“You are not in America…yet.”
I am now a supervisor with BAC 1 -11 Approval. I got sent on a B707 course in preparation for company approval. I completed the course and got the authorisation to work on both aircraft types, the Boeing 707 and the BAC1-11. And did so for the next two years. The company then bought the DC-10 which is an aircraft made in America. So BCAL sent me on a course to Long Beach California so I could get approval to work on DC-10’s. This was in 1979.
My travel companion was Ron Francis, a gentleman twice my age and double that in experience. Our trip started at Gatwick Airport, and we flew to America via Houston Texas, on a B-Cal flight, which meant it was free! The flight was slightly delayed, which knocked on our connecting flight to California. As soon as we arrived in America, Ron and I rushed towards the mighty force that is US IMMIGRATION. Words that send shudders down many traveller’s spine. I am first on the line, that big, yellow line. I put my passport down and Ron came with me and tried to put his down as well. Our first mistake. The gentleman behind the bulletproof glass looked at us with horrified disgust. How dare passengers attempt to speed up this process. The audacity. He proceeds to tell Ron to get behind the yellow line and then fixing him with his best Clint Eastwood stare, sternly informs him “You are not in America…yet.”
And until Ron got behind said yellow line, he wouldn’t even look at my passport. Everything rested on Ron’s compliance. This immigration officer took his job VERY seriously and was fully prepared to bring the entire airport to a grinding standstill if Ron did not get behind that line. Fortunately for everyone, he did.
As soon as Ron’s feet were on the other side of the line, he picked up my passport and began scrutinising it as if he were a diamond salesman. He then asked me why I had dared venture to America. I politely informed him I was here to attend a course at McDonald Douglas, an aviation company based in Long Beach, California. I received a grunt which I took to mean my answers were acceptable and then he proceeded to ask me further questions.
‘How long do you intend to stay here in America?’
I answered this, and the rest as best I could and I was eventually rewarded with the loud STAMP of approval. I then proceeded through, my feet blessed with touching the soil of the United States of America or in this case, the scuffed, tiled floor. I looked back at my companion who was now permitted to cross the line. He was asked the same questions with the same suspicion. This whole process took twenty minutes, so we then had to run through Houston airport to get our connecting flight, which we missed.
So, we were put on another flight which stopped at Phoenix Arizona before finally arriving in Los Angeles. We get on our Continental Airways plane and we take our seats ready for take-off. The cabin crew marched down the aisle and took their positions to do the safety briefing. Now anyone who has been on a plane knows that not everyone pays attention to this bit, but it’s good form and manners to at least be quiet while they do it.
A couple of guys, several rows in front did not get this memo and were discussing the football very enthusiastically. Lots of volume, lots of hand movements. Unfortunately for them, the flight attendant was standing right next to them and was visibly struggling to concentrate and do her job with the noise and added movements from the guys next to her. So, she suddenly turns to them, mid briefing, taps the nearest on the shoulder and nice and loudly asks them, “You guys know all this shit then?!” They didn’t and sat bolt upright, listening to the rest of the briefing intently in total silence.
With this over we finally leave Houston and fly up into US Airspace on our way to Phoenix. After we level out the cabin crew starts moving about the cabin with their trolleys, serving drinks and snacks (back in the golden era when it was free.) The same female attendant approaches me and Ron with her trolley. She asks if we want a drink and I say I would like a beer, to which she replies ‘Coors or Light?’ I ask what the difference is and her response is ‘Shit, I don’t know!’ This was not whispered. So I just let her pick and she handed me a Coors. This was my first time in America and so far I had concluded that the saying ‘Don’t Mess With Texas’ holds and should only be tested by the foolish or the bold!
We eventually get to LA and we are met by the Long Beach B-Cal rep. He picks us up from the airport and takes us to the Clouds Motel in Lakewood. The drive from LA to Lakewood is on a ten-lane San Diego freeway. I have never seen so many cars in one place in my life, it was staggering! But what I did like was the diamond lane. The diamond lane is a magical road where if you are travelling with 2 people or more in your automobile then you may use this free-flowing lane and avoid the enormous, stifling congestion of the other 9 lanes.
The fine for using the diamond lane illegally was $271.
We checked into the Clouds Motel and were told that Douglas Transport would pick us up the following morning at 8 am and take us to the training centre. The training centre was my first experience of working in a fully air-conditioned building. It was refreshing.
Ron and I got stuck into the course which was aided by a plentiful supply of free hot coffee and for lunch a chuck wagon would roll up outside the training facility and we would go and check it out. The number 1 bestseller on the Chuck Wagon menu was a steak and egg sandwich. It was outstanding, bordering on orgasmic.
The course started at 9 am and ran through till 4 pm and then we would get taken back to the motel. That night in my hotel I made the astounding discovery that hotel rooms in America are also fitted with AC. I turned it up full for a moment and enjoyed the refreshing coolness until the noise of the machine became a little too much!
That night me and Ron go out for some dinner. The nearest restaurants are only across the road, but that road is enormous and 6 lanes deep and the traffic is very, very fast. All the restaurants in this area were alcohol-free, so the only drinks you get with your meal were iced tea, coffee, or water. All of which came with an endless supply of refills. You cannot walk into these restaurants, nor can you book a table. What you had to do was come in, state your name and the amount of people in your party and wait to be called when your table is ready. We never used our actual name, we liked to bring a small bit of enjoyment to this bizarre seating negotiation. So, we would use names like ‘Churchill’ or ‘Windsor’ or other extremely British names. The trick that we played on each other though was that we wouldn’t tell the other one what name we used. So that when we were called it was down to whoever gave the name to ensure we got our table.
Once called we reached our table and began an enforced game of ’20 Questions’ none of which we had the answers to. Things such as ‘Supersalad?’ Ron and I looked at each other for help and had to ask some questions of our own to decipher her cryptic questioning. It turns out the lady was asking us if we wanted ‘Soup or salad?’ with our meal. One down. Foolishly, we both chose salad, which prompted question 2 ‘What dressing?’ we asked what the choices were. There were 10! ‘Thousand Island, Blue Cheese, Ranch, Italian, French, on and on it goes. We both chose one we had never tried before, I went with Thousand Island, him blue cheese so we could see which one we liked.
Next, we get to what is written on the menu and we state our choices. This led to yet more questions, and then we finally reached the beverage section of the interrogation of which there was a significant number of choices. I went with coffee as I was so exhausted from this ordeal! The meal, including the salad and dressing, was pretty good but I think we would have had a quicker and more relaxing experience in McDonald’s! This was day 1 of 30! We swiftly decided that we would need to find a place that served alcohol whilst we were there. It took us 2 weeks to find this sacred, elusive watering hole in the form of a sports bar. That first beer there barely touched the sides, the second I still remember fondly to this day.
This was my first trip to America, I was a daisy-fresh tourist and as you can tell I was extremely blindsided by how everything worked! Since then I have visited the States more times than I can count, both for business and with my family, and have made many life-long friends. Despite all the quirks and differences, I had a wonderful first trip to America and it was made all the more entertaining by my incredible travelling companion, Mr Ron Francis.
Sadly, Ron is no longer with us and I’d like to dedicate this story to him as a small gesture of appreciation to a great man, an incredible engineer and a wonderful human being. If you would like to know more, please get in touch via our contact page.
