A colleague of mine was dealing with a particularly difficult private pilot. The pilot had been having a hard time following instructions and I could tell he was nervous and flustered. While flying on a northwesterly heading of 310, the controller told him to turn right heading 360. The pilot asked, “Are you sure you want me to turn RIGHT heading three-six-zero?” The controller didn’t miss a beat and replied, “Well, sir, I assumed you were facing forward in the cockpit.”

— Gary Ryle: Orlando International Airport

Orlando, Florida

One evening I was working Local 1 with a Boeing 727 landing on 36 Left and a DC-8 trailing by four miles. Southwest Airlines flight 723 was waiting for departure on 36 Left. The gap between arrivals was snug, but I knew I could get SWA out if everyone was ready to play and not waste any time.

When the 727 crossed the threshold, I told SWA 723: “Runway 36 Left, taxi into position and hold. Be ready to go, traffic on four-mile final, heavy DC-8.” The SWA driver replied: “Position and hold on 36 Left. It was on the job application—we’re always ready to go!”

As soon as the 727 turned onto the taxiway, I cleared SWA 723 for takeoff. We had 1½ miles to spare before the -8 touched down.

— Gary Ryle: Orlando International Airport

Orlando, Florida

Another time when I was working Local 1, arrivals were landing on 36 Right and departures were crossing that runway to take off on 36 Left. I told the next aircraft in line to “cross runway 36 Right, runway 36 Left taxi into position and hold.” The pilot radioed, “Ah, we’ve got a passenger who got up and we need to hold here for a minute.” Seconds later, an older voice piped in and said: “Well, it’s a lady who went into the head so I guess she’s sitting. We’ll cross 36 Right, position and hold on 36 Left.”

— Gary Ryle: Orlando International Airport

Portland, Oregon

During the 1960s, we used surveillance radar approaches for some runways as well as for backup in case the navaid equipment at the airport or onboard aircraft was out of service. Of course, if radio communications were lost between aircraft and the TRACON, the pilot needed an alternate procedure to find the ground—if possible.

One day, an F-102 with faulty navigational equipment requested a surveillance approach. The usual “in the event of lost communications make an ILS approach” brought the reply, “ILS inoperative.” The controller then offered a TACAN approach, to which the pilot responded, “TACAN doesn’t work, either.” After offering a couple of other alternatives, each resulting in “unable, it’s broke,” or words to that effect, the exasperated controller asked, “You got a parachute?”

“Affirmative,” the pilot responded. “OK,” said the controller. “Turn left heading zero-three-zero. This will be a vector for a surveillance approach.”

— Bill Owen (retired): Portland International Airport

Portland, Oregon

The same controller (as above), working departure radar one night, issued a warning to a Braniff Boeing 720 that had just taken off. “Traffic twelve o’clock, three miles, several targets, possibly a flight of ducks.” The pilot responded by asking, “Do those ducks paint (appear on your radarscope) better if they’re banded?” To which the controller responded, “No, but it’d sure help if they had a transponder.” The Braniff pilot then quipped, “Well, they squawk, don’t they?”

— Bill Owen (retired): Portland International Airport

Springfield, Illinois

A female controller was training on local when an inbound pilot asked her to “kill the rabbit.” Noticing her confusion, the instructor explained that she should turn off the white approach lights that flash in sequence, much like a hare scampering toward the runway. Later in her training, the controller was working local again and decided to try and impress her peers. Confidently keying the mike, she asked another inbound pilot, “Would you like me to choke the chicken?” The pilots, no doubt in hysterics, were unable to reply.

— Mark Nighswonger: Springfield Tower

Springfield, Illinois

I’m one of the few controllers—still employed—who has worked a midair. While on a radar position, I received a mayday call from an F-16 flying in the Howard Military Operations Area in central Illinois and extending west into Kansas City Center’s airspace. The pilot said he’d collided with his wingman while practicing night intercepts (a procedure in which pilots track other planes by radar and then try to find them visually). The other plane was destroyed and that pilot had ejected. The mayday aircraft, which was missing four feet from his right wing, was 25 miles from Springfield airport. The pilot requested a straight-in approach and we quickly cleared other traffic out of his way.

Meanwhile, the senior pilot in a nearby four-ship (four planes flying in formation) made the decision to inspect the damaged aircraft before it landed. Visibility conditions were IFR, so I had to separately vector the remaining three aircraft through the clouds back to the airport and the senior pilot to intercept the F-16 in distress. They flew around for a while, checking flight controls and burning off fuel. After a time, the senior pilot had to land, and I vectored him for an approach.

Then another four-ship happened on the scene and we went through the same routine again, breaking off three of the planes for an approach to the airport while the fourth flew with the F-16. Finally, the two remaining aircraft were ready to land. While I was vectoring them for the approach, Kansas City Center called to inform us that the pilot who ejected had parachuted to safety at a farmhouse and was uninjured. Happily, I passed this information along to the F16 pilot just before handing him off to the control tower. Moments later, he landed without incident.

The best part about all this was that someone relieved me with five minutes left on my shift and I was able to go home and drink a few, much needed, cold ones.

— Mark Nighswonger: Springfield Tower

El Paso, Texas

Several of us “old hands” were sitting in the tower on a relatively slow afternoon with a trainee working ground control. Out on the ramp, an old Convair 440 turboprop began running up its engines for a maintenance check. Suddenly, the trainee jumped up and excitedly pointed to the clouds of blue smoke mushrooming from the No. 1 engine. We looked over, chuckling, and explained to our charge that all Convairs and other old radial engine planes emit smoke when they start up or the engines flood. We just about had the newbie calmed down and back in his seat when, of course, the Convair pilot hollered on the radio that he was on fire! Thankfully, the fire trucks were close.

— Don Tedrow: Austin, Texas, Tower

Wichita, Kansas

Here’s one of those mangled transmissions controllers like to forget about: “Jest 12, cleared to Fort Smith as filed. Expect flight level three-eight-five-point-five-five ten minutes after departure. Departure frequency will be . . . (mike still keyed) aw shit, I messed it up again.”

— JR

Wichita, Kansas

Our east runway was closed, as announced in a Notice to Airmen, because service vehicles and crews were fixing some potholes. My trainer was working local control in Visual Flight Rules conditions when a couple of BE-40s joined the arrival pattern. One of the pilots called, asking why Runway 1 Right was unavailable. “Vandy 45, it is NOTAM closed. There’s been vehicles out there all day,” my trainer responded. “We see no vehicles on the runway,” the pilot persisted. Whereupon my trainer allowed, “Vandy 45, I know. We’re crying about it up here, too.”

— JR