I pretty much covered the start of a typical day (boring, except for the scenery during the work-walk and keeping a weather eye out for Things Out Of Place) up to about 0700, so I'll pick up from there.
But first, some dramatic foreshadowing. For reasons of exigency, happenstance, and oddball coincidence, I'm back doing pretty much what I was doing in Iraq -- temporarily, anyway. The Statement Of Work calls for an IP to be physically present in the simulator building to handle both regularly scheduled flight periods and to fill in any of the crew slots in the event one of the scheduled pilots is a no-show. So, because the other IPs would prefer to, y'know, actually *fly*, and since I'm the new guy *and* I can run (and troubleshoot) sims, I got tapped to be the duty IP.
The time is now 0700, plus or minus a couple of minutes. I've already entered the building (after having cajoled the multi-coded security lock open), done a quick security sweep, and (most important) set up the coffee.
Time to fire up the computers and consoles.
Chug the first cup of coffee, then wait for all the screens to show what they're supposed to show. If I get a BSOD on anyof them, I have an hour to fix it.
The guy who came up with the term "Disaster Recovery" wasn't exaggerating *that* much.
If things are copacetic, I climb up into the Mi-17 sim to check the screen alignment and make sure the cockpit switches are properly set.
Yup. Fully-enclosed, 220-degree, 3-D FOV and three-axis motion. It's like being inside a video game, with the added benefit of proprioceptive-inducednausea illusion.
Well, it *did* have that benefit until Servo Number Two blew a seal halfway across the bay. For now, it's visual-only.
But the visuals are pretty good.
The training schedule's split between instrument work and tactical stuff (we have several customers, not all of 'em US or Afghan, including some My Ops Are Blacker Than Your Ops guys). So, it helps that I can program in some extra excitement when The Lads ask for it.
Such as getting shot at with MANPADs.
Yes, there really *are* little Bad Guys on that rooftop with shoulder-fired heat-seekers. Wanna meet one?
Ooops -- scared him. But, since I haven't programmed any defensive (or offensive) weapons into any of the scenarios (yet...), I have to do the next best thing in order to neutralize this idiot.
Have an Apache put a hyperbaric Hellfire on him.
Why? Because I can. And there *are* Apaches plugged into the visuals. I'll show you one later -- they're surprisingly unrealistic...
My neighbor down the hall runs the C-27 Cockpit Familiarization Trainer in support of the US and Afghan fixed-wing folks.
It's a bit more -- shall I say -- "austere"...
And that brings me to about 0800...
But first, some dramatic foreshadowing. For reasons of exigency, happenstance, and oddball coincidence, I'm back doing pretty much what I was doing in Iraq -- temporarily, anyway. The Statement Of Work calls for an IP to be physically present in the simulator building to handle both regularly scheduled flight periods and to fill in any of the crew slots in the event one of the scheduled pilots is a no-show. So, because the other IPs would prefer to, y'know, actually *fly*, and since I'm the new guy *and* I can run (and troubleshoot) sims, I got tapped to be the duty IP.
The time is now 0700, plus or minus a couple of minutes. I've already entered the building (after having cajoled the multi-coded security lock open), done a quick security sweep, and (most important) set up the coffee.
Time to fire up the computers and consoles.
Chug the first cup of coffee, then wait for all the screens to show what they're supposed to show. If I get a BSOD on anyof them, I have an hour to fix it.
The guy who came up with the term "Disaster Recovery" wasn't exaggerating *that* much.
If things are copacetic, I climb up into the Mi-17 sim to check the screen alignment and make sure the cockpit switches are properly set.
Yup. Fully-enclosed, 220-degree, 3-D FOV and three-axis motion. It's like being inside a video game, with the added benefit of proprioceptive-induced
Well, it *did* have that benefit until Servo Number Two blew a seal halfway across the bay. For now, it's visual-only.
But the visuals are pretty good.
The training schedule's split between instrument work and tactical stuff (we have several customers, not all of 'em US or Afghan, including some My Ops Are Blacker Than Your Ops guys). So, it helps that I can program in some extra excitement when The Lads ask for it.
Such as getting shot at with MANPADs.
Yes, there really *are* little Bad Guys on that rooftop with shoulder-fired heat-seekers. Wanna meet one?
Ooops -- scared him. But, since I haven't programmed any defensive (or offensive) weapons into any of the scenarios (yet...), I have to do the next best thing in order to neutralize this idiot.
Have an Apache put a hyperbaric Hellfire on him.
Why? Because I can. And there *are* Apaches plugged into the visuals. I'll show you one later -- they're surprisingly unrealistic...
My neighbor down the hall runs the C-27 Cockpit Familiarization Trainer in support of the US and Afghan fixed-wing folks.
It's a bit more -- shall I say -- "austere"...
And that brings me to about 0800...
As my teenage self used to say: "Far (bleep)ing out dude." You not only get to fly outrageous contraptions around you get to mess with the minds of trainees whislt teaching them to stay on the right side of the turf.
But doesn't you post belie what our beloved (cough, cough, uh, er) Vice President has to say about staying in school or you might end up in the military. I mean using words like exigency shows your vocabulary is not limited to Tarzan-like grunts and you are using computers and things that are supposed to be beyond the capabilities of a mere military man.
Does it make you feel better to know you're smarter than the guy second-in-line to have his finger on the button or does it scare you as much as it does me?
And I've owned inanimate objects with more mental capacity than Sir Gaffes-a-lot...
OTOH, VPOTUS Sir Gaffe-a-minit, doesn't even rise that far. I'd say the level of his IQ is lower than snake's belly in a wagon rut. I would get more accurate, but this is a family friendly blog and such language, though accurate, is inappropriate. We used to call that sort of language "Army Creole" so as to not offend even in the description of said dialect. But, then, the mere existence of said VP is a sad commentary on the intellectual capacity of the country, which is at profane levels.
2. X-Plane 10 is out; mine should arrive next week.
Cheers
JMH: Hyperbaric. The anti-personnel version uses blast overpressure to clean out buildings without sending hot, screaming chunks of metal through the walls -- they're just bigh flash-bang grenades. Impressive boom in the open, but they don't do a lot of damage in an unconfined area. X-plane -- mmmmmmm...
Mythilt: Where ya been hiding? Maybe instead of actual kangaroo simulations, I'll just make the bad guy figures go hopping across the rooftops...
The world remains safe for Kevlar...