Why only 99%, you ask?
Well, before they fixed it, I remember flying into Stuttgart, Germany where the runway was almost comically short. As a result, the pilots were forced to buzz a street, practically take out the fence and bang the landing gear down either on the skid mark-covered chevrons or the patch of sod at the end of the runway in an attempt to gain as much pavement as they could.
Once on the ground, however, the real fun began with a barely controlled jet barreling headlong at 200 MPH into the terminal. This was finished by a very hard, high-speed right turn, and the end of a ten hour flight was punctuated by the screams of terrified passengers, overhead compartments emptying themselves, and the sound of squealing tires and grunting metal. Trust me, if you were the kind of person who could sleep on a flight, this would wake you up in a cold sweat.
Of course, I loved it, and I was somewhat sad to learn they lengthened the runway. After all, it's best to get that inevitable brush with death on vacation out of the way as soon as possible.
-DP
That must have been so cool!
ReplyDeleteOh Lord! Only you would enjoy that! And that other person that left a comment! lol
ReplyDeleteJackie :)
ReplyDeleteActually I seem to recall seeing a blog about a beach at the end of a run way and its a big tourist attraction now to be there when the planes come in. Must have been true since it was posted on the internet.
While that is an edited photo, it's somewhat real. The beach is in St. Maarten, and the planes do come in almost comically low.
ReplyDeleteThe only way I'd fly into Germany is if I were piloting a B-52.
LOL.... You are too much, Dan! Reminds me of landing on JFK's back runway in the rain, as you skid toward the LI Sound... things do flash before your eyes!! lol
ReplyDeletebe well,
Dawn
When I lived in Denver, I used to love flying back into that city when returning from Los Angeles, while sitting next to a novice. The old Denver airport wasn't terribly far from the mountains, so the pilot had to sort of 'drop into' it. Those who weren't familiar with the phenomenon would bless themselves and then hang on for life, usually while digging their fingernails into my arm. I put on a comforting look, while secretly delighting in their terror. How smug I was. I've gotten paid back with a few 'Bless Me, Father' experiences of my own since then. I deserved it. Tina http://journals.aol.com/onemoretina/Ridealongwithme
ReplyDelete