While I’m told St. John’s is a beautiful place when the weather is nice, rain and snow hold the majority of the climate. I’m also told on a summer weekend night the party street is out of control, but on a nasty late fall Monday night that’s not the case. And thus was our 16 hours on the ground in Newfoundland, cold and wet, not a sole to be seen on the streets except sailors who looked they were fresh off the filming of deadliest catch. I did however have another spacious room to myself with a nice view of the harbor, (which was pretty cool) but it was dark the whole time so I didn’t really see anything of interest. Apparently every non-mid-air-refuelable prop plane has to use St. John’s as a launching point across the Atlantic, so there were several interesting planes there.

I got to fly the Atlantic leg, well I got to sit in the seat, my duties included but were not limited to: making position reports every 5 degrees of longitude (since there is no radar control over the ocean) backing up our flight plans coordinates, informing the engineer if the right wing was icing up, monitoring the radios, and continually getting quizzed by more experienced crew members, exciting right (thumbs down). It was really cool though, definitely the longest single flight I’ve ever flown, but we still whipped Columbus’ time record. They had sub sandwiches for us before we left so we used the oven to toast them and heat up our cookies, we plugged the ipod into one of the extra headphone jacks so we had tunes playing in the background, I got to get up to stretch or use the little boys room at will, so it was better than riding in the back with the pax (passengers) and cargo, which really isn’t too bad, we have some litters up (usually for medical pax) but utilized for naps, and as always the ocean and clouds were amazing.

Prestwick Scotland was our next stop; once again dark almost our entire stay, but the smell of money (or cow manure) filled the air on my first steps across the Atlantic. The weather was nice so we found time to wander around Ayr, taking in the old buildings and flirting with the only girl at the only open bar converted from an old church, which held 9 other patrons all males in their mid 60s. We almost talked her in to giving us a ride to Edinbrough or Glasgow… I love the accents. The sunrise revealed we were only three blocks from the coast with a striking bluff just down the way, and the ride back to the airport provided a little sight seeing, all of the city, which was really interesting. Hopefully I’ll get some more time to hang out here in the future, I think with any more time we could’ve gotten that ride.