Pilots "Twas the night before Christmas"

Twas the night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty at 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, resting my butt.

When the radio lit up with noise and with chatter,
I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked his transmission so lively and quick,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick".
I ran to the panel to turn up the lights,
The better to welcome this magical flight.

He called his position, no room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, turnin' left onto final."
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, down the glideslope he came,
As he passed all fixes, he called them by name:
"Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', and scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, and I heard it with dread,
The message they left was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, turned off of three-oh
And stopped on the ramp with a "Ho, ho-ho-ho. "

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
I ran out to meet him with my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles were covered with frost
And his beard was all blackened from Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, in his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, with hundred low-lead."
He came dashing in from the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious for drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, and sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land in an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger on his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower for clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, the southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero at pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, the best of the best,
"Your traffic's a Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

Anonymous

OMG - is it that time of year again?

"Cockpit Colin" wrote in message
...
OMG - is it that time of year again?

Yup!!



THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS
December 14, 2004
My dearest darling John:
Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge in
a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a hundred
times for thinking of me this way.
My love always,
Agnes
================================================
December 15, 2004
Dearest John:
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two
turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They
are just adorable.
All my love,
Agnes
================================================
December 16, 2004
Dear John:
Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't
deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling but
I must insist, you've been too kind.
All my love,
Agnes
================================================
December 17, 2004
Dear John:
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are
beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are being too
romantic.
Affectionately,
Agnes
================================================
December 18, 2004
Dearest John:
What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one
for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all
those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love,
Agnes
=================================================
December 19, 2004
Dear John:
When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on
my front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh? These geese
are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I
can't sleep through the racket. Please stop.
Cordially,
Agnes
================================================
December 20, 2004
John:
What's with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a swimming.
What kind of damn joke is this? There's bird poop all over the house
and they never stop the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a
nervous wreck. It's not funny. So stop sending the freaking birds.
Sincerely,
Agnes
================================================
December 21, 2004
O.K. Buster:
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with 8
maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a
milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is manure all
over the lawn and I can't move in my own house. Just lay off me,
smartass.
Agnes
================================================
December 22, 2004
Hey ****head:
What are you.....some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers
playing. And Christ do they play. They've never stopped chasing those
maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are getting
upset and they're stepping all over those screeching birds. What am I
going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.
You'll get yours !
Agnes
================================================
December 23, 2004
You rotten prick:
Now there's ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts
ladies. They've been balling the pipers all night long. Now the
cows can' t sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river
of ****. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give
cause why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm calling the
police on you !
Agnes
================================================
December 24, 2004
Listen ****head:
What's with those eleven lords a leaping on those maid and ladies?
Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through
the maids and have been sodomizing the cows. All twenty-three of the birds
are dead. They were trampled to death in the orgy.
I hope you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.
You're sworn enemy,
Agnes
================================================
December 25, 2004
Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling
which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McHolstein.
The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should
come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolstein
at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to
shoot you on sight.
With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
Cordially,
Law Offices of Badger, Bender and Chole