Shut Up on Your DC-9

Going Across the Sea

The Mediterranean sun glittered brightly on Saturday morning. The heavens were clear. Not a hint of turbulence lingered in the atmosphere. Our Alitalia DC-9 climbed out of Lisbon eastward to the Eternal City.

The circular bull rings in Spanish towns showed below. The day’s heat was coming. We passed the coast near Valencia and flew over the Balearic Islands. We passed over Palma de Majorca and moved to open Mediterranean azure waters. The sun illuminated the waters and reflected off the sea.

A Hectic Cockpit

I was sitting in the first seat of the plane right behind the cockpit. The cockpit was wide open with a jump seat in the middle blocking the doorway. A check pilot sat there reviewing the pilot and co-pilot. He juggled manuals, checklists, and handbooks on his lap and the cockpit floor. They were quite intense running through all sorts of checklists, procedures, and tests. With the open cockpit, their technical conversations were overheard the whole ride.

Penne with tomato sauce came. The chief steward poured a glass of red wine. I gazed out the window and enjoyed the sparkle of the Mediterranean. I could image sailing or jumping off a boat into the teal refreshing waters.

We flew towards Corsica when they started descending into Fiumicino Airport. It was smooth. The cockpit talk exchanged details of our descent. I got up to go to the bathroom careful not to slam the door on the cockpit opening in the crowded quarters of this Alitalia workhorse.

I exited the bathroom and started talking to the chief steward. He offered me a cordial or after meal aperitive. It was early morning, so I declined. We chatted about the latest Alitalia labor problems and decreasing salaries. Our conversation outside the cockpit was friendly.

Then suddenly, the pilot yelled out in a loud voice,

‍Shut up!

We were stunned by his abrupt command and manner. What a pilot! I quickly returned to my seat, little stunned and didn’t say a thing as we landed. I never experienced this behavior from an airline staff. A letter to the CEO was already drafted complaining about his rudeness.

We taxied to a remote tarmac. Engines were turned off. We waited to get our belongings and exit to the bus. The pilot rushed through the check pilot’s seat and immediately came up to me. He smiled, shook my hand, and said,

‍I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk to you like that. I couldn’t hear the Fiumicino traffic control [communications] and had to ask them to repeat the instructions.

He apologized again. The Eternal City was approached beautifully for a Saturday walk.

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