Christmas Wish List
Thread Starter
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: 26000 to 28,000 lightyears from the galatic centre
Age: 77
Posts: 195
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Christmas Wish List
Dear Santa
This is my Christmas wish list for myself and other Instructors / Pilots that fly at a very busy school in North Essex.
1/ That all pilots transiting our ATZ do so at 2000 feet AAL, and for those that cannot read a map or add up that's not below 2225 feet on the Stansted QNH. Then stay clear of the glider site at Wormingford otherwise they will star in the Hall of Shame at:- http://www.esgc.co.uk/home.asp?start=esgchome.htm
2/ That all pilots visiting our airfield carry out the Standard Overhead Join unless there is no other circuit traffic to effect.
Calling Joining left base with 3 students in the circuit is downright dangerous and selfish.
3/ That private owners in the 'HOTSHIPS' take note of item 2,
suggest you all take a look at Rule 17 section 2 ANO, you are not the only people in the circuit.
4/ That Hotshots in there Aero Machines doing Aerobatics at Rivenhall give our A/G a call, might just stop somebody bumping into you.
5/ That people don't overload our A/G with unnecessary RT traffic our volunteers on the radio are very busy people.
Finally Santa, happy landings and don't miss out EGSR but please use the 10 mtr hard insert of the Runway as the Grass is very very wet, and be careful with heavy braking.
Thank you Santa iand I wish you and all Pilots a Happy Christmas
Orions***
This is my Christmas wish list for myself and other Instructors / Pilots that fly at a very busy school in North Essex.
1/ That all pilots transiting our ATZ do so at 2000 feet AAL, and for those that cannot read a map or add up that's not below 2225 feet on the Stansted QNH. Then stay clear of the glider site at Wormingford otherwise they will star in the Hall of Shame at:- http://www.esgc.co.uk/home.asp?start=esgchome.htm
2/ That all pilots visiting our airfield carry out the Standard Overhead Join unless there is no other circuit traffic to effect.
Calling Joining left base with 3 students in the circuit is downright dangerous and selfish.
3/ That private owners in the 'HOTSHIPS' take note of item 2,
suggest you all take a look at Rule 17 section 2 ANO, you are not the only people in the circuit.
4/ That Hotshots in there Aero Machines doing Aerobatics at Rivenhall give our A/G a call, might just stop somebody bumping into you.
5/ That people don't overload our A/G with unnecessary RT traffic our volunteers on the radio are very busy people.
Finally Santa, happy landings and don't miss out EGSR but please use the 10 mtr hard insert of the Runway as the Grass is very very wet, and be careful with heavy braking.
Thank you Santa iand I wish you and all Pilots a Happy Christmas
Orions***
Join Date: Aug 2000
Location: Norfolk
Posts: 1,966
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Shame really that as an alleged FI that you still believe in Santa!
Private owners in their "hotships" are a lot more real than a children's fictional character - why not approach them as individuals OR even promulgate a note in the Squadron?
Stik
Private owners in their "hotships" are a lot more real than a children's fictional character - why not approach them as individuals OR even promulgate a note in the Squadron?
Stik
Blah Blah Blah
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Malmesbury VRP
Age: 49
Posts: 927
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Maths and the whizz wheel can back that up.
There are approximately two billion children in the world (under 18). However since santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu Jewish or Buddist religions, this reduces the workload on Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million. At an average global census rate of 3.5 children per household, that comes to 108 million homes.
Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the rotation of the earth and different time zones. Presuming that there is at least one good child in each home this works out at 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to:
- Park the sleigh
- Hop out
- Distribute presents
- Eat whatever snaks have been left for him
- Take the carrot left for Rudolf and his pals back up the chimney
- Jump back on the sleigh and get on to the next house
Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which of course it isn't but for the purposes of our calculations), we are talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of some 75.5 million miles, not counting toilet stops or breaks. This means Santa is moving at 650 miles per second-3000 times the speed of sound. For the purpose of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulyesses space probe, moves at a pokey 27.4 miles per second, and the conventional Mk1 Reindeer can only run at best 15mph.
The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each good child gets at most a medium sized lego set of 2lbs, the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tons, not counting Santa himself - who is by all accounts a rather portly gent.
On land a Mk1 Reindeer can pull no more than 300lbs. Even granting that the 'flying reindeer' could pull ten times the normal amount, the job cannot be done with eight or nine or even ten of them - Santa would require 360,000 of them! this increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, by another 54,000 tons, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth 2 ( the ship, not the monarch).
Around 600,000 tonnes traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this would heat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the Earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of Reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating ear deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire Reindeer team would be vaporized in 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip.
Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 miles per second in 0.001 second, would be subjected to centrifugal forces of 17,500g's. A 250lb Santa (which seem ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015lbs of force, instantaneously crushing bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo!!
Thread Starter
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: 26000 to 28,000 lightyears from the galatic centre
Age: 77
Posts: 195
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Do not know who wrote this came to me via E Mail
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Do not know who wrote this came to me via E Mail
Last edited by orionsbelt; 22nd Dec 2006 at 18:45.
Blah Blah Blah
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Malmesbury VRP
Age: 49
Posts: 927
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Do not know who wrote this came to me via E Mail
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.
When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.
He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.
He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?
While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."
He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.
He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"
And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"
He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."
Do not know who wrote this came to me via E Mail
Thats Quality
Chocks Away!
Join Date: Aug 2006
Location: Manchester Barton
Age: 54
Posts: 260
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
dEAR SaNTa
Pleez santa, al I wont iS to Bee a betta piLot.
TiggerMouTH
PZ PleeZ can i hAv a DicksionaRY to!
Christmas Greetings to you all, and a peaceful and safe New Year
Pleez santa, al I wont iS to Bee a betta piLot.
TiggerMouTH
PZ PleeZ can i hAv a DicksionaRY to!
Christmas Greetings to you all, and a peaceful and safe New Year
