I went aflying recently. If you were expecting a diatribe against the present airline business, you are wrong. We were pretty much on time and arrived with all our bags present and intact.
So hallelujah, I even went through Atlanta without a problem and benefited from the exercise of changing planes. There was a longish layover there coming back, and I had an opportunity to really watch the ramp in action. Needing a little lunch and liquid refreshment, we found an eatery sponsored by one of the big brewers that was up a level from the main concourses. Our table overlooked the tarmac between two concourses. It was quite high up and gave us a bird’s-eye view of Atlanta in full cry.
There was a tractor roadway stretching across to the ramp to the next concourse, which was defined by newly painted white lines. I was strongly reminded of my childhood when I had found a large ant colony with the workers streaming in and out of their holes. You could really get some action by a little stirring with a stick, which would produce an angry outpouring of ants ready to defend their nest. That is what it resembled down below us. There was a constant stream of bag tractors crossing the ramp to and from one concourse to the other. Those coming toward us had a choice below and either turned left or right staying on the ramp or continued straight and disappeared into the building below us. Those crossing the ramp had the right of way over the ones on the roadway parallel to the building.
In this time of energy problems and high fuel prices, it was notable how few of the tractors were pulling anything. Most activity seemed to be like the ants stirred up by the stick, coming out of their holes, running around and then going back underground. A few faithful workers towed their load of bags, but so many were loadless it made you wonder. Where were they all going? Or coming from? As many came as went, so if the purpose was to move equipment to where it was needed, the net result was zero. I suspect the next thing in fuel conservation will be monitoring vehicle movements and finding out if the trip was necessary.
I admit it was interesting to watch. I was quite impressed with their compliance with the stop signs and in general, they yielded the right of way quite nicely. I would give an “A” to their safety habits. Ramps, of course, are one of the most dangerous places to drive. We have come a long way from the times when the only things defined were the aircraft taxi lines. No quarantine zones around aircraft parking areas, no nothing. Vehicles crossing every which way and parked in disorder. In bad weather it was worth your life to cross a ramp. I liked what I saw on the Atlanta ramp. Order and safety, although I only got a minute snapshot. The sheer quantity of vehicles, though, was staggering and I made comparisons to Greensboro where I work. There was more GSE in view in this one area than at the whole of GSO, although that will change with the oncoming FedEx hub.
Unfortunately, there are still accidents and damages in the ramp environment. Speed is often a factor and a train of carts does not always handle well at high velocity. In one case at Newark some years ago, a cart detached from a string and ended partly imbedded in a commuter aircraft. Immediately the GSE department was blamed, as the tow hitch had let go. I was not happy with that as GSE maintenance fell under my control at that time. I pointed out that speed might have been a factor, but this was vigorously denied. This was in spite of the fact that the cart, after detaching, had dug its towbar in and flipped end over end before running into the aircraft. Reluctantly, the blame was assigned to the driver.
Don’t Lose Your Head
I remember a caterer guiding a truck to the galley door of an A300 who lost his bump helmet to the CF-6 engine that was running. He hadn’t realized it and blithely stood next to the intake waving the truck in. He was fortunate it was only the helmet and not him.
Bump helmets remind me of their initial use way back in the 1950s. These were lightweight and not like the later safety helmets. They were generally loathed by everyone as you had to get into some restricted and tight areas to work, but the company was adamant that people should wear them. To emphasize the point, they said that anyone suffering a head wound would be disciplined if they weren’t wearing their bump helmets. Our graveyard-shift lead mechanic was named O’Rafferty and was an Irish extrovert who had a true brogue as thick as Guinness and could spin a yarn. One night he opened the door of a Hough T300 tractor and prepared to climb up when a big gust of wind caught the door and slammed it against his head. It laid open his scalp and like any head wound, it bled profusely.
“Get me your bump helmet,” O’Rafferty says to a mechanic, who was actually wearing one.
O’Rafferty opened the door again and slammed it violently on the helmet which cracked open. He then bled on it a bit and then took himself with it into the hangar.
Seeing the supervisor, O’Rafferty says, “I’m hurt but Lord be praised this helmet saved me from cracking my head open.”
He was taken to the Idlewild office of Dr. Starr and sewn up. Immediately the safety department leapt at the chance and O’Rafferty was used to give safety talks to other shifts on the value of the helmet, was written up in the company paper and even got a savings bond. We could only roll our eyes and talk among ourselves at the luck of the Irish.
