tanning cream on his faceâthose telltale orange stains on his cuticles and in the creases of his palms were dead giveaways. But you had to get close.
His mannerisms were laid back and slow-moving, aping Chuck Yaegerâs loose yet deliberate movements. Except on Bob it was all just affectation, and he had a tendency to look and sound more like that hapless Ted Knight, the anchorman on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Although married, he was flirtatious and suggestive, and their cabin crew for the last day and a half was all female and seemed to enjoy him a lot more than Nikki did.
Nikki supposed that if the only time you saw him was when you brought a cup of coffee or meal to the flight deck, you might be impressed with his style, but a couple of days alone in the cockpit with him revealed a copilot who was arrogant and barely competent. He acted as though heâd just brought in the space shuttle when, in fact, he had squeaked by his last two check rides, the evaluation of flying ability judged by the companyâs check airmen every six months. Nikki had to watch him every second, but so far his stupid oversights had not put them in mortal peril.
This lack of skill seemed incongruous with his background. Heâd been flying for thirty years and had held significant management positions along the way, including chief pilot or something at a small regional airline that had been driven under by the economic crises following 9/11. But he was used to smaller and less-complicated aircraft, and this jumbo jet was a lot of airplane for the guy. Heâd been flying F.O. for a good year and a half now and still he struggled.
Yet he had the temerity to seem surprised that Nikki was capable of handling a 767. When they met in the cockpit for their first flight together, he had said to her, âWell, letâs see what you got, little lady.â
She had leveled him with her iciest stare. When she finally found her voice, she said, âLook, Bob, Iâm not one of those touchy women who overreact to every little sexist remark, but I would like to explain one important thing to you. I have been a check airman and training captain in this aircraft for more years than youâve been flying it, and I am your captain, not your little lady. If thereâs any show-and-tell going on here, youâre the one on stage. Are we clear?â
That had put a burr under his saddle for a while, but now he limited himself to occasional grumbling comments about having held positions a lot more stressful and challenging in the business than she had. Too bad he couldnât limit his arrogance and incompetence, as well. Nikki wondered for the millionth time why the two always went together. But at least this trip was nearly over.
There was one bright spot, however. He had a hilarious habit of using words that didnât exist, and did so with typical overconfidence. Nikki found herself mentally repeating them over and over so she wouldnât forget, and it took all her willpower not to laugh out
Bob was one of those distinguished-looking men in his early fifties with a deep voice that took on a slightly Southern drawl when he was on the radio and PA. It was a condition often referred to as sky drawl, when a pilot without a Southern accent turned into Chuck Yaeger whenever he got on the radio. Bob was tall and tanned, salt and pepper at the temples, full head of thick dark hair and a strong chin. Upon close inspection it appeared he colored his hair and used tanning cream on his faceâthose telltale orange stains on his cuticles and in the creases of his palms were dead giveaways. But you had to get close.
His mannerisms were laid back and slow-moving, aping Chuck Yaegerâs loose yet deliberate movements. Except on Bob it was all just affectation, and he had a tendency to look and sound more like that hapless Ted Knight, the anchorman on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Although married, he was flirtatious and suggestive, and their cabin crew for the last day and a half was all female and seemed to enjoy him a lot more than Nikki did.
Nikki supposed that if the only time you saw him was when you brought a cup of coffee or meal to the flight deck, you might be impressed with his style, but a couple of days alone in the cockpit with him revealed a copilot who was arrogant and barely competent. He acted as though heâd just brought in the space shuttle when, in fact, he had squeaked by his last two check rides, the evaluation of flying ability judged by the companyâs check airmen every six months. Nikki had to watch him every second, but so far his stupid oversights had not put them in mortal peril.
This lack of skill seemed incongruous with his background. Heâd been flying for thirty years and had held significant management positions along the way, including chief pilot or something at a small regional airline that had been driven under by the economic crises following 9/11. But he was used to smaller and less-complicated aircraft, and this jumbo jet was a lot of airplane for the guy. Heâd been flying F.O. for a good year and a half now and still he struggled.
Yet he had the temerity to seem surprised that Nikki was capable of handling a 767. When they met in the cockpit for their first flight together, he had said to her, âWell, letâs see what you got, little lady.â
She had leveled him with her iciest stare. When she finally found her voice, she said, âLook, Bob, Iâm not one of those touchy women who overreact to every little sexist remark, but I would like to explain one important thing to you. I have been a check airman and training captain in this aircraft for more years than youâve been flying it, and I am your captain, not your little lady. If thereâs any show-and-tell going on here, youâre the one on stage. Are we clear?â
That had put a burr under his saddle for a while, but now he limited himself to occasional grumbling comments about having held positions a lot more stressful and challenging in the business than she had. Too bad he couldnât limit his arrogance and incompetence, as well. Nikki wondered for the millionth time why the two always went together. But at least this trip was nearly over.
There was one bright spot, however. He had a hilarious habit of using words that didnât exist, and did so with typical overconfidence. Nikki found herself mentally repeating them over and over so she wouldnât forget, and it took all her willpower not to laugh out
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