Old but worth another chortle

Fresh outta my inbox

The following are accounts of (supposedy) actual exchanges between airline pilots and control towers around the world.


Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!"

Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital watches!"

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"TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees."

" Centre, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?"

"Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

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From an unknown aircraft waiting in a very long takeoff queue: "I'm
f...ing bored!"

Ground Traffic Control: "Last aircraft transmitting, identify yourself
immediately!"

Unknown aircraft: "I said I was f...ing bored, not f...ing stupid!"
==========================================================

O'Hare Approach Control to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a
Fokker, one o'clock, three miles, Eastbound."

United 239: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this... I've got the
little Fokker in sight."

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A student became lost during a solo cross-country flight. While
attempting to locate the aircraft on radar, ATC asked, "What was your last
known position?"

Student: "When I was number one for takeoff."

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A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out
after touching down.

San Jose Tower Noted: "American 751, make a hard right turn at the end of
the runway, if you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadalupe exit
off Highway 101, make a right at the lights and return to
the airport."

==========================================================

There's a story about the military pilot calling for a priority landing
because his single-engine jet fighter was running "a bit peaked."

Air Traffic Control told the fighter jock that he was number two, behind a
B -52 that had one engine shut down."Ah," the fighter pilot remarked, "The
dreaded seven-engine approach"

==========================================================

Taxiing down the tarmac, a DC-10 abruptly stopped, turned around and
returned to the gate.

After an hour-long wait, it finally took off. A concerned passenger
asked the flight attendant, "What, exactly, was the problem?" "The pilot
was bothered by a noise he heard in the engine, "explained the flight
attendant. "It took us a while to find a new pilot."

==========================================================
A Pan Am 727 flight waiting for start clearance in Munich overheard the
following:

Lufthansa (in German): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"

Ground (in English): "If you want an answer you must speak in English."

Lufthansa (in English): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in
Germany. Why must I speak English?"

Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful British accent): "Because
you lost the bloody war"
=========================================================

Tower: "Eastern 702, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on frequency
124.7" Eastern 702: "Tower, Eastern 702 switching to Departure. By the
way, after we lifted off we saw some kind of dead animal on the far end of
the runway."

Tower: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff behind Eastern 702, contact
Departure on frequency 124.7. Did you copy that report from Eastern 702?"


Continental 635: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff, roger; and yes,we
copied Eastern... we've already notified our caterers."
=========================================================

One day the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of
the active runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out,
turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted
comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said, "What a cute little
plane. Did you make it all by yourself?"

The Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a
real zinger: "I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like yours and
I'll have enough parts for another one."
=========================================================
The German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a
short-tempered lot. They not only expect one to know one's gate parking
location, but how to get there without any assistance from them. So it
was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the following
exchange between Frankfurt ground
control and a British Airways 747, call sign Speedbird 206.

Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206 clear of active runway."

Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven."

The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop.

Ground: "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"

Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now."

Ground (with quite arrogant impatience): "Speedbird 206, have you not
been to Frankfurt before?"

Speedbird 206 (coolly): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark, -- and I
didn't land."
=========================================================

While taxiing at London's Gatwick Airport, the crew of a US Air flight
departing for Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose with
a United 727.

An irate female ground controller lashed out at the US Air crew,
screaming: "US Air 2771, where the hell are you going?! I told you to
turn right onto Charlie taxiway! You turned right on Delta! Stop right
there.

I know it's difficult for you to tell the difference between C and D, but
get it right!" Continuing her rage to the embarrassed crew, she was now
shouting hysterically: "God! Now you've screwed everything up! It'll
take forever to sort this out! You stay right there and don't move till I

tell you to! You can expect progressive taxi instructions in about half
an hour and I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you,
and how I tell you! You got that, US Air 2771?"

"Yes, ma'am," the humbled crew responded. Naturally, the ground control
communications frequency fell terribly silent after the verbal bashing of
US Air 2771.

Nobody wanted to chance engaging the irate ground controller in her
current state of mind. Tension in every cockpit out around Gatwick was
definitely running high.

Just then an unknown pilot broke the silence and keyed his microphone,
asking: "Wasn't I married to you once?"

http://www.vapochill.eclipse.co.uk/emotes/laugh2.gif

SR71 Antics:

Quote:

---

An air traffic controller in LA was busy maintaining separation of all the various aircraft on his scope, talking to mooney this, bonanza that, Delta 1515, United 5151, etc, when this voice comes up: (Military call signs are some word, indicating the squadron, followed by a number, often denoting the rank in the squadron... so redneck 1 would be the commander of a squadron named "redneck." I've named this squadron 'snake', because I don't remember the real name)

"Los Angeles Center, Snake 4 requesting flight level 610" (this would be 61,000 feet, higher than any civilian traffic, and most military)

After a pause, the controller replied,

"Snake 4, if you can get there, you can have it"

"Los Angeles Center, Snake 4 descending out of 800 to 610"

---

and..

Quote:

---

In his book, "Sled Driver", SR-71 Blackbird pilot Brian Shul writes: "I'll always remember a certain radio exchange that occurred one day as Walt(my back-seater) and I were screaming across Southern California 13 miles high.We were monitoring various radio transmissions from other aircraft as we entered Los Angeles airspace. Though they didn't really control us, they did monitor our movement across their scope. I heard a Cessna ask for a readout of its ground speed."90 knots" Center replied. Moments later, a Twin Beech required the same. "120 knots," Center answered. We weren't the only ones proud of our ground speed that day as almost instantly an F-18 smugly transmitted, "Ah, Center, Dusty 52 requests ground speed readout." There was a slight pause, then the response, "525 knots on the ground,Dusty." Another silent pause. As I was thinking to myself how ripe a situation this was, I heard a familiar click of a radio transmission
coming from my back-seater.
It was at that precise moment I realized Walt and I had become a real crew, for we were both thinking in unison. "Center, Aspen 20, you got a ground speed readout for us?" There was a longer than normal pause .... "Aspen, I show 1,742 knots"
No further inquiries were heard on that frequency.


In another famous SR-71 story, Los Angeles Center reported receiving a request for clearance to FL 60 (60,000ft). The incredulous controller, with some disdain in his voice, asked, "How do you plan to get up to 60,000 feet?
The pilot (obviously a sled driver), responded,"We don't plan to go up to it, we plan to go down to it." He was cleared.

---

:D

LMAO a few new ones there for me :)

"Zulu Alpha Kilo-33, do we have contacts, this Cessna is boring me, over"
"Negative Zulu Alpha Kilo-33, no contacts, they've just realised you're a flight sim nutter, over"

Roger that

lol Zak :D

Quote:

---

In his book, "Sled Driver", SR-71 Blackbird pilot Brian Shul writes: "I'll always remember a certain radio exchange that occurred one day as Walt(my back-seater) and I were screaming across Southern California 13 miles high.We were monitoring various radio transmissions from other aircraft as we entered Los Angeles airspace. Though they didn't really control us, they did monitor our movement across their scope. I heard a Cessna ask for a readout of its ground speed."90 knots" Center replied. Moments later, a Twin Beech required the same. "120 knots," Center answered. We weren't the only ones proud of our ground speed that day as almost instantly an F-18 smugly transmitted, "Ah, Center, Dusty 52 requests ground speed readout." There was a slight pause, then the response, "525 knots on the ground,Dusty." Another silent pause. As I was thinking to myself how ripe a situation this was, I heard a familiar click of a radio transmission
coming from my back-seater.
It was at that precise moment I realized Walt and I had become a real crew, for we were both thinking in unison. "Center, Aspen 20, you got a ground speed readout for us?" There was a longer than normal pause .... "Aspen, I show 1,742 knots"
No further inquiries were heard on that frequency.

---

LOL :D

This is one of my father's flying anecdotes ~

It is a winter night in the early 1960's and my father is riding in the back seat of a Gloster Javelin on a standard night patrol over the North Sea. They are on the lookout for Russian bombers and recon testing our defense readiness. The patrol is going well, uneventful as they often are, the two Sapphire engines pushing them through the layers of dense cloud, which are no problem for Britain's first all weather interceptor. They are almost relaxed as they reach their patrol altitude, reach their cruising speed, and reduce power.

Then they see it ahead of them, staring as a small glimmer grows into a brilliant silver glowing saucer. My father had heard the stories about flying saucers, but could hardly belive he was seeing one now. They were used to strange lights in the sky, the aurora borealis keeping them company on their lonely routes, but nothing like this.

'Do you see what I'm seeing?' He asks the pilot.
'Uhuh, you see it too then?'

They set off in pursuit of the bogey, my father excited that they might be the first crew to shoot down one of these UFO things, speculating that it could be a secret Russian aircraft, or even - Marsians! The pilot swings the plane into an intercept vector and hits the afterburners. They accelerate into the night sky. My father peers into the radar scope; nothing there, maybe some sort of cloaking! There it is solid as ever ahead of them, it isn't getting any larger, it must be matching their speed.

'Shall we call this in?' asks my father.
'Wait a minute. Let's be sure. Besides if we do they'll be vectoring every plane in the area after it.'

My father goes back to the radar. Still no sign of it. They climb breaking through another layer of cloud, the night sky finally opening up above them, and look on in horror at what they've been chasing. Brilliant silver and glowing, the disc of a full moon that had been shining through two layers of cloud to form a saucer shaper.

They both felt rather silly, and didn't call in the contact.

:D

Pinched from a similar thread on another forum ~


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There's the oldie but goody about a flight from Boston to Virginia, calling up in a crisp New England Accent:

N7000Y "Seven Thousand Yankee's ten miles north of Richmond"

Approach (In a languid southern drawl): "Aw no, not again...."

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ATC: "Clipper 123, what's the turbulence like at your level?"
123: "Well ... how shall I put it? The Captain's just stuck his fork up his nose."
ATC: "TWA 789, what's the turbulence like at your level?"
TWA: "I don't know, we haven't eaten yet."

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SOUTHEND ATC TO UNKNOWN----TRYING TO LAND-

ATC-- WHAT CAN YOU SEE
PILOT!---I CAN SEE THE RUNWAY WITH A VERY LARGE BUILDING ALONGSIDE
ATC------IS THE BUILDING NEXT TO WATER
PILOT---YES
ATC-----YOU ARE TRYING TO LAND AT BRADWELL POWER STATION

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These posts really crack me up :D