the 48th regulator said:I am no trying to be facetious, as I post this.
Even without that caveat, I'd not have taken your post that way.
the 48th regulator said:That was a Phenomenal post, and I thank you bro.
Thank-you, and you are most welcome.
I, too, have learned much from you. I know nobody, beyond you and recceguy, who is using medical marijuana. Previously, I'd only read a few newspaper articles that lacked, of course, any real and valuable information, but felt, nonetheless, that it was a good thing if people benefitted from it as they seemed to do. I now know much more about the benefits and processes involved.
the 48th regulator said:You are convincing me, believe me, that there are specialised duties that need to have zero tolerance. I mistook You wanting that for everyone.
A mistake that would be trivial in most circumstances can often be deadly in an aircraft. I have lost good friends and colleagues to several such trivial mistakes, both their own and other people's. One such case involved the Spragg clutch in the freewheeling unit on CH136258, which was found, during the investigation into the deaths of Bob Connell and Henry Andersen one night in June 1985, to be three ten-thousandths of an inch out-of-round due to a manufacturing error. The allowable tolerance was two ten-thousandths of an inch. One ten-thousandth of an inch killed them. Had they known what was happening - and this failure had never happened before and happened in a most misleading manner - and not been at five hundred feet above hills, trees, and a lake in absolute darkness and bad weather (ie, about as much going against them as one could imagine) they might, barely, have survived, but even under ideal circumstances they had perhaps five, maybe ten, seconds to correctly diagnose a failure that took the investigators months to determine, and react perfectly.
Another Pilot and I were the last ones to fly that machine and live. The failure occurred about one half-hour of flying time after I shut down at the end of my flight.
The possibility of something similar happening is ever-constant, and one must give oneself every possible edge. Being medically fit to fly and fully alert is one such edge, and even just a slight edge can make the difference between a few extra rapid heartbeats, a wide-eyed silent "holy fuck", and a comforting beer a few hours after giving one's blood and urine samples and being the guest of honour at a funeral. I've been lucky on several occasions.
I've learned a lot of lessons from my mistakes, and shared those lessons widely as they may keep others alive, and also learned a lot from other people's tales. Some of those stories (the happier ones) were told directly, and some, the unhappy ones like Bob and Henry's, were briefed by the investigating team or read about in the investigative reports. A very, very observant Flight Engineer saved his crew, passengers, and machine a week or so ago from tragedy. I can too easily, and too vividly, picture what might have happened had he not noticed what was subtly occurring on the opposite side of his machine with seconds to spare, unbeknownst by the drivers. Life or death can be determined by less than the thickness of a human hair, a few seconds or less, glancing in just the right place or not, or Spidey-sense tingling.
There is, thus, no room available for even a hint of impairment in aviation. That has been proven to me many, many times, so it is one of the few things on which I shall never compromise.
There are always more than enough things waiting to jump out and kill one. There is no need to add to the pile.