One of the most satisfying aspects of being an airline pilot is the feeling you get on arrival when the flight was smooth, the landing perfect, everything ran on time, and all the passengers smiled at you as they stepped off the plane.
For the air crew, a flight is a performance, a finite production with a definite beginning and end and a well-defined script in between. You grab your flight bag and overnight bag, make any necessary entries into the appropriate logs, and leave the aircraft to the next team of pilots and flight attendants as it sets up for the next performance.
But as the flight crew's show comes to an end, a symphony is beginning, full of speed, complexity, challenge, humor and occasional danger; all of it as exquisitely intertwined with changing harmonies (and occasional dissonance) as a symphony by Shoernberg.
As the aircraft noses into the gate, a small army converges with sound and fury signifying an amazing orchestration of people and material. And in most cases, within 45 minutes, the performance ends with the aircraft taxiing away, once again full of people, bags and fuel.
We watch this amazing performance with every airline flight, but it's so routine and usually so harmonious, we don't notice. In fact, when everything comes together precisely as planned, the desired effect really is a form of public invisibility. Of course, the passenger shouldn't notice the activity any more than the playgoer should be aware of the backstage crew working magic between curtains.
In some respects, the symphonic simile works on an interesting level.
From the perspective of the cockpit, the mechanic standing on the ramp (and sometimes on top of a large pushback tractor) as the aircraft approaches seems like a conductor, his or her arms raised as if signaling a touchdown, lighted wands in each hand. At the moment the nosewheel rolls into the right spot, the upheld wands come together in an "X" like a downbeat, and the first, frantic movement of the symphony begins.
Quickly another mechanic shoves wheel chocks in front of and behind the nosewheel as others wrestle a huge black power cord into position to power the aircraft's electrical systems. The power is switched on, checked in the cockpit, and selected as the primary source before the engines or the auxiliary power unit is shutdown (we call them APU's -- small jet engines usually in the tail powering an electrical generator).
At the same moment a gate agent begins moving toward the door of the aircraft with the Jetway, a moveable walkway with a lip nearly three stories above the ramp. The agent snuggles it carefully into place, lowers the accordion-like rain shield, makes sure the automatic emergency slide on the door has been disarmed, and helps to open the aircraft.
Below, baggage handlers driving small tugs trailing baggage carts are already pulling into position as their teammates motor open the cargo doors forward and aft and nudge the rolling conveyor belts up to each compartment.
On aircraft that do not use the modularized containers, someone is already scrambling inside the baggage bin to start bringing the luggage onto the top of the conveyor.