Pull My Finger

It is with sickening clarity that I have come to the realization that I am - Dear God no - a "serious" flight simulation enthusiast. There. I said it. That dirty little secret is out. More to the point, I have accepted the fact that such is true regarding yours truly. This is not to say that I am comfortable with such knowledge. Imagine Sweeney Todd standing with his razor poised over the neck of some unsuspecting schlump, and before he strikes he thinks "Well now, is this truly what I am?" At which point, he thinks "Well, yep". And you know the rest. Not pretty, certainly not what the customer bargained for, but nonetheless the customer is sporting a much wider smile than he had before he sat in the chair, Sweeney Todd adds another notch on the hilt of his razor, and I remain with the bitter realization that at some point, I have far overstepped the boundary of "casual simmer" and entered the dark and spooky world of "serious simmer". Crap.

Let us return, momentarily, to my buddy Andrew Beranek. You know, the guy who does those nifty NHL repaints for the PMDG birds that I like so much. Well, Andrew did a little something to the PMDG 747 that really caught my interest. Naturally, that particular bird happens to be in repose in my FSHangar, being one of the birds I purchased in my glassy-eyed zeal to procure every piece of payware imaginable for this damn hobby of ours. And just as naturally, I printed every piece of paper I could find released by PMDG and their minions (whom I believe secretly are the anti-Christ to those tree huggers out there who swoon at the mere mention of paper used for anything other than proclamations protecting vast swathes of forest, or those little orange "Do Not Cut Christmas Trees" signs that sprout every Thanksgiving or so) describing in oh so minute detail the operation of said Jumbo, after which I came to further realization that perhaps I was not quite the serious simmer I had imagined I was, and put the damn thing away for contemplation at some esoteric future date.

Well, thanks to Andrew, that future date has arrived. I find myself happily unzipping files, opening dusty manuals and tutorials, and imagine my surprise when geez, this whiz-bang monster ain't so bad after all. The FMC is, well, an FMC. I can do those. The dazzling array of push me/pull me thing-a-ma-bobs that surrounds one are laid out in more or less logical placement, and they all really do have a function that if followed logically actually do make sense in a twisted, Frankenstein sort of way. The panel, while certainly not a Cessna 172, and when taken in small doses pending familiarity, is actually quite manageable.

Sure.

Suffice to say, this beast is now in my stable, with spiffy paint, all ready to go. Know what I've done so far? Let's see. I've opened the aircraft at KJFK. I've looked at the 2D and VC views. I've become familiar with the overhead, as these are far and away my favorite parts of any advanced sim. I've even managed to find the battery button and toggled that a few times. And, I've been doing this here article.

Let's call it the intimidation factor, OK? I mean, this is The Mother Of All Airliners. Engines you could drive through, stop and get out and have a sandwich and continue on and never even touch the sides. From the flight deck one may gaze down upon the dorsal side of my beloved 737's. How the hell do you know, upon landing, that you're down? Perched in the cockpit, it feels like you're closing in on the transition altitude rather than on concrete. This is not a small plane.

And yet, I remain undaunted. A little damp in the trousers, perhaps, but willing to press ahead and tame this beast. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the point at which one is either a "serious" or a "not so serious" flight simulator enthusiast. Does one, as I have done so often in the past, discretely hit the "delete" button and totter off to the kitchen for a sandwich and a cold one, or does one gird one's (damp) loins and press onward? The moment of truth! Shall it be ham or bologna?

Damned if I haven't done it yet again. Sure to place my smiling mug on page one of the tree-hugger hit list, I've found a delightful set of four "lessons" for the aspiring pilot of the 747. I've naturally printed each one, congratulating myself on my eco-friendly decision to eliminate the very first page of each part, as it all says basically the same thing in the way of an introduction. Who needs to read that more than once? So eighty some-odd pages later I've managed to avoid printing exactly three pages. You'd think this would immunize me from the green members looking to save a tree.

Now that I've downloaded and printed all these keen manuals, all I have to do now is read them. Learn them. Live them. It occurs to me that this is not unlike being back in high school, only without the acne and baggy pants. More stuff to cram in the old cranium. More pages to study. Sure there will be a test, but a test of my own making and at a time of my own choosing. But a test surely enough. This is fun? Perhaps. But I have reached the realization that this is another mark of a "serious" flight simulator hobbyist.

Once again, we find our flight simulator world is ready, willing and able to answer the call of we the afflicted, offering a mixture of fun, sweat, effort and satisfaction. Small wonder we who "get it" are never quite ready to relinquish our time behind the yoke.

I am finding, as I slide gracefully down the slippery back side slope, that flight simming is not unlike the game all grandfathers find themselves teaching their grandkids at one time or another, Pull My Finger. It is a game with which most are familiar, though reluctant to admit same. It is ubiquitous. Passed (good pun, eh?) from generation to generation, just as it seems simulated flight software is sprouting like dandelions in the summer. And, you always know what is coming next. Even considering the programs that promise to break your aircraft at some random time, leaving you with the option of fighting through the problem or permitting your digital aircraft, passengers and crew to create a hole, you will either exit the program or wind up on terra firma, one way or another. As has been said, it is far better to be on the ground wishing one was up there, than to be up there, wishing one was on the ground. But again, you know that gravity will win, sooner or later.

Well, pull my finger and you know what comes next. If you don't know, let's play a little game, shall we?

Three Green!

Chip Barber
rfbarber2@verizon.net

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