While we're all waiting. A joke. With flying involved.

P

peterjh

Guest
A fellow just got his private pilot's licence and had the use of a small aircraft. He offered to take his pal for a spin who gladly accepted. Up they went and the new pilot, a bit of a show-off, spotted a funfair going on and flew around it. Then he eased sharply forward on the stick and put the kite into a steep dive, heading for the crowd. Then, at the last minute he pulled out and cheerfully regained height.
"I'll bet half the people down there thought we were going to have an accident!" he laughed.
His pal replied, "Half the people up here had one."
 
I know it's modern but I liked this one:

"A reader wrote us, retelling the story about the military pilot calling ATC for a priority landing because his single-engine jet fighter was running "a bit peaked." ATC told the fighter jock that he was number two behind a B-52 that had one shut down.

"Ah," the pilot remarked, "the dreaded seven-engine approach!"
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And of course this classic:

In his book, Sled Driver, SR-71 Blackbird pilot Brian Shul writes: "I'll always remember a certain radio exchange that occurred one day as Walt (my back-seater) and I were screaming across
Southern California 13 miles high. We were monitoring various radio transmissions from other aircraft as we entered Los Angeles airspace. Though they didn't really control us, they did monitor our movement across their scope.

I heard a Cessna ask for a readout of its ground speed. "90 knots" Center replied. Moments later, a Twin Beech required the same. "120 knots," Center answered. We weren't the only ones proud of our ground speed that day as almost instantly an F-18 smugly transmitted, "Ah, Center, Dusty 52 requests ground speed readout." There was a slight pause, then the response, "525 knots on the ground, Dusty." Another silent pause. As I was thinking to myself how ripe a situation this was, I heard a familiar click of a radio transmission coming from my back-seater. It was at that precise moment I realized Walt and I had become a real crew, for we were both thinking in unison. "Center, Aspen 20, you got a ground speed readout for us? "There was a longer than normal pause... "Aspen, I show 1,742 knots" (That's about 2004.658 mph who don't know) No further inquiries were heard on that frequency.
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And finally:


In another famous SR-71 story, Los Angeles Center reported receiving a request for clearance to FL 600 (60,000ft). The incredulous controller, with some disdain in his voice, asked, "How do you plan to get up to 60,000 feet? The pilot (obviously a sled driver), responded, "We don't plan to go up to it; we plan to go down to it." He was cleared.
Click to expand...


Sorry if they are a little OT but they always make me giggle.
 
ACTUAL transcript of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995. This radio conversation was released by the Chief of Naval Operations on 10-10-95.

Americans:
Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.

Canadians:
Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

Americans:
This is the captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course.

Canadians:
No, I say again, you divert YOUR course.

Americans:
THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES' ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH. THAT'S ONE-FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP.

Canadians:
This is a lighthouse. Your call.
Click to expand...

Sorry no aircraft joke but one of my favorites.
 
Good Luck Mr. Gorsky

When Apollo astronaut Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon, he not only gave his famous "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" statement but followed it by several remarks, usually com traffic between him, the other astronauts and Mission Control. Just before he re-entered the lander, however, he made the enigmatic remark: "Good luck Mr. Gorsky."
Many people at NASA thought it was a casual remark concerning some rival Soviet Cosmonaut. However, upon checking, there was no Gorsky in either the Russian or American space programs. Over the years many people questioned Armstrong as to what the "Good luck Mr. Gorsky" statement meant, but Armstrong always just smiled.
But, (on July 5, 1995 in Tampa Bay FL) while answering questions following a speech, a reporter brought up the 26 year old question to Armstrong. This time he finally responded. Mr. Gorsky had finally died and so Neil Armstrong felt he could answer the question.
When he was a kid, he was playing baseball with a friend in the backyard. His friend hit a fly ball which landed in the front of his neighbor's bedroom windows. His neighbors were Mr. & Mrs. Gorsky. As he leaned down to pick up the ball, young Armstrong heard Mrs. Gorsky shouting at Mr. Gorsky, "Oral sex! You want oral sex?! You'll get oral sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!"
Apparently a true story.
 
Sign Above the Pilots Ready Room in Kadeana Japan, at the time the SR-71 flew

You've never been Lost, till you've been Lost at Mach III

Though I travel in the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for I am at 80,000 feet and climbing
 
Speaking of Sleds, this is not a joke, but a funny anecdote.....

SR-71 Pilots

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but
we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding
our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if,
because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would
not be the first word I would use to describe flying this
plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day
in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was
pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a
moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training
sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our
training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over
Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the
turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My
gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to
feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would
soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a
great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten
months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below
us, I could already see the coast of California from the
Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months
of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back
seat. There he was, with no really good view of the
incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four
different radios. This was good practice for him for when we
began flying real missions, when a priority transmission
from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult,
too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during
my entire flying career I had controlled my own
transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in
this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on
talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however.
Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my
expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had
been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the
slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He
understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a
sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio
toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with
him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles
Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their
sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly),
we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk
to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked
Center for a readout of his ground speed.

Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at
ninety knots on the ground."

Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was
that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a
Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact
same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel
important. I referred to it as the "HoustonCenterVoice." I
have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on
this country's space program and listening to the calm and
distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all
other controllers since then wanted to sound like that...
and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what
sector of the country we would be flying in, it always
seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that
tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to
pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always
wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like
Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die
than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped
up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his
ground speed.

"Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five
knots of ground speed."

Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is
dazzling his Cessna brethren.

Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore
came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock
because he sounded very cool on the radios.

"Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check."

Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey,
Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar
cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I
got it -- ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug
smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true
speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he
just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his
new Hornet.

And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more
distinct alliteration than emotion:

"Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what?
As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had
to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios.
Still, I thought, it must be done -- in mere seconds we'll
be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That
Hornet must die, and die now.

I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it
was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump
in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that
we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13
miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his
space helmet.

Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back
seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had
become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion,
Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us
a ground speed check?"

There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an
everyday request: "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand
eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."

I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so
accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information
without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But
the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going
to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed
the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like
voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks. We're showing closer to
nineteen hundred on the money."

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little
crack in the armor of the HoustonCenterVoice, when L.A. came
back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably
more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short,
memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been
flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow
before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I
had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's
work.

We never heard another transmission on that frequency all
the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun
being the fastest guys out there.

Written by Brian Shul, from his book Sled Driver.
 
All good ones, but you're the winner, CAMEL, with Mr. Gorsky, and the SR-71 pilots :cost1:

As I can still edit this post, I'll add the SR-71 cockpit, to illustrate CAMELJOCKEY's anecdote.
 
Well, it's funny anyway. Hey! That looks almost like my Combatstick in that Sled!

CJ

PS: Did you know that the SR-71 actually leaked fuel when not flying? They would put enough fuel in it to get airborne and heated up and then fuel it in flight.
 
Allegedly the German air controllers at Frankfort Airport are renowned as a short tempered lot. They it is alleged, not only expect one to know one's gate parking location, but how to get there without any assistance from them. So it was with some amusement that we ( a Pan Am 747) listened to the following exchange between Frankfort ground control and a British Airways 747, call sign Speedbird 206

Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206 clear of active runway"

Ground "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven"

The BA 747 pulled into the main taxiway, and slowed to a stop.

Ground "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"

Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now."

Ground ( with quite arrogant impatience ): "Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"

Speedbird 206 ( coolly ): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark,..and I didn't land."
 
"TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees"

"Center, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?"

"Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

..............................................................................................

Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles"

Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital watches"
.........................................................................................

From an unknown aircraft waiting in a very long take-off queue: "I'm bored!"

Ground Traffic Control: "Last aircraft transmitting, identify yourself immediately"

Unknown Aircraft: "I said I was bored, not stupid"
.....................................................................................

Control tower to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a Fokker, one o'clock, three miles, Eastbound."

United 329: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this ...I've got the little Fokker in sight."
 
One day, the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of the runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee.
Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said: "What a cute little plane. Did you make it yourself?"
Our hero the Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a real zinger: "I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like that and I'll have enough parts for another one."
 
Allegedly, a Pan Am 727 flight waiting for start clearance in Munich overheard the following:

Lufthansa (in German ): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"

Ground (in English ): "If you want an answer, you must speak in English."

Lufthansa ( in English ): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in Germany. Why must I speak English?"

Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful cockney accent): "Because you lost the bloody war, mate."
 
There was a British Airways pilot called on the radio after departing from Gatwick Airport that he was 'noise abating' ( a procedure for reducing noise close to an airport) Another pilot called on radio ' You can go blind doing that mate'
 
Here you go Olham, Catfish

[FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]German Aviation Terms[/FONT]​
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]AIRCRAFT---Der Fliegenwagen[/SIZE][/FONT]​
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]JET TRANSPORT---Der Muchen Overgrossen Biggenmother Das Ist Fliegen
Highenfaster Mit All Der Mach Und Flightenlevels. (Built by Boeing)[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]PROPELLER---Der Airfloggen Pushenthruster[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]ENGINE---Der Noisenmaken Pistonpusher Das Turnens Der Airfloggenfan
Pushenthruster[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]JET ENGINE---Der Schreemen Skullschplitten Firespitten Smokenmaken
Airpushenbacken Thrustermaker Mit Compressorsqueezen Und Turbinespinnen
Bladenrotors. (Made by Pratt & Whitney)[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]CONTROL COLUMN---Der Pushenpullen Bankenyanken Schtick[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]RUDDER PEDALS---Der Tailschwingen Yawmaken Werks[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]PILOT---Der Pushenpullen Bankenyanken Tailschwingen Werker[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]PASSENGER---Der Dumbkopf Das Est Strappened En Der Baacken Mit Der Other
Dumbkopfs Das Est Expecten To Leave Undgo On Scheduledtimen Und Arriven mit
Der Luggagebags Somplaceneisen[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]STUDENT PILOT---Der Dumbkopf Das Learnen Fliegen Un Hopen To Jobenfinden Mit
Der Airlinens[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]FLIGHT INSTRUCTOR---Der Timenbuilder Mit Less Den 1000 Hrs
Multienginefliegen. Teachen Dumbkopfs To Fliegen Vile Waitenwatchen Fer Der
Letter Mit Der Joboffering Frum United[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]AIRLINE TRANSPORT PILOT---Das Grosse Overpaiden Und Under Werken
Whinencomplainer Biggen Schmuck Dat Fliegen Mit Das Big Airlinen[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]PARACHUTE---Der Stringencotten Das Est Usen To Floaten Der Tailschwingen
Pushenpullen Bankenyanken Werker Down To Earthen Ven Der Fliegenwagen Est
Kaputen[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]FAA---Der Friggenfliegen Dumbkopf Schmucks Das Maken Alder Rulens Und
Regulations[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][SIZE=-1]Helicopter --- Der Flingen Wingen Maschinen mit der Floppen Bladens dot ist
Fliegen by der Dumbkopfs vas iss too Stupiden for Knowen dees Maschinens ees
not Safen ver Fliegen.:d[/SIZE][/FONT]
 
Hi Cameljock..... Not forgetting of course the aircraft brakes....
Derpullerupmittyresqealenuntrubberschteenken.
 
A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out after touching down.

San Jose Tower noted:"American 751, make a hard right turn end of the runway, if you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadalupe exit off Highway 101, make a right at the light and return to the airport."
..............................................................................

Rookie Air Controller (dripping with sarcasm) "Okay, hotshot - - if you think you can take her that high, GO FOR IT!!"

Pilot of SR-71 on the other end of the radio: "Roger Control; now DESCENDING from 100,000 feet to FL 800..."
 
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