Yet another blue sky day at Parafield, I went to grab the aircraft for the lesson while my instructor nipped to the mess for a bite.
All I had to do was text my instructor where the plane was parked: edge of the FTA apron, UniSA side. Easy peasy. Except I sent, “All the way to the west.” She texted back, “Western apron?” and I froze. Wait, what? Isn’t this just the FTA apron? Panic set in.I fired off a quick correction.
My classmate and I were sitting in the cockpit when we spotted her emerging from the edge of hangar 30. My heart sank “Oh faaaaark, she’s coming from the western apron” We watched her stroll across the tarmac as I braced for a grumpy instructor and a rough lesson.
But then, as she got closer, we saw it, the biggest, most genuinely amused grin plastered across her face. It was the kind of smile that said, “How do you even mess this up, kid?” No anger at all, just pure amusement.
She dropped her flight bag in the cockpit, and hit me with the line of the day “Where is west?!” Her tone was playful, teasing, almost in awe of my epic directional fail. It was the lighthearted, teasing vibe that made the moment even funnier.
I was so embarrassed and apologised profusely. “I am soooo sorry about it” I said.
Then she pointed across the apron with mock seriousness. “This is south! And this is west! And that’s why we call it the western training area.” I was dying, trying not to lose it as she schoolled me.
This hilarious screw-up is one for the ages. Years from now, I’ll be that pilot at some dusty outback strip, laughing about the day I sent my instructor on a 500 metre tarmac trek because i couldn’t tell west from south.
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