Santa and the elves were all busy, so much to do. The flight planning and flight following elves were flat strap, not only were there new war zones to avoid, volcanoes, RVSM airspace, ADSB airspace and new narrow roof top landing limits to comply with; but the Indian ocean had developed it's own version of the Bermuda triangle where alien spaceships where thought to be operating. No matter, the planning elves knew their work and would design a flight path to suit.
The tech elves also had their work cut out, new gadgets to fit and test, the paperwork was mounting. The chief tech elf had lost his temper a record number of times; very few of the tech elves would climb the steep staircase to his office, lest they were thumped by an outgoing (express) bundle of paperwork followed by a string of language, strong enough to turn the air blue and make a stokers mate blush. One of the real issues causing the chief tech elf to 'loose it' was that Santa had been forced into using 'clerical' types to do the fixing. The CTE needed proper spanner twisters, the ones with fingers like muscular centipedes and who could actually fix things, alas, middle management elves had 'let them go', claiming the new composite sled was imbued with magical, self healing powers.
Santa of course needed to renew his medical and complete his proficiency check. He had spent weeks training the reindeer to stop pedalling when he shouted Bang (check pilots were not authorised to carry shotguns any longer) and reckoned he had the simulated power unit failure problem licked.
He had been on a strict diet, no booze, plenty of green leafy stuff, lots of sleep and exercise (mostly due to chasing recalcitrant reindeer who wanted to frolic in the new snow, rather than play dead)..Anyway, the medical elf fussed and fiddled, a minor anomaly in the blood sugar department was, regrettably going to be an issue. Santa hustled off to the wee wee specialist elf; who declared 'no problem', so armed with a new paperwork pile, Santa trudged back the medical elf; eventually after a high blood pressure event a new medical certificate was issued, with pain in the arse proviso's, but Santa was so glad to be 'legal', he was prepared to wear it. New glasses were required, filling out a lengthy, invasive pro-forma had weakened his eyesight and filling in his name, address and ARN 16 times had not assisted his blood pressure. No matter, job done. Check ride next.
By the time the 'Check elf' executive transport landed, the sled was gleaming, all the new gizmos worked and even the paperwork was in order. Simulated MTOW was easily reached by simply loading all the shelf ware, required by law, for safety's sake inboard. From the exec jet a figure emerged "Oh no" groaned Santa, they have sent Cruella de Unspeakable.
Handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged, then it began. In the rush to get everything 'operational' Santa had not spent the mandatory three months translating the new rules and very quickly began to make some minor, technical errors during the Q&A. "But, but, that's highly subjective" huffed Santa when he was corrected; "Oh I know" gushed Cruella, "grand ain't it" and with a saccharine sweet smile the pen poised over one of the many forms. "Bugger it" thought Santa, "gone; gone for all money". Then slowly, the pen was raised "Hullo, what's this then" thought Santa. One of Santa's best presents was a winning lottery ticket; "I'll let it go this time" says Cruella, with a wink and a nod at the lottery tickets. Now Santa is nobody's fool, quietly, he stood up picked up one of the tickets, folded it neatly and put it in his shirt pocket. "Well, if that's all done, lets go flying". "No need now" says Cruella, "indeed it would be a shame to put those dahling little reindeer to all that work; I'm sure that this year you can as safely and compliantly conduct your flight as you have for the past countless years". Santa got Cruella back to the exec transport as fast as he decently could; "Merry Christmas" says he as he felt the lottery ticket slipping quietly from his pocket.
With a big sigh and a sheepish grin, shared with the chief tech elf Santa headed over to hangar; with only a day or so before the off, he had much to do; all of it important before departure. Pity Cruella didn't check the date on that ticket he mused. "Ho Ho Ho".
Tomorrow; a take off and a journey, if you're all very good.
Sponsored by IOS chapter 13, NUTS – Never Underestimate Total Shambollocks.
Toot - toot..
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